CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tabby
I felt raw. Whatever desire Owen had built up inside me at The Club was gone, washed away like a twig on the sand at high tide. There was something to be said about females having their own version of blue balls because my sex was prickling to the point of pain, but I had absolutely no interest in continuing the stimulation to satisfy a physical need because my mental arousal had dissolved entirely.
“I didn’t know you liked your women for free.”
The words kept rolling around in my head, vicious little marbles cracking against each other, making my head ache and my stomach hurt. It was a simple sentence, not to mention one clearly said for the sake of cruelty, but it was heavy and bitter and not in the least forgettable.
I didn’t speak as the limo cruised down the New Orleans streets. Aside from the rustling of fabric when I jostled my leg or the clinking of ice in Owen’s glass, there was silence. I had nothing to say, even though I had a million questions to ask. There were twice as many questions now. The distraction of the vibrating panties he’d continuously plagued me with throughout the auction had made watching and observing impossible, thus leaving the mysteries of The Blackjack Club and its members still intact, and I’d acquired a whole host of new wonderings in the second it took for Pippa Marquardt to make her comment. These wonderings, however, were centralized around one particular Club member rather than the whole entity, and I resented them all the more for it.
But he wasn’t my boyfriend. I didn’t have a right to ask him about what Pippa had said.
Did I?
I mean, I was sleeping with him. We were engaging in intimacies — often. For Christ’s sake, we’d had sex earlier in the same place I was sitting. Some schools of thought would have claimed that gave me an automatic right to know about his life to some extent, especially the extent that now had me bothered.
On the other hand, he wasn’t my boyfriend, and I’d always felt a lack of a proper title meant no disclosure obligations short of those that could affect one’s health and well-being. It was a clause that had served me well in the past, but Owen was nothing like my romances of the past. This relationship had thus far been the exception to every rule.
But we were dating. Weren’t we dating? We’d been on four dates. Then again, were they actually dates? Doing his PR photography wasn’t really a date, but the lunch part had felt datelike. Accompanying me to Grace’s wedding was definitely in the realm of a date. Taking me to The Club… well, I’d considered it a date but that was up for debate. And there was tonight, which included a phenomenal dinner, and that was inarguably a date. So, at the very least, we’d been on two dates and two maybes, which still meant we were seeing each other. Didn’t that entitle me to ask some uncomfortable questions?
The seesaw in my brain made my temples throb, and I leaned my head back against the seat. The leather felt too familiar against my skin, taking me back to that afternoon when I’d felt that leather on my back and my behind and my chest and my forehead. A large part of me still wanted Owen to dismiss Stephan for the night and come up to my room. Uncertainties or not, his sexual prowess was such that I was starting to crave it as much as I craved my morning tea, and my clit had zero uncertainties of its own.
I couldn’t shake what Pippa said, though, and I knew even if Owen came up to my room with me I wouldn’t be able to continue what he’d started. I hated that. Pippa obviously considered me to be competition for Owen’s affections, and there was no doubt in my mind she would’ve said whatever she could to make me slap him and walk out in a huff just so she’d have a shot at standing at his side. If we’d happened across her on the street and there was no Blackjack Club, I probably would have asked him about it after she walked away and spent the rest of the night teasing him about needing a fat wallet to get a woman. Between the abundance of unknowns about the Club and Owen’s role within it, and now the suggestion that he preferred to keep company with prostitutes, I was shaken rather than amused.
Not a word had been exchanged between us by the time the limo came to a stop outside the Ritz. True to form, however, Owen shimmied out of the limo and waved Stephan back into the car so he could help me out himself.
“Thank you for dinner,” I said. Whatever his secrets, he deserved at least that.
“Of course,” he returned softly.
I wanted to ask what he was thinking or feeling. His face was difficult to read. I thought I saw anger somewhere in his eyes and there was irrefutable wariness as he looked back at me, but beyond that I had no idea. My emotional malaise intensified.
The plane ticket he’d sent me to come to New Orleans had been one-way, and I had no idea when he intended me to go back home. Again, I felt an urge to ask him to come up in case he’d only planned for me to stay one night. I didn’t want to return to Chicago tomorrow with a boatload of questions and feelings for him that were even more tangled and confusing than those I’d experienced after leaving Louisiana the first time. Nevertheless, Pippa’s voice sang out in my head once more, and I knew I couldn’t bring him back to my room, so I decided just to tell him goodnight and beat myself up about it later.
“I was hoping you would join me tomorrow,” he said before I could speak. “My restaurant is having its soft opening, and you liked the food last time.”
I blinked. Evidently, he meant for me to stay at least one more day, but the offer didn’t fill me with the same fluttering anticipation I’d felt at his previous requests. I was torn. Going with him meant I’d have an environment accommodating to conversation in which to approach the topics needling me, but it also meant there was a chance I would discover something else about him that made me experience a mild case of nausea.
He bent at the knees a bit to peer directly into my face. “If it’ll help persuade you, your pictures will be out for everyone to see,” he persisted. A faint smile crossed his lips.
“Yeah,” I agreed. It would’ve been childish for me to turn him down for the simple fact that I was afraid I’d find out more unsavory information. After all, the truth was the truth whether I heard about it or not, and I wasn’t going to be doing myself any favors if I remained in the dark. “I’ll go.”
“Great.” He leaned toward me, but rather than kissing me on the mouth as I expected, he gently laid his lips upon my forehead. It was the same romantic gesture I’d nearly swooned over before, but now it felt compulsory. The entire mood of our interactions had changed from a single sentence spoken by a woman who was a perfect stranger to me.
As I trudged back to my room, I realized my footfalls were heavier than usual. Every step was like a thud, and even the cheerful clacking of my heels on the marble floor did nothing to convince me it was all in my head. It wasn’t. Something had definitely changed, and if I was going to go out with him again tomorrow, I had to address it.
I needed the answers.
The suite looked smaller when I entered. All of the elaborate décor and plush seating and flawless feng shui was like a backdrop to my sullen attitude. I went straight into the bedroom, stared at the comforter that hours ago had displayed the exact outfit I wore now, and started to undress. In a parallel universe, it was Owen’s hands slipping the expensive gown over my curves. It was his fingers unwinding the straps from around my ankles and plucking the shoes from my feet. His touch was brushing the nape of my neck to undo the clasp holding the diamond necklace in place.
Not in this universe. In this universe, I was doing it all myself with a troubled mind and miserable spirit. I never could’ve imagined feeling so badly while standing in a glamorous suite in the Ritz of New Orleans.
By the time I slid under the covers, a new knot had formed in my belly. The knots I’d experienced previously were twisted nerves and seedlings of hope and writhing buds of arousal. This knot was sickening, a numb void that somehow felt worse than being pummeled with a million emotions at once. Dating Owen up to this point had been like a dream, but in one fell swoop it had become my nightmare.
I didn’t fall asleep for a long time.