Page 76 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
The words remained at the forefront of my mind as we finished lunch. My mother packed leftovers for me to take home, as my father insisted on rolling out to my car to check my tires.
“Promise me something,”he said as I loaded the containers into my backseat.
“What?”
“Promise me you won’t let Gerald’s weakness make you think all men are weak. There are men out there who know how to love a strong woman. Don’t close yourself off to that opportunity.”
“Daddy—”
“I’m serious, Naomi. Your mother and I worry that Gerald broke something in you that might not heal on its own.”
“I’m fine, Daddy.”
“No, you’re surviving. There’s a difference.”He reached up to take my hand. “Surviving is important, but living is better. Promise me you’ll remember that.”
I knelt beside his wheelchair, bringing myself to his eye level. “I promise.”
He pulled me into one of his bear hugs, and I relaxed in the safety of his grip. “I love you, baby girl. More than you’ll ever know.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
My mother appeared beside us, wrapping both of us in her arms. For a moment, we stayed like that, and all was well with the world.
“Drive safe,”my mother said, kissing my cheek. “And call us if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“I will.”
I drove home with their love wrapping around me like a blanket. Gerald had tried to make their kindness another avenue for his manipulation. But my parents saw right through him, just like they’d always been able to see through the surface of things to the truth underneath.
The truth was, I wasn’t just surviving anymore. Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, I’d started living again. And maybe Iwasready to let someone choose me back.
Chapter
Sixteen
CHRISTIAN
It had beentwo weeks since the trip to Tuscany, and I was counting down the minutes until I saw her again.
I stood in the grand ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton, nursing a glass of Brandy and watching St. Louis’s elite network over canapés and champagne. The Children’s Hospital benefit was always well-attended, and in high-society being seen mattered as much as the cause itself. I’d written my check, made small talk with the hospital board, and now I was counting the minutes until I could politely escape. Not because I didn’t care about the charity, but because it was Saturday, one of our nights, and I was looking forward to getting to her.
The ballroom was decorated in autumn elegance, with deep maroon and gold accents, and centerpieces of orange roses and twisted branches. The soft lighting made everyone look ten years younger and twice as important. A jazz quartet played in the corner, their music an addition to the hum of conversation and the gentle clink of crystal glasses.
I was half-listening to a discussion about healthcare policy when I saw her.
Naomi walked through the entrance like she owned the place. The black gown she wore was a masterpiece of understated elegance, strapless, fitted against her torso before flowing into a silky skirt. Her hair was pulled back in a sophisticated updo that showed off the graceful line of her neck, and diamond earrings sparkled every time she turned her head.
She was stunning. Breathtakingly so. And I wondered what she was doing here when I remembered her telling me she was unavailable for this evening. The pieces fell together in an instant. She had business to attend to, or maybe it wasn’t. Naomi and I held no titles so this could very well be a personal evening for her and the thought of that made my gut clench.
She laughed at something the man beside her had said.
Nathan Bullard. I recognized him immediately with his silver hair, expensive suit, a confident smile. He was also one of my biggest competitors in the sports law arena, the bastard who’d tried to poach three of my clients last year.
That, however, wasn’t what made jealousy spin inside me. It was the way Naomi’s hand rested on his arm, how she leaned in when he spoke, and the intimate bubble they seemed to exist in as they moved through the crowd. This seemed less like the professional distance one would expect under a client arrangement. This was... more. Or maybe it was me.
I watched Nathan guide her to the bar, his hand settling possessively on the small of her back. I watched her smile up at him as he ordered their drinks, her expression soft and engaged. I watched him lean down to whisper something in her ear that made her laugh again, and even across the room her melodic voice tantalized me.
Then, Nathan reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. It was intimate, alluring, and just by the look of them you’d think they were in love.
