“Thank you, Munchkin.”
She and Xavier went back to the dining room, and Cyrus left his mother’s house. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t feel any better when Katie called him. Reason being, he’d tasted heaven. Now anything else felt like hell.
Chapter Twenty-two
Cyrus pulled up in front of the Four Seasons Hotel and stepped out of his car. He handed the keys to the valet. It was almost ten o’clock at night and he’d left work fifteen minutes before. Entering the empty suite he now called home didn’t appeal to him, but he couldn’t stay at work forever.
Briefcase in hand, he flung his jacket over his shoulder and had strolled halfway through the foyer to the bank of elevators when he saw Daniella walking toward him. His steps slowed, but his heart started racing.
“Hi, Cyrus,” she said.
His gaze traveled over her from head to toe. A chocolate pencil skirt fit snug over her hips and a silk blouse in a lighter brown flattered her full bosom. Her long hair hung in loose, ebony waves over her shoulder and down her back. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Can I talk to you?” She looked discomforted, as if she was nervous.
“Do you need something?” His eyes searched her face. He would give her whatever she needed. He hoped she at least knew that.
“I need to talk to you,” she replied.
“How long have you been waiting here?” he asked.
“Not long. I figured you’d be working late.” Her smile was timid. “Do you mind if I come up?”
He almost said no, because he couldn’t tolerate having her presence in his new sanctuary. At least there only his thoughts tormented him, but if Daniella came upstairs, he’d have the memory of seeing her in this new space, too.
His own selfish urges won out.
“Sure, you can come up,” he said with a curt nod.
Neither of them spoke all the way up to the tenth floor. They stood at opposite ends of the elevator, the way strangers do. At the presidential suite, he opened the door and let her enter first, using the opportunity to assess the way the material of her skirt stretched over her plump little ass. She smelled good, too, and he wanted to lean closer and gratify his senses with the scent of her. The light in the entryway illuminated her hair, giving it the appearance of smooth silk. He wanted to sift his fingers through the lush strands and experience their softness again, but he fought the urge.
In the living room he set down his briefcase and tossed his jacket over the back of the sofa.
She stood awkwardly in the center of the room. “This is nice.”
Earth tones dominated the room’s decorations, and in the living room, dining room, and bedroom he had great views of Elliott Bay through the floor to ceiling windows.
“It’s fine, and big enough to suit my purposes.” This was what they’d devolved to—inane pleasantries about his living arrangements. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I don’t know how to say this.” Daniella wrung her hands together. Now that she was here, she was a nervous wreck to tell Cyrus her news. She stared down at her shoes, summoning the courage to say the words she’d practiced all day. She finally looked up at him. “I’m pregnant.”
No movement from him, no reaction at all. He stared at her as if he was disoriented. She understood the feeling. She’d been shocked herself when the doctor told her. Once the initial surprise wore off, she’d recognized the opportunity her pregnancy presented. It was a chance to start a family with the man she loved, and an ace in the hole she’d been waiting for to orchestrate a reconciliation between them.
“Did you hear me?” she asked.
His gaze fell to her waistline. Then there was the smallest of movements—a twitch right above his eyebrow before he abruptly turned away as if he could no longer bear to look her. His shoulders became as taut and rigid as wooden planks.