The five-star restaurant is fabulous, and as I sip my merlot, I eye Ken across the table. He’s been talking to me for the past twenty minutes about a case he’s currently working on. As a litigator in corporate law, he’s always swamped with these boring-as-hell caseloads dealing with merging corporations and bickering CEOs. I can’t stand hearing him talk about it, but out of consideration, I always listen. I know that everyone needs to unload about their day; I just wish Ken’s baggage wasn’t so dull.
As he prattles on about the clever way his client managed to conceal an entire account from the vying corporation, I allow my mind to wander. I wonder what I’d be doing if I’d left my office with Ronin instead of Ken. Which is ridiculous because I’m pretty sure that I’d bore Ronin Shaw out of his ever-loving mind. The way he expected me to just go out to dinner with him at a moment’s notice, on a whim? The way he called whatever I’d be doing with Ken “vanilla”? My control issues aren’t something a man like that has patience for. All control freaks get their start somewhere, and I’ve been this way since I was seventeen years old.
But it’s clear to me that Ronin likes to be in control, too. And there’s no way I’d give it up.
It’d take an act of God to change me, and as much as I’m shocked by my fantasies about Ronin’s capable hands exploring my entire body, and that sensuous mouth doing the dirtiest things imaginable to the most intimate parts of me, I know that it’ll never happen. He’s off-limits for so many reasons. One of which being I wouldn’t want to cause weirdness or uncomfortable scenes between us when we’re around my sister and Jeremy. As far as I know, Ronin doesn’t do relationships. And I don’t do one-night stands. For me, there’s no in between, regardless of how attracted to him I am.
But I can’t help thinking: What if Ronin had taken me out tonight? What would we have done? I’m guessing this stuffy restaurant wouldn’t have been at the top of his list. These are the kind of places I go out to, because these are the kinds of places the men I date take me. Men who are easy for me to read and predict. Men who can’t get too deep inside my head, because that place is too messy for even me to be most of the time. I just want peace and quiet and men like Ken.
I’m pretty sure that peace and quiet isn’t even in Ronin Shaw’s vocabulary. Not that he’s a loud and showy guy. He’s laid-back and pensive most of the time, and you can tell that he’s thought about every single thing that comes out of his mouth. He’s a deep thinker. But thanks to his looks and the confident way he carries himself, Ronin always gets what he wants. He doesn’t even have to try where women are concerned. Hell, I certainly have a weakness for him, even though I’m trying damn hard not to. And the last thing I’d want is his knowing eyes focused on me, figuring out all the things I have hidden inside. Like the reason for my drastic change of appearance during and after high school. And the reason I’d rather die than ever become that girl again.
Ronin’s the kind of man who takes control. And that’s simply not something I’m willing to give up, not ever.
“Olive?” Ken’s irritation snaps me to attention, and I focus on his watery blue eyes. “Did you hear a word I’ve been saying?”
I nod, offering him a confident smile to reassure him. “Of course, Ken. I understand the accomplishment you must feel, now that the merger is finally under way.”
He relaxes a little, satisfied that I’ve been listening, and nods with pompous pride. Why haven’t I noticed before now just how irritated I am by his behavior? “That’s right. Without my expertise, there’s no way that deal would have gone through.”
I sip my wine and offer him an understanding tip of the lips. “It’s why you’re up for making partner, right? No one is more qualified than you.” Stroke, stroke, stroke.
He nods, sipping his own glass of chardonnay. “You’re damn right. I’m going to run that place one day.”
I try really, really hard not to roll my eyes. Ambition isn’t anything to scoff at, and I’m sure that Ken will have top billing at his law office in the future. He works hard, and his career is the most important thing in his life.
It’s why I’m with him. If the law and his job are at the top of his priorities list, trying to figure me out won’t be. And I’m all good with that.
Our server brings our dinners. Ken tried to order for me, but I draw the line at that.
“I’ve already looked at the menu online and know exactly what I want to order,” I’d told him sweetly.
He seemed a bit disgruntled, but as I cut a bite of my grilled chicken Caesar salad sans dressing and put it in my mouth, I’m thankful I ordered what I really like. Ken doesn’t know me well enough to have a handle on my likes and dislikes.
After dinner, we climb into his sleek two-door luxury car and speed toward my home in the suburbs near Wrightsville Beach. It was the place where my sister Rayne had fled when she’d left Phoenix in a hurry. But since she’s now happily living with her new husband and their family is complete, I have my house to myself. The way I like it.
Pulling into my driveway, my palms suddenly begin to sweat. Brushing them against my skirt, I jerk my head toward Ken as he shuts off the car and glances over at me. He leans back in his seat, perfectly at ease while inside my emotions are a jumbled mess.
I haven’t had a lot of sexual partners, because, for me, it’s just a part of dating. If I feel attracted enough to someone to take them to bed, I do, and I don’t have any qualms about it. And up until tonight, I thought I had that with Ken. But now, instead of the blond-haired, blue-eyed man sitting across from me, as handsome as he is, I kept picturing another man in the driver’s seat of a different car. Ken reaches across the console for my hand. “Walk you to the door?”
His voice was smooth, knowing. Apparently, he completely understood the five dates rule.
My insides tighten, my stomach clenching for reasons I can’t identify. “Sure.”
We both exit the car and stroll up my neat and tidy front walk. Arriving at my red front door, I stop and turn toward him. Ken leans in, his lips catching mine in a soft caress. I return the kiss, but my heart isn’t in it. Leaning back, I plaster a bright smile.
“God, it’s been an exhausting day. Did I tell you I started a new project at the oceanfront in addition to the Victorian I’m working on downtown? My feet are killing me.” I send him a guilty smile, shifting on my feet. I could wear heels for twenty-four hours straight, but Ken doesn’t need to know that.
Ken grins. “Then let’s get you inside and prop those feet up.” He reaches for the keys dangling from my fingers.
“Actually…” I hedge, causing him to lift his eyes toward mine again. “I think I’m going to call it a night here. But thank you so much for dinner, Ken. It was nice to see you again after being gone so long.”
He schools his expression, not allowing his disappointment to bleed through his perfectly handsome features. “I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow. We have those theater tickets.”
No doubt that event will include dinner at a five-star restaurant.
The thrills.
I nod as I work the key into the door. “Thanks, Ken. Yes, I’ll see you then.” Pushing the front door open, I give him one last smile before slipping inside and closing the door behind me. The comforting darkness of my home greets me as I lean against the door and immediately pull off my black stilettos. I sigh as my back hits the wood and take a moment to mull over the events of the day. Of the week. Of the month, really.
I close my eyes, briefly remembering Clara, the old woman who’d become a mentor to me. I learned so much from her while designing her chateau, and even in her early seventies she was so vigorous and full of life. I had no idea that she was dying, and redesigning her beautiful home was one of the last things she would do. No idea that time spent in her home would be the last time I felt safe.
When my thoughts stray to the e-mail I received just before leaving to go to France, all traces of warmth leave me. I’ve been avoiding thinking about that message ever since I came back to Wilmington. But as I remember, I can feel the color draining from my face.
Inhaling, I open my eyes and reach for the light switch beside the door and flick it on. I blink, zeroing in on the scene in my front hallway, and then I blink again.
My hand flies to my throat where the scream is lodged.