Page 10 of The Desire

The whole house is old but with a stylish modern feel. I can see how it portrays strength and confidence in its dark manly colors. A reflection of the owner who you can tell has no woman in his life to add those slight feminine touches, which is just the way he wants it. Which is why I try to remind myself every time my thoughts wander to him, he doesn’t do relationships, and the reason is he doesn’t want a relationship. It’s a choice for him, not like me who just can’t find the right guy.

“What do you think of my home?” His voice is back beside me as he passes me my drink. I wonder if he will suspect something’s wrong if I drink it down in one go.

“Lovely, just not what I was expecting.” Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.

“What did you expect?” He smiles as he answers for me. “A slick modern bachelor pad, full of technological gadgets.”

“Mm-hmm,” I answer between sips of my drink that I’m drinking way too fast on an empty stomach.

“You aren’t the only one who is full of little surprises, Elouise. You’d be surprised what I’m hiding under this suit.” Running his hand through his hair almost has me salivating. Down, girl! You might know exactly what he is packing in those pants, but I’m not sure that was entirely what he meant.

Who am I kidding, that’s exactly what he was hinting at with his double entendre. He might pretend ninety-nine percent of the time that nothing happened between us, but that one percent of the time just slipped through.

“Where’s my drink, Mr. Host?” Tori saves me with her complaint that her drink isn’t in her hands yet.

“Coming, coming. So impatient, just like in the office.” Chuckling, he heads back to the drink cabinet, giving me the reprieve I need. I quickly scurry to sit down next to Tori, who is trying to start a conversation with Flynn’s date, but she has the face of a dead fish and isn’t saying much.

As I sit, Tori looks to me, facing away from the fish woman. Rolling her eyes at me, she tries to convey without words that it’s going to be a long night if we are expected to be all buddy-buddy with her.

The boys are all now standing in front of the drink cabinet, laughing over something and getting a little louder, which is normal. They might work together every day, but when they clock off, they let their guards down and try to relax, most of the time with no work talk.

“Are they always this rowdy?” Fish-face asks. Shit, I don’t even know her name yet. Not that it matters, she doesn’t want anything to do with me.

Tori and I look at each other and just start laughing.

“This is just normal conversation. You should see them after a few more drinks.” Tori is trying to be nice, but the scowl on woman’s face tells her story. She likes a quiet reserved man who takes her on his arm, helps her be seen at all the right functions, and then if she’s really lucky, takes her home and fucks her missionary style in her perfect little bed.

“Ugh, how unsophisticated. Can you tell me where the powder room is?” She stands, and Tori points her in the right direction.

Once she’s out of earshot, we both burst out laughing.

“What the fuck, Flynn misfired with his pick for tonight’s date. Not his type at all,” I can’t help but saying.

“She is like a wet fish,” Tori says, taking a sip of her G&T.

“That’s what I thought too.” Clinking our glasses together, I feel so much better, finally settling into the room and part of the group. Thank goodness the boys aren’t like that woman who obviously has money like they do. They act like they did before they found their wealth, or so Forrest tells me, and he’s probably the only one I would believe.

A ringing like from an old bell sound comes from the foyer. I’m guessing it’s the doorbell.

Rem walks across the room, looking confused. “Who the hell is that? I’m not expecting anyone else. The security gate’s closed, they needed the code.” His tone of voice is one I have heard a few times when he’s in work mode. Full of suspicion.

I hear the door open, and Rem sounds surprised to see Wallace our driver at the door, talking so softly that we can’t hear what he’s saying.

But it is followed by the slight voice of a woman with a very broad French accent talking in broken English.

“Pardon me, monsieur. You are Mr. Remington Elders?”

“Yes, and who are you?” The apprehension in his voice tells me that something is wrong.

Nic must have sensed the same thing, heading toward the foyer with a serious face.

The whole room is silent as we wait to see what is about to unfold.

Chapter Two

REMINGTON

Not having my phone in my hand is not normal for me, having just passed it to Flynn to show the guys one of the videos of the next thing I’m thinking of doing, rally driving in Australia when we visit for the wedding.

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