“Of course.”
“Why did he come back now? After all this time, why now?” I ask.
“Ask him. He didn’t tell me, but I think we both know why he’s back.”
With no more time to waste, we say a quick goodbye. I was sort of looking forward to tonight, and now I can’t wait for it to be over with. The timing of it all couldn’t be worse. After debating telling Pierce, I decide not to because, knowing Blake, he won’t even show up tonight. Or, if he does, we won’t see him.
At 8:33, I open my door to let Pierce know I’m ready only to find him standing in the hallway with his back against his door. He looks edible in a black suit and tie. He’s all I’ve thought about the last hour with exception to the last few minutes. Seeing him now brings him back to the forefront.
“Ready?” I ask, grinning big to mask my nerves.
His lips part as he starts toward me, wrapping his arm around me to pull me to his chest. “Maybe we should skip the party. I can think of something else I’d rather be doing.”
He could convince me with a kiss.
“I already offered that, remember? Besides, we can have the best of both worlds. Let’s go have a drink or two, and then we can come back, and you can do what you said you were going to do.” I need to know if what Mallory said is true, I think to myself. My affections lie with Pierce, but Blake has my curiosity
He grins. Fuck me. “I’ll be thinking about it the whole time we’re there. Remember that when I’m staring at you.”
I swallow hard. Just thinking about it makes me want to push him into my room, but this is business. Business and pleasure can’t be mixed, but they can be stacked. “One hour. We’ll stay one hour then come back here.”
“What are we waiting for then?” he asks, grabbing my hand. “The quicker we get there, the quicker we get back here.”
By the time we step outside to climb in the waiting car, it’s dark outside. This is when I love New York the most—seeing the city lights.
As the car pulls away from the curb, Pierce’s hand grips my thigh. The sleeveless black cocktail dress I’m wearing leaves him lots of room to explore, and he does—his fingertips tracing circles on my inner thighs.
For once, I close my eyes to the passing lights. It’s nice to have someone who helps you forget. There’s a lot I’d like to forget right now. “How long is the ride?” I ask, resting my hand on his knee.
“Just a few more blocks.”
I run my hand up his thigh—all the way—until I feel just how much he’s affected by the simple touches between us. “That’s too bad.”
He leans in, whispering against my ear, “One hour, Ms. Fields.”
He presses his fingers between my legs. My breath hitches. I look up to see if the driver is watching, but he isn’t.
“One hour,” he repeats before pulling his hand away.
The car pulls up in front of a well-appointed brick building on Park Avenue. I wouldn’t be surprised if Wade owned the whole damn thing.
My knees are weak as I step onto the sidewalk, probably a mix of Pierce and needing to eat and who I might see once we’re inside. I hope Mallory is wrong because if she isn’t, I have no idea what I’m going to do. “These things make me kind of nervous,” I admit.
“Stay close to me, okay?”
I nod, letting him lead the way to Wade’s top floor penthouse.
WE’VE BEEN HERE FOR ten minutes, and I already want to evacuate. It’s a room full of people I don’t know … people who I feel are better than me. I’m a frog on a Lillie pad while everyone else in the room owns a pond.
When we first stepped inside, I scanned the room for any sign of him and was relieved that he was nowhere in sight. It wouldn’t be unlike him to not show for something like this.
I smile, walking through the room with Pierce as others greet him.
“Stanley, I haven’t seen you in ages. Where have you been?” It’s the fourth person who has stopped him since we walked in. I haven’t even made it to the appetizers yet.
He squeezes my hand. “I’ve been working on a few projects in the Midwest. You?”
“I just got back from Paris. Did a renovation on a nineteenth century.”
“That’s exciting,” Pierce states. I’ve learned the differences in his tone when he does and does not like someone; this is someone he’d rather pass by. “Royce, I’d like you to meet Lila Fields. She’s my new partner.”
“Nice to meet you,” Royce smiles, holding his hand out to me.
“Like wise,” I respond, dropping Pierce’s hand to accept Royce’s.
As they continue in conversation, my mind drifts off. My eyes scan the room, full of well-dressed men, many with beautiful women on their arms. A few of them look lost like me, but most own the room like professional socialites. This could never be my whole life, I think to myself.
And, as I continue scanning, I see him.
He’s here. The man who stole my soul is standing across the room with his back against the wall. My eyes are locked on him, but his eyes dance around the room like I’m not here. Maybe to him, I never was. Maybe he’s looking for the next one—the girl he’ll show the world to then disappear.
I look beside me—at Pierce—and I feel sick that any part of me even wants to go across the room. I feel sick because there’s a man here who I know could make me happy—who does make me happy—and yet I’m willing to throw it all away. He looks away from Royce, eyes instantly finding mine. He smiles, and I return it the best I can because for just a few more minutes, I need him to think that nothing has changed. And, maybe nothing has.
“I’m going to find the restroom,” I whisper to Pierce.
“I’ll come with you.”
Shaking my head, I say, “No, you stay. I’ll be right back.”
He nods, hesitantly, and I wait for him to turn his attention back to Royce before blazing a path through the crowd, anxious to prove to myself that this isn’t a dream.
The shield cracks.
My heart races.
His eyes still roam, taking in everything … everything but me.
I’m not going to let him out of my sight … I’m not going to let him hide from the anguish he’s buried me in the last several months. He has nowhere to run. Even if he did, I wouldn’t let him, not this time.
A few long strides and I’m standing in front of him, staring into those familiar pained eyes. When you love someone, it’s impossible to look at them and feel hate. You may want to feel it. You may think you feel it, but love and hate can’t co-exist. I hate that I love him, but I can’t hate him.
And, I want to hate him. It would make it easier to love someone like Pierce who deserves my heart. This man stole it months ago, and I don’t think he has any intention of returning it. Sometimes I don’t know if I want it back.
But then, I think of the last few days—few months actually—and I realize another man may be winning it back for me. Maybe it’s not gone forever but simply misplaced.
His hair is a little longer, but he’s the same. The way he stands … the way his fingers curl around a beer bottle. He’s exactly the same.
“Blake,” I whisper, afraid of what he’ll say, what he’ll do. Still afraid he’ll find a way to run away, and I won’t be able to catch him.
He stares at me like he’s never even met me, or maybe he’s spent the last several months trying to forget me. I can’t say I haven’t tried to do the same. There’s not enough alcohol in the world do erase him.
“Does he make you happy?” he finally asks, practically staring through me. He sounds so broken, so sad.
“Who?” I ask, caught off guard by his question.
“Pierce. Does he make you happy?”
My eyes well with tears I’ve left unshed … tears I left for him to see. “Yes,” I whisper, doing my best to hold them in. He deserves to watch every single one of them run down my cheek but not here … not now.