Page 52 of Lavish
I took a sip, letting the rich taste settle on my tongue.
“Cinnamon? Honey?” I finally said as the flavors sat on my tongue.
Serena nodded, but she didn’t look at me as she set her glass down. The jazz music drifted from the living room, soft and seductive, but it did little to ease the tightness in the room.
“Guess this is how dinner is gonna be every night, huh?” I joked.
“We’re two people fulfilling an obligation. Let’s not pretend it’s anything more than that.”
“But we don’t have to treat each other like you just picked me off a random curb outside. Damn, you can be chill, you know? It’s me.”
“Precisely.It’s you.” She looked away, her fingers tightening around her glass. “I think it’s better if we set the ground rules and expectations.”
“Rules, expectations, order?—”
Serena raised her voice. “It’s better to go through this?—”
“For you or for me?” I asked.
She went silent, and a puzzled look crossed her face. Frustrated, I ran a hand over my face and muttered, “Lay them on me.”
“Rule number one: No bringing up…what happened. The past.”
“What happened to the rules before? Aren’t we on fifteen by now?” I let out a short, humorless laugh, and she frowned. “The past, huh? That’s the first thing you want off the table?”
“Yes. It’s in the past for a reason, Miles. We don’t bring it up.” Her eyes flickered to mine, sharp, like a warning. “It’s not helping either of us, or our situation.”
Just forget one of the nights that changed my life? Okay.Simple.
“We can’t erase what happened, no matter what you do to sleep at night.”
Her jaw tightened. “I don’t?—”
“Don’t what?” I stepped closer still, until the heat between us was thick enough to choke on. “Don’t think about it? Don’t remember? Because I do, Serena. Our past ishere.”
She sucked in a breath.
I leaned in. “I remember how you felt that night. How you looked at me. Like you wanted me more than you wanted to be careful. Then the next night, it was like I didn’t matter.”
“We were kids,” she said, her voice softer now, but no less sharp. “It was a mistake. Grow up. Move on.”
“Hmm, how can we move on from something we never fully addressed?”
“I’m not changing my mind.”
I leaned back, crossing my arms. “And what’s rule number two?”
“Rule number two.” She frowned at me. “We keep things professional. We go to work. We come home. You live your life. I live mine. I’m not making you dinner, cleaning your clothes,vacuuming your room. Take care of yourself like the adult you have been.”
“Professional?” I echoed, the word like a stone dropping between us. “You are really focused on eliminating the past, huh? Fine,” I said, rolling my shoulders like none of it mattered. “We’ll keep it professional. Like strangers in an elevator.” I knocked back the rest of my whiskey.
She looked away, her grip on the glass tightening.
“And what’s the third rule, Serena?”
“Rule number three: No touching. No hugs or kissing. No pretending to fall in love in front of others. If it’s not for photos, we shouldn’t touch. That’ll make things easier.”
I took the bottle from her, pouring myself another glass. Whatever she needed to erase her guilty conscience, I’d let her. I didn’t regret our night. Only what happened after.
