I stare across the table at Carson, completely dumbfounded. Did he really just admit his deepest, darkest secret to me?
There’s not a single redeeming quality to this man, yet I find myself insanely attracted to him.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t totally captivated by him. He’s hot…maybe the hottest guy I’ve ever sat across the dinner table from.
William is handsome, definitely. He has a nice body from spending time on the treadmill as he reads through legal briefs.
But a little part of my brain has to admit that Carson’s hot on a completely different level. He’s every woman’s dream with his lush, dark hair and eyes framed by long lashes, but it’s not just his looks. He’s an asshole, but he’s got this way about him that draws me in anyway. The way he holds himself with all that arrogant cockiness tells me he’s clearly a womanizer. Men don’t walk around with all that swagger if they aren’t actually getting it anywhere, any time they want.
And he’s directing that attention at me tonight. It’s clear he wants to sleep with me, but I can’t tell if half of what he says is truth or just a ploy to get me into bed. He’s impossible to read.
Unfortunately for him, I’m a faithful girlfriend. I love William, and I’m not about to ruin what I have with him because some asshole in a different zip code across the country finds me to be an enticing challenge.
Despite all that, though, I find myself enraptured by Carson. Maybe it’s the wine—it’s probably the wine. I honestly didn’t even realize I was drinking it until I started to feel the haze wine always gives me. As a general rule, I don’t drink at business dinners. It’s not professional. I read my clients, and if they’re having a drink, I order one and nurse it through the night to make them feel more at ease. Tonight, I’ve had more than one. In fact, I’ve lost count. The guy keeps filling my glass and I keep emptying it. Besides, nothing about my meeting with Carson has been professional, and when I absentmindedly picked up my glass at the start of the meal, I found it hard to put it down. I find myself becoming more accepting of Carson as a person as I take in more wine, and his last confession has me speechless.
And his words…I feel like I’m taking something from you, so I wanted to give you something to take from me.
How do I respond? And why is he trusting me, of all people, with this information? Why is he giving me a piece of himself to take?
It makes no sense. I could easily use it to try to block what he’s doing to my own family’s company, but I’m not convinced it would matter.
Surely I can find a way to use it against him—to ruin him the way he’s ruining me—but I’m not sure I want to. I’ve never been into petty revenge. I’m not just rolling over and taking it; I’m acting like an adult. Someone has to.
Maybe Carson can learn from a good example.
“Oh,” I finally say. I have no idea how to respond. I know something about Carson King that no one else in the world knows, and that knowledge is power, but I want to keep it a secret—I want to protect it and hold it.
And I don’t know why. It’s both terrifying and confusing that I want to protect him.
When our meal is over, I find myself disappointed. I want to keep talking to him. I want more insight into this person I know nothing and everything about.
He takes care of the check, and my disappointment deepens. I didn’t accomplish the goal I set when I decided to fly across the country to New York, and on top of that, I’m in this weird place where I feel like I’m sort of on a date with another man.
It feels wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this—or, even if it’s okay since William knows, I most certainly shouldn’t be enjoying it.
William is so even-tempered. He knows where my buttons are, and he knows not to push them.
Part of me likes the odd dynamic of Carson pushing my buttons.
William keeps things on the straight and narrow. We never argue because we agree on just about everything—odd since he’s a lawyer, I know. He’s my other half, or so I’ve always thought.
Or maybe all this time I’ve been the one backing down to allow him to be right. I don’t know.
I never thought about it until tonight.
I feel like I’ve argued my way through this entire evening, and it’s somehow refreshing.
I hate this Carson person. He’s tearing apart my family business without a damn care in the world. He’ll move on to the next company after he hurricanes his way through mine. He’ll leave destruction in his wake, and he’ll just keep padding his bank account with more money while putting people I love and care about out of their jobs.
Yet I’m so damn attracted to him that it’s starting to physically hurt.
I set my wineglass down. “So now what?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You’ve still got some wine left in your glass, so we can stay if you’d like to finish.”
“That’s probably not a good idea.”
He nods once. He seems a little different since his big confession that he doesn’t want to run the multibillion-dollar King Communications—a little less arrogant, maybe, like he’s giving me a glimpse of the person under the façade, like he’s opening up to me—and I’m getting the feeling it’s rare for him to show this side of himself.
He pushes back from the table to stand, and I’m racking my brain for any reason to keep him in his chair. I come up empty, though, so I stand, too.
“I’ll walk you back to your hotel,” he says, and then he starts for the door as I trail behind him.
With each step I take, it’s like someone adds to the weight I’m carrying on each foot. I don’t want to go, and I don’t really understand why. I’m supposed to hate Carson for what he’s doing, and my feelings are so mixed. Is it okay to hate someone but also kind of like them? Is it okay to be intrigued by someone who has plans to destroy the things I hold dear? Is it okay to be attracted to someone even if they’re ugly on the inside?
I let that last thought marinate in my mind. Is he ugly on the inside? Or is he just a vulnerable boy who’s doing what his dad told him to do? The honesty in his voice when he told me he doesn’t want to run King was a little heart-wrenching. Part of me wanted to ask him what he does want to do. Part of me wanted to get to know him better.
But, as I had to remind myself throughout the night, this is a business meeting, merely an avenue for me to talk to the man who has promised to pull my father’s company right out from under him.
I didn’t accomplish what I set out to do, and instead I spent the night dodging flirtations from a man who isn’t my boyfriend.
This trip was a complete bust.
I follow a few paces behind Carson the entire walk back to my hotel. We don’t talk; instead, he walks quickly, as if he’s in a rush to get somewhere. Come to think of it, he probably is. He’s a busy man with a demanding job, and he made time for a dinner with me on short notice.
He made it clear through all his sexual innuendos how he wants this night to end, but my body just isn’t something that’s available to him. It belongs to William, the man I love, and I did my best to make that clear to him, too. I’m sure he’s rushing me back to my hotel to get rid of me.
When the doors to the Hyatt are suddenly in front of me, a stab of regret pierces my gut. I have the urge to lean in for a hug, but I push it as far as I can to the deepest recesses of my mind. I stick out my hand to shake his.
“Thanks for meeting with me,” I say.
He places his hand in mine, his grip firm and sure. “It was my pleasure.” His eyes linger on mine, and a thrill surges through my chest as a throb starts to ache between my legs.
I’m looking for an appropriate reason to invite him up, but I come up short.
No. No, no, no. This is all wrong.
His hand still clutches mine, and to a passerby, it would look like a simple business handshake, but it feels like more, and that’s what’s wrong.
“Thanks for dinner.” I feel like this is where etiquette should make me say how it was nice to meet him, but it wasn’t. I didn’t come here for friendship.
But, on the other hand, no matter what I want and no matter how I look at it, eventually this man will be my boss. This isn’t the last time I’ll see him, and that thought gives me a bigger sense of…relief? Excitement? Anxiety? I’m not sure, but it gives me a bigger sense of emotion than it should.
“Again, my pleasure.” He clears his throat and finally drops his hand.
“Okay then. Good night.”
He nods once. “Night.”
I turn to walk through the doors and into my hotel, and I hate the sadness I feel. This is ridiculous. I don’t even know this man, and I shouldn’t feel anything for him but irritation, anger, and loathing.
But I don’t. I push away the sadness. I’ll call William as soon as I get up to my room and fill him in on the night. I’ll feel better after I hear his voice. I’m steps away from pressing the elevator call button to go up to my room when I hear my name.
“Sylvie!” I spin around, and Carson’s striding toward me, confidence oozing out of him once more. “Wait up.”
My eyebrows draw in. “Did I forget something? Do I owe you for my half?”
He chuckles. “No.” He shakes his head. “You up for one more drink?”
“Oh, I…I don’t think so. That’s not a good idea.”
“Let me take you to dinner tomorrow, then. Like I said earlier, I’ll even pay.”
I can’t help my laugh. “That’s a really nice offer, but I’m flying home tomorrow.”
“How about a tour of the King building before you go?”
I shake my head. “My flight is in the morning.”
“Then breakfast. I’ll take you to the airport.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” His eyes are burning into mine.
“I don’t need to explain myself to you again.”
“You’re right, you don’t, but do it anyway. Please.”
“I have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t care.”
“Clearly.” I raise both brows pointedly. “And besides, you’re going to be my boss.”
He shrugs. “So?”
“So I think it’s best if I keep my distance.” Because if I don’t…if I have one more drink with you…if I agree to breakfast with you…
I don’t know what might happen.
Nothing.
I silently berate myself for even allowing that thought to slip through. Nothing will happen—ever. I’m with William. I’m going to marry William someday.
I’m not sure why I have to keep reminding myself of that fact when I’m in Carson King’s presence.
“Good night, Carson.”
He looks as disappointed as I feel. I look away, because those eyes are damaging me. They’re tempting me away from everything I hold dear, and it’s not worth it—not for someone like him.
I don’t wait for his reply. Instead, I turn away from him, stride the few steps toward the elevator, and press the call button.