Page 45 of Edge of Secrets

A heavy silence followed her words, and I struggled for something intelligent to say. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

She fixed me with her blazing look, the one that intimidated and aroused me all at once. “I remember her hammering out the details of each new mutually beneficial arrangement. As soon as she was done, off I’d go to another boarding school. Until the guy got bored with her, or she found a richer client.”

I searched for a way to contextualize this new and dangerous information, but it wouldn’t stick to anything. “Oh. I, uh, see.”

“Do you?” She looked away. “It looked all right on the surface, I guess. We were safe, fed, clothed, provided for. But her whole existence revolved around her patrons. Their schedules, their egos, their convenience, their tempers. She didn’t have any energy to spare for me. She didn’t dare prioritize me. Ever. Then she died and I was absolutely alone. It was so fucking sad, it practically destroyed me.”

“I ... ah ...” I floundered for something to say that wasn’t stupid or offensive.

“I don’t want a man to be the center of my life. I don’t want to circle around him, dependent on him, subject to his whims, anxiously scrambling to please him. Fuck that. I’ve got plans and ambitions of my own. I will not get anywhere near that slippery slope, Duncan. Under no circumstances.”

“I never meant to imply that,” I said helplessly.

“It kind of implies itself,” she said. “I’m sorry this embarrasses you. You’re trying to be kind, and help me, and keep me safe. And I appreciate that. I really do. But I have my issues about it, and this is why. Since you were curious.”

I closed my eyes for a moment to calm myself down, let my thoughts settle, and then walked over to her. I took her hands, and held them. Then kissed them.

“You misunderstood me,” I said. “I would never, not in a million years, think that you were for sale. You, of all people.” I lifted her hands to my lips again. “What happened between us is precious, and magical. Like a unicorn. It can’t be bought.”

A flush reddened her cheeks. I was heartened by that.

“Thanks for saying that,” she said. “But I still have to go to work.”

I let out a slow, very controlled breath. It was compromise or die, and I wasn’t ready to die. “Then I’ll drive you,” I announced. “But we’d better get moving.”

Chapter Fifteen

Nell

I listened to the shower through the bathroom door, thinking of his amazing, powerful naked body in there under the pounding stream, water and soapsuds cascading over his contoured muscles. I was so tempted to just peel off my clothes and join him.

But no. He was never quick. It would be long and wet and steaming and soapy and marvelous, and we would both forget all practical issues, getting to work on time, making money, safeguarding my self-respect, meeting my professional obligations. I was already missing the lunch prep. He had completely disarmed me, charmed me, bamboozled me. He’d wrapped me around his little finger.

Or, well … maybe something a little more substantial.

I stared at the suit he’d slung upon the bed. I didn’t know much about fashion, having remained deliberately ignorant of it, but I recognized the elegant cut and fine finishing of costly, bespoke men’s clothing when I saw it. Many thousands of dollars lay there on that rumpled bed, in those smooth, graceful silver-gray garments. He looked so good in his clothes. Though it was more a function of his gorgeous body than skill on the tailor’s part. Having seen him naked, I could bear witness to that personally.

I went back out into the front room. The roses had been stuck into a jug with some water, but the stems were too long for the vessel. I rummaged around, with the half-formed intention of looking for a vase in the kitchen. Such a sweet thought, last night, for him to stop and get me roses, after everything.

Some of the roses had wilted, bruised petals scattering over the gleaming wood floor. I gathered them up, carried them into his bedroom and on impulse, slipped some of them into the pockets of his suit jacket, and went out for a final cup of coffee.

He came out into the kitchen, fully dressed, clean-shaven and fragrant.

Our cautious truce lasted all the way down to the Sunset Grill, but as I was getting out of his car, he pulled me toward him and gave me a hard, possessive kiss.

“One more thing,” he said. He pulled a smartphone out of his pocket, one of the extravagant, ridiculously expensive ones. “Take this. No arguments.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I was going to buy a fresh flip phone today anyhow. I don’t need one with all the bells and whistles, Duncan.”

“No way,” he said. “You swore a blood oath that you would not leave the restaurant until I came to get you. Remember?”

That made me laugh. “A blood oath? Really?”

“Take the phone. Don’t fight me on this. My number’s programmed in.”

I looked down to his big hand, clamped around my wrist, and realized that I could not win this fight. He would not let me go unless I gave in, and for God’s sake, why didn’t I? I was fighting just on principle. I couldn’t afford this bullshit.

I slipped his phone into my purse. “Thank you,” I said primly. “I hope I manage to use it. If I don’t answer, it’s because I can’t figure out how, so don’t take it personally.”

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