CHAPTER EIGHT
“Truth or dare, Abby!” Corinne, my friend from secondary school, shouted at me in a drunken stupor.
I was sitting in a circle of fifteen or so people at a party some university students were throwing. Parents were out of town, and it had quickly become wild and out of control. Kids were partying hard and everyone was having the time of their life.
“Truth,” I said shyly.
People from the group started shouting out a list of obscene sexual questions for Corinne to ask me but she waved them off in pleasure.
I waited in dread as she paused for a dramatic effect.
“Who was the last person you hooked up with?”
The room immediately fell silent as all eyes focused on me.
My body burned in humiliation. I knew I should have taken a dare, but I had been too scared about what they might make me do.
“Ummm…” I stalled for some time, thinking about how I should respond.
Secondary school had a way of making you feel insecure about every decision you made in your life. And there was nothing cool about my situation.
“The truth!” Corinne shouted out, riling everyone up.
“Truth! Truth! Truth!” the group began to chant.
The screams grew in a frenzy around me and before I knew what I was doing, I blurted out the truth.
“Never!” I shouted out to the group. “I’ve never even kissed anyone!”
The room went dead silent. Again.
I couldn’t bear the looks of surprise and shock. Or the laughing gazes of some of the girls who thought it was pathetic I was seventeen and had never even had my first kiss, even though I was in Sixth Form.
It was too much.
I ran out of the room and pushed my way through the maze of partygoers.
I made my way to the backyard where there weren’t that many people and found a secluded area where I could hide from everyone.
But before I could relive the humiliating experience that I was sure would haunt me for the rest of my days, I heard the sound of a lighter. I turned to find a tall man hidden by the night shadows, standing alone in the darkness smoking a cigar. I hadn’t noticed him when I came around the corner.
I was annoyed I wasn’t alone and was about to leave before I heard...
“Is that you, Abby?”
My heart froze.
I would recognize that voice anywhere.
“Michael?” I asked in surprise, wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans.
“It’s me.”
My stomach danced in joy that he was here.
“What are you doing here?”
“I tagged along with some friends.” Michael stepped out of the shadows to walk toward me.
He looked too good to be true.
His rugged looks were so much more appealing than any of the guys I went to school with. He was older. Seasoned. With a maturity that made him even better looking. There was a knowing look in his eyes.
About life.
And fun. Everything that was exciting…
Everything I craved.
“Does the smoke bother you?” he asked politely.
I shook my head. My body and brain were in chaos at just the sight of him. I couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of me.
He put out the cigar even though I really didn’t mind it, then took a sip out the drink he had in his other hand.
“Is everything all right?” he asked as he studied my face.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You seem flustered.” He knew me so well and must have been picking up on my energy.
“A little,” I admitted the obvious.
“Only a few things could throw you off,” he said with a knowing smile. “You’ve either had too much to drink, which thankfully doesn’t seem like the case, or you ran into a guy you like…”
Just now I did, I thought to myself.
“Not quite,” I said to him, my voice shy.
“Then?”
“We were playing truth or dare.”
Michael’s eyes darkened in anger.
“Did something happen?”
“No!” I rushed out. “I opted for a truth question and it was kind of embarrassing, so I had to leave.”
“Why embarrassing?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” I bowed my head, not wanting to look him in the eye.
“Now I’m intrigued.”
I was so embarrassed yet, my body was humming in excitement because of his close proximity.
“You can say anything to me, Abby.” His voice was gentle. “I promise I won’t tell anyone your secrets. You know you can trust me.”
I looked up at him and the kindness I saw in his eyes was nearly my undoing. Later, when I would relive what happened a million times over in my head, I would remember the telltale signs of him being smashed—signs I should have noticed but had been too blinded to see.
The glassy look in his eyes.
The slight sway in his movements when he stepped closer to me. At the time, I had been too enamored to see it. Too thrilled to be in his company.
All I cared about was being in his world.
“So what truth did they ask you?” he asked again.
“They wanted to know when I had last been intimate with a man,” I whispered to him, embarrassed to be repeating it.
My reply threw Michael. Like he couldn’t believe someone would even ask me a question that was so sexual in nature.
I watched him take a step back from me. I felt his eyes move over my body as he studied me from head to toe.
Something around us shifted.
Like he was looking at me for the first time.
Not as a child…
But all grown-up.
There was a glimmer in his eyes, like he was intrigued by what he was seeing.
“And what was your answer?”
I looked up at him and watched how his eyes darkened, his gaze roaming over me in a way I had only dreamed about.
“Never.”
I should have known.
When he put his cup down, I should have seen the signs but in my innocence, I had no idea what was coming for me.
“It’s pathetic, I know.”
“Not pathetic,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s sweet. And innocent, like you.”
I shrugged my shoulders uncomfortably, taken aback by his compliment.
“Would you like it to be different?” His voice was husky.
“What?” I asked, not following his question.
“Your level of experience.”
“Of course I would!” I said, hoping I sounded mature and worldly. “But the opportunity has to be there.”
“I won’t believe you if you tell me you’re not popular with the guys.” Michael complimented me again as his gaze swept over me appreciatively. “You’re too beautiful to go unnoticed.”
Michael thought I was beautiful?
I was like a flower blooming under the rays of the sun. I wanted to shout out in joy. Michael Sinclair finding me attractive was everything I had ever wished for.
But I couldn’t tell him I found the guys in my form immature. Lacking. Especially when I compared every single one of them to him.
“They’re just not my type,” I finally said.
“What’s your type?”
You, I wanted to tell him. You are my type. But I didn’t dare.
“I’ll know when I see him,” I said instead, staring boldly into his eyes.
Michael watched me for a long moment like he was weighing something in his head. I waited, holding my breath for his next move.
“What would you say if I could solve your problem and give you exactly what you want?” His voice was enigmatic, hypnotizing me.
“You?” I asked in confusion until reality slowly started to dawn on me.
“Yes,” he replied as he pulled me close into his body. “Definitely. Me.”
I didn’t stand a chance.
One second I was the sad girl who’d never been kissed…
And the next, I was a woman awakened to a desire I would long for, crave, for every day after…
His full, sensual lips came down on mine, coaxing them softly, slowly teaching me how to respond to his gentle touch. His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me against his hard body as continued to kiss me so sweetly.
He slowly pulled his lips away as I clung to his jacket.
It was the best moment of my life.
“That was my first kiss,” I whispered innocently to him.
Michael rubbed his cheek against mine, breathing me in, causing butterflies to flutter around in my stomach.
“There’s more to it.” His voice was possessive, knowing.
“More?”
Whatever it was, I wanted it.
Something about the way I asked the question made him lose whatever control he was holding on to, and within seconds I was introduced to the full force of his passion.
“This. Is. More.”
Before I knew what was happening, he lifted me up, pushed me against the brick wall of the pool house and proceeded to show me what sexual desire really meant.
His tongue swept into my mouth. He lifted my hands above my head as his lips captured mine, staking ownership on my soul. His tongue teased me, tormented me, turned my body on in ways I didn’t even understand.
“Do you want more?” His words were husky, causing goose bumps to run all over my body as his lips continued to ravage me.
“Yes,” I responded, barely able to think.
He took a shuddering breath and finally stepped away, giving us both distance to try to breathe normally again. Michael closed his eyes for a moment, like he was fighting for control.
When he opened them, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“Now you know.”
Dreaming about Michael Sinclair all weekend does not help my mood come Monday morning. I do everything in my power to block any thoughts about him during the day, but at night when I fall asleep, I’m at the mercy of my free will.
I’m so wound up I decide to go to the office early and work on filling Michael’s schedule with meetings and events that will keep him out of the office as much as humanly possible.
Since I’m so early, the office is thankfully empty. I have headphones in and am listening to Harry Styles’ album and am so in the zone, I fail to notice Michael walking into the office and coming straight to my desk.
My heart stops when I look up and find him standing there staring at me.
He looks good.
A bit thinner than normal, but he has a healthy glow, like he spent the week in the sun.
He’s dressed in his usual uniform, jeans and a T-shirt.
Delicious.
I wish I didn’t care.
But I do.
So do. I take off my headphones and meet his gaze.
“Hi,” he says softly.
I think about our last conversation. It didn’t end well. I’d like nothing more than to go at him some more. But no matter what happened between us, he’s still my boss. And I promised myself I would be mature and rational. I could handle what happened between us. I was an adult. A professional.
“Hi.”
“Can I see you in my office?” His voice is neutral, detached almost, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“Of course,” I reply briskly, as I stand up and grab my binder.
My heart races erratically as he follows me into his office. His energy is so tightly wound up I can feel him struggle for control.
He shuts the door as I make my way to stand in front of his desk.
“Have a seat,” he tells me.
“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stand,” I reply curtly. I’d like to keep the advantage.
“I’d prefer you to sit,” Michael commands, ignoring my wishes.
Of course you do.
I take a deep breath in to force myself not to argue with him. I sit down and wait. My heart gives a wild kick and it takes everything I have to pretend like I’m completely unaffected by him. I pray he can’t tell what he’s doing to me.
How hurt I am by his rejection.
How devastated I’ve been since he’s been gone.
How sitting across from him now makes me feel like I’m lost and found at the same time.
“How are you?”
How am I? Logically, I know it’s the polite way to start a conversation, but the irrational part of me is angry he’s asking.
How does he think I am?
“As well as can be expected,” I say, meeting his bright blue gaze. “And you?”
“Same.”
Wonderful.
“I appreciated your daily updates while I was away,” he continues in an emotionless voice. “They were thorough.”
“I’m glad you liked them.”
There’s another uncomfortable silence and Michael sighs.
“Abby,” he begins slowly. “I had a lot of time to think…”
My heartbeat picks up its pace.
“And you were right.”
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so sick as I wait for him to continue.
“My behavior was inexcusable,” he goes on to my shock. “And unprofessional. I apologize if I hurt you.”
If anything, his apology makes me feel worse than before. It’s like we’re having a “let’s break up” conversation and we’re not even together.
“I need you here this month.” Michael’s voice is calm as he goes on. “Especially with Danielle’s wedding coming up—I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how wound up she is over it… but if you want to leave after that, you can. I won’t stop you.”
I’m surprised by how hurt I am from his words even though he’s giving me exactly what I asked for.
The pit in my stomach is almost too much to bear.
“Perfect,” I force myself to say as I wait for him to continue and address the rest—the kiss, the intimacy we shared. I fully expect him to go there.
But he doesn’t.
“Great,” Michael says abruptly as he makes his way to his desk.
I stay seated for a moment.
“You can go back to your desk,” Michael says excusing me as he clicks his mouse to look at his computer.
I watch as he runs a rough hand through his hair and it’s at that moment that I finally notice how stressed out he actually looks.
And tired.
Even though I’m still angry and hurt by him, I can’t stop myself from caring.
“Is everything all right?” I ask as I slowly stand up.
Michael looks up at me and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” he returns, making me feel almost foolish for asking.
“I don’t know. You seem off, but I guess I’m mistaken. Sorry I asked.”
I turn abruptly and make my way to the door, angry that I cared enough to go there with him.
“It’s my brother.” His voice is low.
I stop, responding to the pain I hear in his voice.
“William?” I say in understanding as I slowly turn to look at him.
“Yes,” Michael says with a sad smile. “Sometimes… sometimes his death just hits me hard. For being the youngest, he always seemed to have it all together. More than Clayton and me. We were always so protective of him. We weren’t ready for this. ”
His ability to express his pain over his brother’s loss makes my heart swell in tenderness. It’s not an easy thing to do, and I know from first-hand experience.
“Everyone loved him,” I tell him. “He was such a good man.”
Michael closes his eyes and nods.
“It shouldn’t have been him,” he finally says, his voice tortured.
“Unfortunately, we’re not given a choice,” I say softly, understanding the depth of his pain. “It’s the worst part about life.”
I wish I could walk over and pull him in arms and take away his sadness. I know what loss feels like. I’ve lived with it my whole life.
“It is,” Michael agrees and fixes me with a sympathetic look. “And you know it well.”
I feel the familiar lump in my throat whenever someone brings up the fact that I grew up without my father.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask him quietly just wanting to escape the sympathy I see in his eyes.
“I’m all right, thank you,” Michael replies politely.
I nod in acknowledgment then turn to leave.
“Abby?” Michael calls out.
I stop when I reach his door.
“There’s one more thing…”
“Yes?” I turn around to look at him.
“I don’t consider anything that’s happened between us a mistake.”
***
“What were his exact words?” Danielle asks in excitement as we sit huddled in her office.
“I just told you!” I tell her again as I take a bite of the giant slice of chocolate cake I bought for lunch.
“This is just too good!” she says, shaking her head in happiness.
“How is this good?” I ask in bewilderment, my mouth so full I’m sure Danielle can barely make out my words. “Why would he even say that to me? What is he trying to do… completely ruin my emotional health?”
“Probably,” Danielle says as she sets her salad down and gets up.
She presses a button behind her desk and the blinds slide down her office windows so no one can see inside.
I watch her curiously.
“Stand up.” Her voice is commanding as she crosses her arms.
“Why?” I ask mid-bite.
“Put that caloric nightmare down and stand up.” Danielle shakes her head in admonishment. “For God’s sake Abby, women usually can’t eat when they’re so wound up emotionally! I’ve never met anyone like you before. It’s like you’re just the opposite.”
“I know,” I tell her guiltily. “I like to eat my feelings. It’s a real problem.”
I put the cake down and slowly stand up.
Danielle gives me the once over and sighs.
“This will not do at all,” she finally says.
“What?”
“First, wipe the chocolate crumbs from your lips,” she snaps out like a general.
Embarrassed, I quickly do as she says.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Just stand still and let me work my magic for a second. It won’t take much.”
Danielle smoothes out my knee-length black fitted skirt, like she’s dusting it off for crumbs, then proceeds to unbutton the top three buttons of my white shirt.
“What are you doing?” Embarrassed, I try to cover up my chest.
“Showing off some of your incredible assets,” she tells me, swatting my hand away. “It’s about time you make yourself known in this office. You’re single and available.”
“I don’t want to be known—” I argue.
“Too bad,” she snaps back at me.
For the next fifteen minutes, Danielle proceeds to ignore all my protests and gives me an office makeover. She takes my hair out of the tight bun and brushes the mahogany strands out. Then she pulls out her small makeup bag and proceeds to apply eyeliner, mascara, blush, and lip gloss. More makeup than I usually ever wear to the office.
“You have the most beautiful blue eyes,” Danielle compliments me.
“Come on,” I argue, rolling my eyes.
“I’m serious,” Danielle continues. “You don’t know how pretty you are. You’ve been hiding from yourself for so long, immersed in a little bubble that you’ve created… it’s enough. It’s time Abby comes out and joins the rest of the world.”
Danielle holds a small mirror up so I can study her handiwork.
I recognize the face that looks back at me.
But I don’t.
Danielle didn’t overdo it with the makeup, she just lightly accentuated all my features. Made them more pronounced. My blue eyes, more vivid. My lips, more full. My cheekbones look high and full of color.
The top of my blouse, now unbuttoned, only shows a hint of cleavage, just enough to give a man something to think about.
To entice.
And I like it.
“Nothing too extreme,” she tells me as she admires her work. “But enough to drive a man wild.”
She winks when she says the last bit.
“Now we’re going to have some fun.”
I was warned.
But I had no idea what Danielle’s game was until later in the day.
I leave her office a while later, hungry still because Danielle threw out the rest of my cake, refusing to let me continue my sugar pig-fest. Michael was gone on a long lunch and I was soon too wrapped up in work to really obsess about when he’d be back. Danielle’s plan seemed to work.
When I made my way around the office on my usual errands, I noticed the appreciative looks from the men. Lyle from IT, stopped me and struck up a conversation, even an intern named David found an excuse to start talking to me. If anything, the attention gives me confidence, a needed boost to my self-esteem and I’m grateful for it.
It’s late in the day when Michael finally comes back to the office. As usual, he stops to chat in the Think Tank before making his way back to his room. I watch him for a moment as he smiles amicably at the group. He exudes confidence and power, demanding respect just by being in the room.
And then there’s the other part of him.
The sensitive side that he revealed when speaking to me about his brother. The side that causes him to defend a little girl being bullied by her stepbrother. The part that makes him more human, just like the rest of us. Another facet to his personality that makes the entire package even more appealing.
It takes everything I have to look away and try to focus on my work.
But then I feel that damn pull.
And I know his focus is now directed at me.
As if on cue, I glance up from the computer screen and our eyes lock. For a moment he looks surprised, then it quickly changes to something else. I watch as his gaze smolders in desire, sweeping over me in appreciation, causing chills to race up and down my spine.
My mouth goes dry and I’m longing for him in seconds.
Before I know it, he’s standing right in front of my desk, his eyes no longer on my face but on my cleavage that Danielle was so anxious to expose. My breasts take on a mind of their own and act as though he’s physically touching me.
My nipples harden.
Lord.
He notices.
I watch Michael’s jaw flex before his gaze slowly moves up to rest on my parted lips and finally my eyes.
I hate myself for not being able to hide how I feel about him. To hide what he does to me. To my composure. To my emotions.
To my body.
“Abby.” His voice is like sex to my ears. “Any messages?”
“It’s been quiet,” I tell him, trying to calm my suddenly racing heart.
Before Michael can respond, Danielle comes to stand next to him.
“Hi, Michael,” her voice is cheerful as she smiles at the two of us. “How was your lunch meeting with Jim?”
“Boring.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised. He’s always been a bit of a pill,” Danielle says with a laugh, then points at me like a proud mother. “So what do you think of Abby’s makeover?”
I narrow my eyes at Danielle trying to communicate telepathically not to embarrass me.
“Your handiwork?” Michael lifts a surprised brow at Danielle as she nods on in pleasure.
“Yes.” She smiles, winking at me.
Michael turns his gaze back to mine and I try to act like his perusal isn’t turning my insides to mush.
“We’re meeting Tom and some of his friends tonight at a pub,” Danielle tells him to my horror. “I’m trying to get Abby to come out of her shell. Don’t you think it’s time she gets out there and starts dating? She’s too pretty and sweet to be single.”
What is she saying?
“Danielle!” I let out an exasperated sigh.
“What?” Danielle gives me an innocent look, but I know better. “Michael’s your cousin. We’re allowed to talk like this. And besides, I’m sure he agrees with me.”
I can barely manage to look at him for his reaction.
“Don’t you, Michael?” Danielle presses him for a response.
Michael’s eyes flicker over me, his jaw tight, before settling on Danielle.
“I’m sure his friends will be enamored,” he finally says in a cold voice, his face expressionless. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Danielle watches Michael head into his office and shut the door behind him. When he’s safely out of sight, she turns and gives me a devilish smile.
“That’ll drive him crazy,” she beams.
“You’re insane!” I whisper to her. “He doesn’t care—”
“Oh, he does,” Danielle says knowingly as she stares at his office.
“I think you’re wrong. And when did we make any plans for the evening?”
“I did for us,” Danielle’s voice is sugary sweet. “And I’m not letting you back out. We are going out for drinks with men tonight. Single men.”
Danielle walks away from me with that warning and mercifully leaves me alone for the next few hours.
And it’s a good thing because Michael doesn’t give me a moment to think. He introduces me to a side of him I’ve never seen before—Mount St. Michael—a volatile volcano that feels like it’s on the verge of an explosion at any second. He pulls me into his office and dictates emails to me, then makes me print them out and stand over him, all while he picks apart every section he told me to write.
“This email is for Miles Charrington—not Mike!” he barks at me, pointing out my small typo.
“I’ll correct it immediately.” I use all my willpower to refrain from telling him that he hadn’t let me spell-check the email and that I would have noticed it if he hadn’t forced me to print it out so fast.
But the sour look on his face stops me from pointing that out to him.
Michael doesn’t give me a second to myself, calling me in his office every half-hour, demanding to know what I’ve gotten done.
Gone is the considerate man I’ve grown accustomed to, and in his place is a tyrant of a boss, putting me on edge with every snappy question he throws my way. His behavior makes me wonder if the sensitivity he displayed earlier in the day when talking about William had been a figment of my imagination.
By the time the office starts closing down, I’m so tightly wound up that I want nothing more than to drink my sorrows away with Danielle and her friends.
“Going to the pub?”
I spin around and look at Michael, who’s now standing outside his door staring at me in a way that makes me so nervous I can feel the sweat begin to form on my chest. I wish I could tell what he’s thinking. His biceps flex as he crosses his arms over his chest. My body tightens on its own accord, and I can feel the air crackle with electricity as we stare at one another.
“I was going to, yes.” I hate myself for sounding nervous. “Unless you need something?”
He lifts his brow.
“Do you?” I ask when he remains silent.
“Are you ready, Abby?” Danielle calls out, interrupting us as she walks over holding onto her purse.
Michael stares at me for a moment longer before turning to Danielle.
“Where are you going?”
“One of your favorite pubs,” Danielle tells him. “The Royal Oak. Manchester United is playing so we were going to watch the game. Would you like to join?”
My heart slams in my chest as I sneak a peek at him.
“I’ve got work to do,” he quickly declines, and I can’t tell if I’m relieved or annoyed he’s not coming. “But I’m sure you’ll have fun.”
“Oh we will,” Danielle says with a promise. “Come on, Abby.”
***
An hour later, I’ve taken three shots of some concoction that Tom, Danielle’s fiancé, had the bartender make for us. Tom is wonderful and handsome, and so in love with Danielle that I’m beyond thrilled for my friend.
I wonder if she knows how lucky she is.
To have a man that’s so crazy in love with her that he doesn’t care who can see it. To love so fiercely and be loved in the same way back... it makes me wonder if I’ll ever have the same.
Luckily, the buzz from the drinks distracts me from heading down that dark path, and I blissfully choose to ignore my current predicament. And I have to admit, it feels good to be out and not obsessing about Michael at my apartment alone.
Stephen, one of Tom’s friends, hasn’t left my side from the moment I walked into the pub. Danielle must have told him I’m the single friend because he can’t be more attentive. I’m flattered by the attention. Stephen’s cute, with his sandy blond hair and brown eyes, and is also very nice. He’s a broker at one of the big firms, and his attentiveness is exactly what I need.
“Are you having fun yet?” Danielle whispers loudly into my ear as the guys cheer on the soccer match.
“I am,” I tell her gratefully as I take a sip of my cocktail. We’re standing around one of the large tables. “I think you realized what I needed more than I did. Thank you for making me come out with you tonight.”
“I told you,” Danielle replies matter-of-factly, sounding as drunk as I feel. “This will show Michael!”
“Yes, it will!” I agree, lifting my drink to cheers with her.
We clink glasses.
“Oh my,” Danielle says in surprise as she looks over my shoulder toward the door to the pub. “I just knew it… but then I didn’t really know. But then I kind of did.”
“Are you drunk?” I laugh in confusion.
“Undoubtedly, but not drunk enough to be seeing things. Not yet, at least,” she says with a happy smile. “Don’t look now, Abby. Michael is here.”
My heart stops.
He’s here?
“I think I might faint,” I whisper to her in disbelief.
My stomach starts to do somersaults.
“Me too,” Danielle whispers back.
“I’m going to die,” I continue on dramatically.
“Don’t die just yet,” she tells me in a no-nonsense voice before the look on her face changes. She smiles in pleasure as Michael walks over to us.
The energy shifts around me. And the pub suddenly feels too small for the both of us.
“Michael.” Danielle’s voice is too damn cheerful. “I’m so happy you stopped by. I thought you might.”
“I’m sure you did.” His voice sounds almost accusatory.
Danielle doesn’t seem to notice.
I hate that my heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice.
I hate that my body has gone on high alert.
I hate that he has to be the one to make me feel so alive.
“Your first drink is on me,” Danielle says to Michael. “I’ll get your favorite whiskey. Keep Abby company for me, will you.”
She gives him an insolent pat on the cheek before walking away.
I want to kill her for leaving me alone with him.
Michael’s presence invades every part of my senses. I try my best to stay utterly still and ignore him. But he’s not having it. His hand rubs my shoulder.
“Abby.”
Static.
Electricity.
The kind that jolts you from the dead back to life.
That’s the feeling that comes over me from a single touch.
“Michael.” I gather the courage to look over at him.
He looks impossibly sexy, wearing a black leather jacket that fits his broad shoulders like butter. I lick my lips nervously and try to act cool. But I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“Having fun?” His voice is polite, his eyes hooded.
“Yes,” I reply, finishing off my drink.
“I’m glad.”
“Are you?” I wonder.
Michael’s eyes flicker in surprise.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Because every time I’m having fun with you, you pull the rug out from underneath me and rob me of my moment of joy.
Before I can answer Stephen takes that moment to walk over to us and hands me a fresh drink.
“I noticed you were running low,” he says politely.
I feel Michael’s body stiffen next to me.
“Thank you,” I reply with a grateful smile then motion toward Michael. “Stephen, have you met Michael Sinclair?”
Stephen’s eyes light up in recognition.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he says, holding out his hand.
From the look on Michael’s face, you’d think he was just asked to eat glass. The look on his face is cold and dismissive. Thankfully, Stephen’s either too smashed or to in awe to notice.
Michael shakes his hand but doesn’t return the sentiment.
There’s an uncomfortable silence.
“I’m a big fan of the work you do,” Stephen says with a friendly smile.
“Are you?” Michael replies, shifting his body into mine, effectively trapping me between him and the table.
His stance is territorial.
Stephen’s eyes narrow as he takes note, like he’s trying to figure out what the story is between us.
“So, you’re Danielle and Abby’s boss,” Stephen continues on, completely unaware of the angry energy Michael is emanating.
“I am.” Michael’s response is abrupt, rude almost.
“He’s also my cousin,” I blurt that piece of information out.
My comment seems to appease Stephen… but Michael on the other hand…
His body stiffens.
His mood shifts into something dangerous.
And volatile.
“Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I ask her to dance with me,” Stephen says as he holds out his hand.
“Of course he won’t mind,” I say with a laugh trying to make a joke of it. I place my drink down on the table and use the opportunity to push past my tormentor and take Stephen’s hand.
I’m too afraid to even look at Michael in the eye.
Stephen leads me out to the makeshift dance floor, and I try my best to pretend Michael isn’t there. The combination of good music and alcohol helps because it doesn’t take long for me to start enjoying myself. Stephen spins me around, and before I know it, I’m laughing and actually having a good time.
But still.
There’s that part of me that knows he’s there. I can feel his eyes on me. The female part that knows he’s watching my every move.
A slow Irish folk love ballad comes on and Stephen pulls me into his arms and starts singing the words to me, his laughter infectious. If Michael were not in the picture or part of my world, Stephen would definitely pique my interest.
“If you don’t mind—” Michael interrupts, breaking up our moment.
If Stephen is as surprised as I am, he covers well.
“Of course,” he says graciously, stepping away and leaving me alone to fend for myself.
Michael pulls me into his arms, his hands move down to my sides, to my lower back, brushing up against the top of my ass, holding onto me much too intimately.
Like I belong to him.
My hands come up his chest to push away from him, to give my body and mind the ability to breathe normally, but when my gaze crashes into his, I pause.
“Shit,” I swear before I can help myself.
The look in Michael’s eyes could light the city on fire.