Page 63 of Every Silent Lie
“I’m not taking that as a compliment.”
“You should. You’re fascinating.”
I let out a light, low breath of laughter. “Stop talking, Julio, and get me my drinks.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says around a smile, pouring and setting the olives atop, then sliding them simultaneously across the bar to me. I push one in front of the stool next to me. Then I inhale, long and deep, glancing down at my phone to check the time, mentally working back to how long ago he messaged me to be here in half an hour. It was thirty-five minutes ago. Butterflies are fluttering like crazy in my tummy, and I reach down, rubbing circles to try and calm them. It’s no good. God, I’m so nervous.
What did I say in that kiss? I accept you? I accept what this is? And what is this?
Growling my frustration under my breath, I reach for my glass and pull it forward, placing the olive aside—my mouth too dry to eat it—and take a sip, fidgeting terribly. I check the time again. Check my messages.
“Waiting for someone?” Julio asks.
“He’s late.” I smile timidly. “How rude.”
“He wasn’t late.”
“Sorry?”
Julio nods past me. “He’s been there for ten minutes watching you.”
I look over my shoulder, the butterflies flapping harder when I see Dec standing in the doorway, fully suited, his coat lying over the crook of his arm with his scarf. Have I ever set eyes on such a beautiful man? “Watching me,” I murmur as he slowly strides over. “What a creep.”
Julio laughs when I face him, the sound fading as he wanders out from behind the bar to serve a young couple who’ve settled in the far corner.
“Hello,” Dec says on an intentional whisper when he makes it to me, his eyes shining, sparkling so madly, like champagne bubbles popping in a glass.
“Hello,” I breathe, enamoured. So completely enamoured. I can do this. I can be vulnerable. I can allow the bricks to tumble and let him in.
A hardly-seen smile lifts one corner of his mouth, and he dips, slipping one hand onto my nape. The closeness, the contact, sets off a bomb in my chest, as he drops a featherlike kiss on my cheek. It’s light, it’s chaste, but God help me, it’s earthmoving. I close my eyes and soak up every wonderful bit of him. He smells outrageously wonderful. His bristles pressed against my cheek force me to concentrate on taking in air. I’m rendered breathless when he pulls away.
“Two martinis?” he asks, turning the stool toward me and sitting.
I slide one closer to him. “This one’s for you.”
He can’t hide his small, satisfied smile. “Tell me about your day.”
“My day?”
He sips, eyes on me. “Yes, your day.”
“Okay,” I say, unsure. “Well, I ratted out the boss’s son.”
“Oh?”
The corners of his eyes crease as he squints in interest, silently encouraging me to go on. To talk. “He paid for first-class flights and a luxury cruise on his business card and was going to try and pass it off as a business expense.”
“Risky,” Dec muses. “And very, very stupid.”
“Agreed.”
“So how did you snitching on him go down?”
“Like a cup of puke.”
He huffs an amused puff of laughter. These smiles I’m not used to, the light bouts of laughter, they’re like preludes to the main event, a breathtaking buildup to something that could rob me of the ability to breathe completely. To hear him laugh. I want that, and it’s an odd desire for me. To want distraction by someone’s aura, their beautiful glow, rather than physical, mindless distraction. I want that too. God, I want that too. But I’m also really fucking terrified it will seal the deal on my feelings for Dec. The chemistry is potent, a constant sizzle between our bodies. Our kisses have been like nothing I’ve experienced before. Healing.
“Sounds like you’ve had a day,” he says.
