Page 2 of Dirty Husband
I bite my tongue so I won't snap.
He moves into the room, but he doesn't take a seat. He stands next to the big leather chair beside mine. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
His eyes meet mine. It's a different stare than the one he had when we were kids. That boy was sweet, loving, soft.
This man—
He's cold, angry, hurt.
God, his eyes are still so blue. So beautiful. But that coldness—
It makes my heart ache.
I try to hold his gaze. Try to think up something to say. Some small talk to convince him I'm ready for this. Whatever it is.
Nothing comes.
His gaze is too intense. I have to look away. To the clean carpet. The supple fabric of the chair. The shiny patent of his shoes.
Eventually, the door opens. The assistant—she has a name, but I can barely remember mine at the moment—steps inside. Holds up two tiny espresso cups.
"Ms. Blackstone will be here shortly." She sets both cups on the expensive oak desk. Nodsenjoy. Disappears.
She's everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Never imposing, always friendly, always smiling. Skills I recognize. Skills I mastered a long time ago.
Skills I need right now.
I take a small sip. Bright espresso. Creamy milk. A hint of softness. But not enough to dull the bitterness.
Shepard looks down at me, the tiniest hint of curiosity in his eyes.
He wants something.
I shouldn't be here. It echoes through my head again, but it's too late. My body is already buzzing. It's already screaming for him, remembering every kiss, every touch, every fuck.
I uncross and recross my legs. It does nothing to ease the ache below my belly button, but it does draw his gaze.
His eyes flit to my tan skin.
He swallows hard. Steels himself.
"I'm on my lunch." I'm not sure what he wants. Only that he's confident he'll get it. Which is ridiculous. He's the one who hurt me. Why does he think I want anything to do with him? "I don't have a lot of time."
I know why. It's money. It's always money.
All the men I work with think the world revolves around them. Because it does.
Shep's family was well-off when we were kids. But now?
Now he owns half of Manhattan.
He can destroy me with the snap of his fingers.
Of course, I'm here.
Shepard takes a seat across from me. He folds one leg over the other, making a four with his limbs. Then he leans just a little closer. Just close enough I smell his soap.
Rich. Earthy. Money.
