“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything,” she says, back-stepping.
I pick up the menu, mind still on Declan, while Jacqueline and Marcia fall back into whatever conversation they were having before I returned. We spend the rest of our lunch in idle chitchat, and then Jacqueline goes on her usual rants about our other so-called friends. I sit, playing along, nodding my head to feign my interest in what’s being said.
After the bill is paid, we exchange cheek kisses before leaving. Baldwin is parked out front, waiting on me, and when he opens the car door, he asks, “Good lunch?”
“Lovely,” I respond sarcastically, and when he gets into the front seat, he looks at me through the rearview mirror with a pondering look that I have to smile at and then admit, “Okay, maybe lovely isn’t the right word.”
He laughs and pulls out into traffic.
“I need to stop by Lotus before we go home. Seems my signature is needed on a few invoices and I want to see that the room is set up properly.”
“Of course.”
Pulling up to the hotel, I get out of the car and walk in, heading straight back to Declan’s office. He sits behind his desk, and when I step in, he stands up, saying, “Close the door.”
I do.
He strides right up to me, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me, never breaking his fluid movements. Slipping my arms around him, I kiss him back. Excitement rushes through me, or maybe it’s the adrenaline of finally knowing this is happening. The plan that Pike and I set out to accomplish over four years ago. All this time, and finally, it’s happening. I want to throw myself at Declan, but I have to be smart, remember the game, and not lose focus of what I need to do. So I control the endorphins and pull away.
“What is it?” he questions.
“I’m just . . .”
“Just what?”
Taking a moment, I respond, “Scared.”
“Of me?”
I shake my head with his hands still on my face, holding me.
“Of this?”
“Yes.” With a drop of my head, I lay my forehead against his chest, adding, “I’m married. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You’re married, yes. But are you happy?”
Looking up into his eyes, I say, “I’m not sure what I am. All I know is that this feels good. You feel good.”
The intensity in his eyes reveals the pleasure he’s taking in my candid words, and I take advantage when I slip my hand around the back of his neck and pull his lips down to mine, showing him that it’s him I want—because truth be told, he is what I want, what I need.
“Come see me,” he says when we break our connection.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“I can’t. I have a dinner,” I tell him.
“I want you to come see me.”
Taking a step back, out of his hold, I hesitate, saying, “I don’t know.”
His jaw twitches in what I can assume is frustration or anger. “Don’t waver, Nina.”
“That’s so easy for you to say, isn’t it?” I nearly snap. “Because you’re not the one who is about to fall into a situation that will turn you into a person who acts in Machiavellian schemes. I am.”
“I am too. I know what I want. And even if it comes with the manipulation right now, I still want it.”
“I don’t know,” I say in a heavy sigh. “I’m not that kind of person, Declan. I’m faithful and good. This—kissing you—it’s already hurting me. But . . .”
“Say it,” he demands.
“But it’s already filling something in me I didn’t know was even empty until you. I just . . . I just need a little time to think about this.”
“I’m not a patient man, Nina.”
“I know. But please, just . . .”
He steps to me, gripping my arms tightly in his hands, and says, “We both know what you want here. You’re lying to yourself right now if you say it’s Bennett or else you wouldn’t have come here.”
“Stop.”
“No.”
Tugging my arms away, his grip tightens and I see the beginnings of a smirk.
“Declan, stop. Let go.”
“No,” he says in a hardened voice. “I don’t play games, and this is you, playing with me.”
“I’m not playing, Declan. This isn’t a game; this is my life, a life I’ve made with my husband, and right now, I’m really confused. Just let me think,” I tell him.
His hands let go of me and he walks to the door, opening it. I watch him, trying to read past his glare as he states, “Then go think,” before he silently dismisses me from the room.
I don’t worry too much about the fact that I just pissed him off. All is fair in love and war, right? So I straighten myself and walk to the door, stopping to look at him with soft eyes, and then leave. This will never work properly if I go to him; he needs to come to me. So I’ll make him jealous. I’ll make him attack.
RETURNING HOME FROM running a few last minute errands before the party tonight, I hear the annoying chuckle of Richard, Bennett’s business partner, coming from the office. I toss my shopping bags on the dining room table before heading into the kitchen.
“Honey, is that you?” Bennett calls out from across the house.