She’s wearing jeans that cut off at the ankles, a worn-in pair of Converse sneakers, and a soft, cotton t-shirt with a deep v-neck that reveals a satisfying amount of cleavage. She doesn’t look like hell. She looks like the devil transformed into a woman come to tempt me.
“You look perfect.” I mean it. “It’s a surprise, remember? We’ll have to run by my place for me to change though.”
“You should’ve done that instead of wasting your time coming all the way over here to see me,” she says, her words as sweet as arsenic-laced sugar.
“You aren’t happy to see me?”
I don’t miss the slide of her throat as she swallows back whatever biting remark she wants to make. She pops onto her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. Unlike our earlier kiss, this one is so full of venom, I swear it stings.
“I have to talk to my brother,” she says to me. “Let’s meet up later.”
“I’m sure it can wait.” I wrap my hands around hers and look to Malcolm.
“There’s no rush.” He’s lapping this up. I could get him to agree to almost anything right now. Sealing a union between my company and his, by way of marriage, not only keeps the family business in the family, it also costs nothing more than selling his sister’s soul. Something he values a lot less than his bank account.
“Are you sure?” Adair asks, clearly looking for an out.
“I should head home early. Surprise Ginny,” he suggests.
“Good idea. You have to keep the romance alive,” I advise him. There’s no way Malcolm is going home to his wife. Not at 4 o’clock on a Tuesday. Not when his regular room is waiting at the Eaton—a little tidbit Luca discovered when digging into the affairs of Mr. Randolph, the hotel manager.
“I was supposed to help her with Ellie, but I’m sure she’ll understand. I’ll text her and let her know you’re coming home.” Adair whips out her phone before he can stop her. Apparently, I’m not the only one who knows about his Tuesday night extracurriculars. I might loathe her, but I do admire her. She’s backed him into the corner in five seconds flat, punishing him in a way that’s almost Shakespearean. “There. Now she knows you’re leaving the office early! She’s going to be so excited.”
“Thank you,” Malcolm says in a strained voice.
“No problem.” She hooks an arm through mine. “We should be going.”
“We’ll discuss this further another time,” I say to him.
“Yes, we have a lot to talk about.” He moves around the desk and shakes my hand, his fingers closing over it tightly and holding it in place. “Take care of my sister.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her.” That’s a promise I’ll make good on. If her stunt with her brother proves anything, it’s that she’s too slippery to let out of my sight.
“Let’s go.” She tugs me toward the door. As soon as it closes behind us, she starts to pull away but my grip on her hand tightens.
“We’re not done selling this,” I whisper, tilting my head toward his secretary, who’s watching us with eagle eyes.
“Have a nice night, Barb,” Adair says, snuggling against me.
Our act is starting to wear me down. Pressed this closely to my body, I smell her perfume—tart and sweet just like her. I have to resist the urge to lift her into my arms and carry her to the nearest empty office. I want her splayed across a conference table, thighs around my neck, screaming my name. I want her to know exactly what she’s been missing. I want it to be even harder when she loses me this time.
Instead, we continue to the elevator and as soon as we’re safely inside, she yanks her hand away.
“What was that about?” she demands.
“We need to sell this. It has to look real. I thought you wanted your brother to believe that we’re in a relationship.”
“I did,” she says, quickly adding, “I mean, I do. You just could’ve warned me that you would be here.”
“This was more natural.” I lean closer. “A romantic gesture.”
She stares up at me, her lips waiting to be kissed. Then she blinks and moves quickly to the other side of the compartment. “You’re lucky I didn’t slap you.”
“Now why would you do that?” I ask.
“Because you kissed me,” she reminds me.
“I knew you wouldn’t slap me for that.”
“I have no idea why you seem to be so sure of that,” she says.
“You know why,” I say, advancing on her until she’s pressed against the elevator’s steel paneling. Her hands grip the bronze safety railing. “You’ve wanted me to kiss you since you saw me at the funeral.”
“You think I wanted you to kiss me?” she scoffs in a breathy voice. I’m close enough to feel the betrayal of her rapidly beating heart.
“Yes, you did want to kiss me. Just like you want to kiss me now. Just like you wanted to kiss me every day for the last five years.” I angle my head until my lips are hovering a breath away from her earlobe. “Isn’t that true?”
“I don’t want to kiss you,” she whispers. “Not then. Not now. Not ever.”
“Do you know how to tell when someone’s lying?” I murmur in her ear. “Their pupils dilate, they breathe faster, but most importantly, their heart speeds up.”
“Maybe I’m just scared of you,” she says, even as she moves almost instinctively closer.
“You should be,” I agree, “but you still want to kiss me.” My mouth moves across her jaw gliding toward her lips. As it reaches them, the elevator dings, jolting us apart when it comes to a stop. Adair turns her head, saved by the interruption, and darts out of the doors as they open.
I’m right behind her, catching her hand before she reaches the building’s entrance.
“What are you doing?” she hisses.
“We have a date,” I remind her.
“No one’s around. We don’t need to pretend,” she
