Page 77 of Heated
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too, Zora. I love your name. And your earrings. Ranjana Khan, right?” She refers to my dangling freshwater-pearl earrings. Before I have a chance to confirm or deny—and I would confirm—she half turns, waving toward the dining room behind her. “I have to admit, we—most of the other wives—are curious about you. They’re just too uppity to ask. As if they’re above a little gossip.” She snickers, her eyes gleaming with humor. “Fortunately, I am not.”
Okay, I’m kind of liking her. Her douche husband notwithstanding. I’m a little surprised she’s so chatty considering Derrick didn’t let her do a lot of talking. At dinner, he tended to speak over her often, even when someone asked her a direct question. Like I said, a douche.
I laugh because she’s not only gorgeous and married to an ass—and I feel sorry for her—but she seems nice. Still, I’m not an idiot. Proceed with caution.
“We’re all dying to know. How did you and Cyrus meet? I don’t mind telling you several of us tried our hand at matchmaking for a long time before he started dating Val. Now, she’s gone, and he’s immediately started dating you. Which, can I say—as I’ve spent exactly one hour in your company—is a vast improvement? So we want all the details of how you two came to be a couple.”
Cyrus had prepared me for this question, and we’d come up with a story, but it doesn’t ease my nerves telling it. Adding yet another lie.
I’m sitting on a mountain of them by now. And I have the tiara to go along with it.
“At a restaurant. I was in the middle of a horrible date, and he intervened, saving me. We ended up having dinner, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
Stick as close as possible to the truth; that way we have fewer details to remember.
“Chivalry is not dead.” She sighs. “I can so imagine Cyrus doing something like that. He’s such a nice, honorable guy.” Jill glances behind her, then edges closer. “Can I be honest? I don’t know if you’ve met his ex or if he’s told you much about her, but he deserved better. I have no clue if you two will go the distance, but today and tonight, he’s smiled more, talked more, relaxed more than I’ve seen him since he joined the firm. And I can only attribute that to you. Cheers to you, Zora.”
She holds up her own glass of wine and taps it to mine, a warm smile curving her lips. Shock whistles through me, and so does something much more fragile and treacherous. I refuse to even name that fledgling and utterly foolish emotion.
“Thank you, Jill. Cyrus does deserve the best. He’s a good man.” I pause, not sure if I should say anything else, but after a moment, Icontinue. The truth is in another two months, I won’t be here, but she will be. “I’m glad he has you and the other wives looking out for him.”
Jill beams, and she reaches out, clasps my hand, and squeezes.
“Always. He can’t get rid of us. Even though sometimes I think he wishes he could.”
Wow. Does Cyrus realize how many people care about him? For some reason, I got the sense he was a bit of a loner, but these women look out for him, are concerned for him. He’s not alone.
A fist of emotion grips my throat, and I have the inane urge to go hunt Cyrus down, throw my arms around him, and bury my face against his chest. Then beg him to take me back to our minihouse and make love to me.
I mean fuck me. Take me back to our minihouse and fuck me.
Damn. That’s one hell of a Freudian slip.
Good Lord, where is my head today?
“Jill, are you out here pumping Zora for information?”
Jill spins around as Cyrus steps out onto the balcony, a half smile curling his mouth.
“Of course I am,” she unashamedly boasts, gliding up to him and hooking her arm through his. Rising up on the toes of her stilettoes, she smacks a kiss to his cheek. “And she so graciously let me.” Crinkling a couple of fingers at me, she says, “It was wonderful talking to you, Zora.”
Cyrus looks at me, lifting his beer after Jill blows him a teasing kiss and then walks away, probably to deliver the gossip about me and Cyrus’s serendipitous meeting. The sight of that beer has satisfaction stirring in my belly. No fancy Glenlivet or fifty-year Scotch for him just because he’s around the law firm partners. It’s an IPA for him.
“Did someone have a mild heart attack when you asked for that beer?”
He snorts. “They had to do a little treasure hunt, but they came up with it.” He cocks his head, studying me. “You okay?”
I don’t need to ask him what he’s referring to, and I nod. “Fine. Jill’s nice. What’s she doing with a guy like her husband?”
He laughs, but it’s hard, abrupt. “Damn if I know. They’re complete opposites in every way that counts. Though both she and Derrick are from old money, she is a sweet, considerate, generous woman.” He moves past me and props his forearms on the balcony. “Derrick joined the firm a year before I did, and from the first he pinpointed me as his rival. Yes, he competes against the other associates—we all do—but with me, it’s almost personal. It’s definitely vicious. And on several occasions, underhanded.”
“But ... why?” I settle next to him, leaning my hip to the wall. “Other than being an adult bully. And from what I’ve seen tonight, he’s the same way with his wife. And having to be the main attraction in the room.”
“I’m not sure. I tried to get along with him like I did everyone. And at first, I thought we were fine, thought he was a good, professional attorney like most of the associates I work with. But then he poached one of my clients. Smiled in my face and then turned around and lied to it. One thing I can’t abide is a liar and a thief. And to me, they’re one and the same.”
Dozens of spider legs creep up and down my spine, contributing to the ill swish of bile in my belly. I glance away from him, from that perfect profile, and train my unfocused gaze on the dining room, where people still congregate in small groups, chatting and laughing.
