Page 34 of Entwined
When I stepped out of the elevator hours later, ready to head to one of the nearby restaurants for dinner, I noticed Vaughn rising from a chair in the lobby. My frown deepened as he approached me, his presence both unexpected and unsettling.
“Hi,” he greeted, his voice soft yet firm.
“I told you I wasn’t ready,” I replied, barely above a whisper.
“And I told you I’d be here waiting for you when you were.”
I looked up, meeting his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making my heart skip a beat. “And what about Ashworth?”
“We’re fine. Business as usual. The CEOs can afford a vacation,” he said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
I smirked back, though my words carried a bitterness I couldn’t quite mask. “You’re CEO. I’m…nothing.”
He shook his head, his expression hardening. “I refuse to let you quit,” he growled, a fierceness in his tone that took me by surprise.
I laughed, though there was a hint of disbelief in my voice. “There was a time you didn’t want to share anything with me. A time you hated me.”
Vaughn’s hand reached up, his knuckle brushing tenderly over my cheek. The gesture was so gentle, so unexpected, that I feltmy breath hitch. “There was never a time I hated you,” he murmured, his eyes searching mine as if trying to make me believe it.
Before I could respond, Vaughn took my hand and led me out of the lobby. As we stepped outside, the flash of cameras immediately greeted us, paparazzi snapping pictures of us together. I sucked in a breath, the reality of the situation hitting me hard. It had only been seven months since Colson’s death, and any connection to a man so soon after would raise eyebrows—especially if that man was his son.
“You shouldn’t hold my hand,” I whispered, the weight of the potential scandal heavy on my mind.
“Fuck them, Joey. We’re not doing anything wrong. I care for you,” he said, his words blunt, yet sincere.
It was a stark change from the Vaughn I once knew—the man who had been so angry, so ruthless in his attempts to break me down and get me into his bed. But this Vaughn was different. He was softer, more vulnerable, and it both intrigued and terrified me.
“Excuse me if I find that hard to believe,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, though the doubt still lingered.
Vaughn didn’t reply, simply leading me down the street toward the trattoria we had agreed upon earlier. The scent of freshly baked focaccia bread and the promise of delicious cacio e pepe filled the air, but my mind was elsewhere.
As we walked side by side, the warmth of his hand in mine, I couldn’t help but wonder if this new Vaughn was real—or just another part of the game he always played.
We spent hours in the restaurant, lingering over empty plates and drained wine glasses until the staff politely chased us out. It was late, and the wine had left us both a little tipsy, the conversation flowing easily as we delved into the past. Vaughn draped his arm around my shoulder, guiding me back to the hotel. The cool night air sobered me slightly, but not enough to dull the warmth of his presence beside me.
When we reached my suite, Vaughn walked me to my door, his steps slowing as if he were reluctant to leave. I hesitated for only a moment before pulling him inside with me. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing us off from the rest of the world. I shrugged off my coat, tossing it carelessly onto a side chair as Vaughn moved toward the window, his gaze distant as he looked out at the city lights.
“Want a nightcap?” I offered, nodding toward the fully stocked bar in the corner.
Vaughn glanced back at me, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Don’t you think we’ve had enough?”
He was right, of course. But the wine had given me a rare sense of euphoria, a lightness I wasn’t ready to relinquish. I approached him, my mood shifting to a melancholy I couldn’t shake. Sliding my hands around his waist, I rested my head against his back, seeking comfort in the familiar solidity of his presence.
“Joey,” Vaughn’s voice was a soft warning, laced with concern.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I need this. I miss him so much.”
Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over as my body shook with the force of my sobs. Vaughn turned slowly, wrapping his armsaround me, pulling me against his chest. I clung to him, the flood of emotions too powerful to resist.
“You should come home,” he murmured, his hand stroking my back in soothing circles. “You need your family.”
His words struck a chord, but they also raised questions. Did he know? Did he understand the tangled history between our families? Did he know that his father had once been my mother’s lover? That my father had been Colson’s best friend before everything fell apart? The truth was twisted, layered in secrets and lies that went back years.
But in that moment, none of it seemed to matter. I clung to Vaughn, letting him ground me as the storm of my emotions began to subside. When my sobs finally quieted, he gently pushed me back, reaching into his jacket pocket for a handkerchief. He wiped away my tears with a tenderness that took me by surprise.
“I should go,” he said, his voice low, as if he didn’t really want to leave.
I reached out, grabbing his arm, desperation creeping into my voice. “Stay. Just for a little while.”
