Page 178 of Charming Deception

“Oh, I know him very well.”

“He wouldn’t touch me. Not for weeks, until he knew I was ready.”

I don’t know why I tell him that. Maybe I just want him to understand.

To know that there’s something real between Jameson and me.

For a man who owns a sex club, the fact that his brother abstained from having sex with me in the beginning of our relationship must surely have meaning.

Maybe he’ll even understand why Jameson did it better than I do.

But he says, “Is that what you’ve convinced yourself to believe? He did it for you? If you think you know him, you haven’t looked hard enough yet.” He rises to his feet, buttoning his jacket. “Jamie might share his wealth, but he won’t give it up. Not even for you. Have a nice evening, Megan.”

What the hell did that mean?

Give it up?

I watch him walk away, my heart in my throat.

And he warned me that Harlan was the cynical one.

* * *

The conversation with Jameson’s brother leaves me ill at ease.

I pass on dessert, and as soon as Jameson and I are heading home in his car, I tell him, “I don’t think Damian likes me.”

“Did he say something?” He draws closer to me on the seat. I keep staring out the window. “He’s just being protective, I’m sure. He doesn’t know you yet.”

“He doesn’t like Cole either.”

He sighs. “Damian holds killer grudges. It’s one of his less charming personality traits.”

“You’d think he’d be grateful to Cole.”

When I look at Jameson, he seems worried, like I’m mad at him.

But I’m not.

“He told me that Cole told you a woman you were seeing was cheating on you. With one of your friends.”

He takes a deep, inaudible breath, and I can tell it’s not one of his favorite topics. “Yes. That’s true.”

“You could’ve told me.”

“It didn’t occur to me to tell you. It’s not something I think about, much less enjoy talking about.”

“Why do I feel like there are other things you’re not telling me?”

He slides his hand over mine and squeezes it.

“I’ll tell you anything. I didn’t know you wanted to know more about my previous relationships.”

I look away, out the window. “I really don’t.”

* * *

I know it.

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