Page 27 of A Convenient Secret
He smirks. “I’ll send you the event details.”
It’s almost eleven when I come home. The dinner, the small talk, and a few divorcees’ advances made it a torturous night.
And for what? Okay, a few important connections, and valuable intel for Merged.
But mostly to keep Lily here longer. I think. It makes no sense. I hate when things make no sense.
I’m making nonsensical decisions. Nonsense leads to a lack of control. That’s dangerous.
By the time I step into my house, I’m practically vibrating with annoyance.
The night started all wrong. Not only because I went to the event for all futile reasons, but because I met with my lawyer just before.
A custody battle is the last thing I need at the moment.
And his suggestions to bullet-proof my case were completely unacceptable. I wish I’d never met Kendra. The thought only deepens the darkness in my mind. Without Kendra, I wouldn’t have Zoya and Zach. I can’t imagine that.
I drop my keys by the elevator door and start undoing the stupid bow tie. I can feel her presence before I even cross the living room.
Pausing at the window, I contemplate if a third whiskey tonight is a good idea. Will I pay the price tomorrow when Zoya attacks me in my bed before dawn?
After the week I had—after the day I had—I need one more. Fuck it.
Walking over to a buffet table in the dining area, I open the bottom cabinet and take out a bottle of Macallan.
I pour myself an inch and take a sip. It spreads through my limbs in the expected languid way, but it doesn’t give me the relief I seek.
I don’t know where Lily is, but I know she is here.
That’s enough to make my skin tingle, and not in the worst way. It gives my cock ideas, too. But it also makes me feel more at home than ever before. Perhapsbecause I know I can reclaim my home once she leaves. Yeah, let’s go with that logical conclusion.
“Wow, the James Bond look suits you well.”
I whip around and almost drop the glass. Lily stands across the room on the last step. Her eyes have a sleepy, glassy look, and her head is flat on one side. She is beautiful.
If this is her just-woken look, how would her just-fucked look compare? Something tells me it would be like a new potent hit. As if I wasn’t addicted enough.
“You slept.” It’s an observation—because now I need to know where she slept, pervert that I am—but it comes out as an accusation.
Narrowing her eyes, she opens her mouth, but then she sighs like a comeback is not worth the trouble. Like I’m not worth the trouble.
“I fell asleep reading with Zoya.”
We stand there in the large room, the lamp, the lights on the terrace, and the New York skyline casting shadows around us. Lily’s eyes shine so brightly, I can’t move my gaze away.
We don’t move for I don’t know how long, while I wish I was younger or she was older. While I wish I had no kids, or she would feel the same attraction. I wish for things that I can’t control, and that scares me.
“Daddy.” Zoya’s sleepy voice snaps me back to reality.
“Zoya, sweetheart, did you have a bad dream?” I cross the floor.
I put my foot on the first step, and my arm brushes Lily’s. An electric current zaps through me. It probably scorches vital gray cells in my brain because I hand her my whiskey. “I’ll be right back.”
I rush upstairs and scoop Zoya into my arms.
Why did I say that? I practically asked her to wait for me. Fuck.
I put my sleepy daughter in her bed and pick up her white, plush unicorn from the ground. “Did you lose Mr. Corny?”
