Page 69 of If the Ring Fits

Rowena is still getting ready in our room while I handle the last-minute details out here. But even when she isn’t nearby, she consumes my thoughts—the complexity of our connection, the undeniable pull between us, I can’t seem to resist no matter how hard I try. Today, there will be no hiding from her, no escaping away to the office, nothing to keep my mind off her.

Sophie alerts me that the first guests are trickling in, and I station myself near the entrance to welcome them. Rowena should get here any minute, sharing the hosting duties with me. I’m equally impatient and reluctant for that moment to come.

Charles, a colleague from the London office, claps me on the back, startling me from my reverie. I paste on a grin.

“Charles, great to have you here. Grab a drink, the bar’s open.” I gesture toward the white-clothed tables where champagne glasses glitter in the sun.

More guests arrive in a steady stream—coworkers, clients, Rowena’s group of friends. I make the rounds, shaking hands, engaging in small talk, but my eyes keep darting to the resort’s doors. Where is she?

Then Rowena emerges, and the world stops spinning. She’s a vision in a pale pink silk slip dress that clings to her in all the wrong places, the thin straps leaving her shoulders tantalizingly bare. The dress is so simple, so barely there, she’s practically naked. My mouth goes cotton dry. I want to memorize every dip and swell of her body beneath that whisper of silk and at the same time, forget I ever saw her in it.

Keep your distance, I warn myself sternly. But then her eyes meet mine and she smiles, radiant and heart-stopping, and I wonder how I’m supposed to survive the night with her looking like that.

Rowena glides toward me, a sensual smile playing on her lips. As she reaches me, she slips her hand into mine, intertwining our fingers as if it were the most natural gesture in the world. I go rigid instead, struggling to maintain my composure, to remember how to breathe.

“You look beautiful.” I force the words past the tightness in my throat, my voice rough.

“Thank you, Bunny.” She looks at me from under her long lashes, eyes sparkling with an unknown purpose. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Before I can reply, Dominic strides in. He greets us with abroad smile and a nod of approval. “Rowena, lovely as ever.” He bows his head at her. “And Adrian, my star. I heard the Johnson deal went through flawlessly.”

I give a confident shrug as if closing the new investors had cost me nothing. No matter that I’ve spent every awake minute of the last two weeks focused on securing the funds, lest my thoughts drift to the forbidden woman currently standing by my side.

But Dominic somehow sees straight through the bravado. He turns to Rowena. “I hope you didn’t feel too abandoned while he was working late.”

“Never. Adrian is always there when I need him.” Rowena half presses herself into me, her hand coming to rest on my chest, a feather-light touch that sears through my linen shirt. My heart pounds beneath her palm. Can she feel it? “I’ve never felt less alone than since we got together. And I’m the same when I have a new project. I lose myself in my work. We understand each other in that way.”

“Great, it’s important to…”

The rest of Dominic’s reply is lost on me because with Rowena pressing herself against my side, half-turned into me, I have a clear view of the rear of her dress—or rather, the lack thereof. The same two thin straps that curl over her shoulders cross once over her otherwise bare back, exposing an expanse of smooth, tempting skin. I exhale shakily, my fingers itching to trace the path of those silken strips of fabric, to unravel them and uncover the hidden treasures beneath.

Dominic clears his throat, a knowing glint in his eye. “Adrian? Did you hear me?”

I want to say yes, but my mind was wholly preoccupied with thoughts of peeling Rowena’s dress off her shoulders, oftrailing my lips down her spine, and I’ve no idea what my boss asked.

Heat crawls up my neck. “Sorry, Dominic. What was that?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Never mind. We can discuss it later. If I had such a beautiful woman on my arm, I’d be distracted, too.” With a wink, he excuses himself to get a drink.

I keep my arms firmly by my sides, clenching my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching for Rowena. She’s already touching me enough for the both of us, her fingers now casually curling over my biceps. Is she doing it on purpose, or simply playing her part?

After our conversation two weeks ago, I thought we were clear on not confusing things. But I’m not a saint, and my self-control is wearing thin. Why is she torturing me so sweetly?

Whatever she’s doing, it has to stop. I step away from her, putting some much-needed space between myself and her soft curves. The reprieve is short-lived as the photographer we hired for the event appears not a minute later, asking us to pose for a photo.

Rowena closes the gap between us once more, her hand cupping my face as her lips brush against my cheek. My blood simmers at the innocent yet maddening gesture. She’s pushing me to my limits, and I suspect she knows it. That everything she’s doing is deliberate.

Once everyone has arrived, I slip away to get a strong drink, desperate to calm my frayed nerves. But as I down the amber liquid, I still sense the inevitability of her pull. The urge to be close to her.

Even if I had the strength to stay away today, I couldn’t do it because we have to pretend we’re a happy couple. At least,that’s the excuse I give myself as I search for her in the sea of people again.

I find her talking to her friends, their laughter ringing out across the garden. There’s a beautiful woman with them who I don’t recognize. I greet them politely, and introduce myself to the stranger, Dylan’s new girlfriend, it turns out.

Servers in crisp white uniforms bring forward trays of hors d’oeuvres, creating a distraction, and I steal Rowena away.

We move through the crowd together, her arm linked through mine, pulling me closer with every step. Desire battles with the need to maintain boundaries, a war raging inside me. As we chat with colleagues, Rowena’s fingers find my shirt collar, gently straightening it. Each contact is a reminder of the attraction I’m trying to resist.

I’m losing the battle.

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