I settled on donating for a very nice set of ruby earrings. I didn’t see how much Taylor put down, but I had a feeling it was plenty enough to win them.
We started to head back to our table, but Taylor stopped in front of the circle where people were dancing, somewhat drunkenly, to whatever song was playing. I always thought rich parties like this had people professional ballroom dancing, but this seemed like the kind you’d find at any wedding or even club in some cases.
“We should dance,” Taylor said without looking at me.
“Do you want to?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“I think your grandfather is convinced.” I tried to gather up courage. “I don’t think he cares as long as you have children.”
I looked up to see his face. His mouth was set in a slight frown, his gaze far away. He nodded. “I know.”
“We don’t have to dance if you don’t want to. I don’t think we need to act anymore.”
“If I wanted to dance, would you like to?” He asked, tapping my wrist.
“Yes.” I said, a small smile spreading across my face. Taking my hand, he guided me into a proper position. He had his hands on my waist and I had one on his arm and one around his back. We didn’t really do any moves. We just swayed to the song.
I picked out his grandfather from his seat, still sipping on the wine. I knew he could see us. I wanted him to realize someone could love his son for more than just his money. Taylor was caring under the walls he’d built for some reason I might never know. Someone could easily fall for the man he could be once he let down those walls.
I looked up at Taylor. I tapped his wrist twice. He looked surprised but leaned down. I tilted my head up. Then we kissed in the middle of the dance floor, in full view of everyone. It was different than all the other times we kissed. I fell deeper into him. His lips felt hungry, they nipped at mine as we went even deeper. I could feel the energy of it flow through me to my toes, they wanted to push me even closer. I could tell he wanted this. I realized I wanted this too. He teased his tongue out and I let it inside. It was so much more intense that when we finally broke apart, I was dazed.
“Lydia.” He said, sounding almost breathless. I thought I saw stars burst in his eyes.
Someone could easily fall in love with him.
Chapter 9: Lydia
Things were different between Taylor and I since the gala. It was still hard to see him very often since we both worked so much, but I found myself seeking him out in the house. When he went down to the gym, I would sit near him as he lifted weights and chatted about my day. He still wasn’t very talkative, that just wasn’t like him. But he always listened and asked me questions. He seemed to actually want to know about my work. I spent a lot of evenings relaxing in the entertainment room, with a screen that big how could I not? But sometimes, as I was setting up a movie, Taylor would enter, almost soundlessly, and sit on the other end of the couch. We were having weekly movie nights without either of us mentioning it outside of those special moments. Things were changing slowly. I wasn’t sure I knew where it was leading us.
The biggest change happened about four weeks after the gala. I had been in the room I’d turned into an office for myself. I was getting everything ready for photoshoots happening later that month when I heard Taylor’s voice echo around the house. “Lydia?” The way he said it meant he had a question for me. I got to a stopping point and followed where I thought I heard movement. I found him in the kitchen, grocery bags piled up on the counter.
He’d asked me if I had wanted anything from the store earlier, but I couldn’t think of anything. “Yeah?”
“I don’t have a chef or anything who works here.” That was true. I thought it was odd for someone so wealthy, but I guessed he probably liked cooking. “I know what’s in my fridge. I was wondering if you have eaten today?”
I thought back on my day so far. By thinking about it my stomach finally made its aching aware to me. “Oh. No.”
“It’s almost six P.M.”
“It’s a bad habit of mine,” I confessed. “When I’m working, I get so focused I kind of lose awareness of stuff like that. When I lived with Michael, he used to make sure to remind me to eat. I thought I got into the habit, but I must be slipping again.”
“You need to eat.”
“I’ll make some eggs, don’t worry about it.” I waved my hand.
He frowned slightly. “I’m making some shrimp scampi. It’ll be enough for two.”
He was going to make me dinner. The only times we had eaten together were in public or that chicken noodle soup I made for him. “You don’t have to.”
“What if I said I would like to?” He asked. It reminded me of the way he had asked me to dance. He didn’t often talk about what he liked. I wondered why.
“Then, I would love some shrimp scampi, it sounds great.” It really did.
Intrigued, I watched him cook instead of going back to my office. Michael and I were passable cooks, but we ordered out plenty, and were often so tired we didn’t make anything more complicated than spaghetti and meatballs. Taylor seemed to know the kinds of techniques I’d seen on cooking shows. He wielded the knife and finely diced some shallots quickly and carefully like a pro.
“Where did you learn to cook? You didn’t go to cooking school, did you?”
He shook
