Unfortunately Yours (A Vine Mess, #2)

He smirked. “My gamble paid off.”

Those four words made one thing painfully obvious. Savage knew she’d been fired. Of course he did. News like that didn’t stay quiet in the financial sector, especially when she’d been such a visible force prior to disappearing. Tonight was the first time she’d looked anyone from the finance world in the face and had her demise addressed. It was a lot easier than she’d imagined it would be. Almost like the sting was gone. Being revered by power players was no longer the most important thing in her life. What was?

Or more specifically . . . who?

Natalie breathed through a wave of loneliness.

“Yes. It did pay off. But lately you’ve played it safe. See these men at the bar?” Briefly, she glanced over her shoulder and her stomach lurched. Morrison was there. Her ex-fiancé had just pulled out a stool for his new intended, the bartender setting cocktail napkins down in front of the pretty couple, saying something to make them both laugh.

Oh God, why hadn’t she chosen a different restaurant?

This was a typical haunt for analysts. She recognized several faces at the bar.

Natalie turned back around, praying her face wasn’t fuchsia. Keep talking. “To these men, safe equals stagnant. It makes them begin to wonder if there is a cash flow. Or nothing but dusty stacks languishing somewhere, waiting to be inherited. Is investing with me a gamble? Yes. But it’s also a signal to the sharks that you’ve got more than enough money. Money to set on fucking fire, if you want to. Maybe that’s the equivalent to investing with me. Ringing a bell that says, ‘I take risks, I know something you don’t know’? It opens more doors. It puts your name in someone’s mouth when they’re considering who to bring in on the investment of the century. It makes you fresh.”

Natalie sat back in her chair.

Familiar faces at the bar were staring. She could feel heat on her back. They were slowly noticing she was in the same establishment as her ex and his future wife. They were hoping to see fireworks. More than likely, they also knew she was there to court this man’s influence and were hoping to get a hint at the outcome. Sharks, indeed.

Had her spiel worked? It was difficult to tell. Savage no longer had his smirk, but he looked more irritable than inspired by her speech. He was wiping a corner of his mouth over and over again, unnecessarily, while considering Natalie closely. “I need a little more time to consider it,” he said finally, throwing down the napkin.

Okay. That was more promising than an outright hell no.

Where was the sense of victory? Or even hope?

Totally absent, that’s where.

She’d given the pitch her best effort. For herself. For Claudia.

Might as well admit it, though. She’d been hoping he’d say no.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand firmly. The waiter set the leather booklet containing the bill in front of her and she dropped her card on top without looking at the price, on purpose, which brought the smirk back to his face. After the receipt was signed, they both pushed back from the table and stood. “I appreciate your time, Mr.—”

“You’ll join us for a drink before you jet back to wine country, won’t you?” He raised an eyebrow while flicking a glance over her shoulder. “Unless there’s someone you want to avoid?”

Obviously, he’d seen her ex arrive. This was either a test of her mettle or he just wanted to pay Natalie back for pointing out his lack of risk taking at dinner. “If I made a habit of avoiding uncomfortable situations, I wouldn’t be here right now at all.”

He inclined his head, as if to say, Prove it.

“One drink, then,” she said, tightly, turning on her heel.

It was worse than she’d expected. Every eye in the place was fastened on her. She’d rubbed elbows with most of these analysts and portfolio managers over the years at this very place, smiling while they gloated over their client list. Attended a couple of their weddings, even. Now she was nothing but tomorrow’s gossip at the office.

Making eye contact with Morrison was inevitable and everyone was watching to see how it would happen. No matter how she handled this, they would embellish the story or recast her as scorned and jealous. But in this moment, the only person who mattered was the investor she was trying to woo. Although, God, being tested by this dude was getting exhausting. She was beginning to lose sight of why it mattered.

She also just really, really wanted to go home to August.

Swallowing the fistful of tacks in her throat, Natalie followed William the remaining distance to the bar and let her gaze drift across to where Morrison was sitting with his fiancée. Giving them a wave and smile wasn’t nearly as hard as she expected. Actually, it felt kind of good. Like closure. But that didn’t stop everyone around her from whispering. Snickering in their single malt scotch. Having yet another laugh at her expense—

The thought died in its inception when someone else walked into the bar.

August.

August?

No, her eyes had to be playing tricks on her.

How . . . ?

It . . . was really him. There was no mistaking the giant ex-SEAL for anyone else. His wide shoulders had been wrestled into a navy blue suit jacket, his hair brushed back and semi-damp, his face clean-shaven. He sucked all the unwanted attention away from Natalie like an extra-large vacuum. Men who’d been hunkered over the bar stood up straighter now, as if commanded, trying to compete with August’s height and swagger.

Dear God, the swagger.

He walked in like everyone owed him a hundred bucks, but he was too lazy to collect.

Where had he found a tailor who could craft a suit big enough to fit three normal-sized men? And there was no use pretending it didn’t make him look like sex on two thick, tireflipping legs. Head to toe, her flesh flushed and turned tight.

I’m flustered. I’m actually flustered by my husband.

Probably because the last time she’d seen him, he’d been feeding her orgasms like candy. Just popping them into her mouth like Mentos.

More, please, sir.

Wait.

Natalie shook herself. What was he doing here?

Time slowed considerably when she met August’s eyes. He’d rounded the corner of the bar, striding in that overly cocky way right in her direction, and now she was actually jealous for the first time that night. Because that suit clung to his powerful body the way she wanted to—wrapped around every inch of him, tied in a knot and worn out.

When August was a few feet away, however, something else rippled through the lust.

Joy.

Flat-out joy to see him.

That she wouldn’t have to wait to be back in St. Helena. He was here.

He should have been here all along. They should have been together.

That was what the buzzing in her head had been trying to tell her.

Natalie held her breath as her husband came to a stop right in front of her. The loud conversation in the bar area had died down to a hum. Or maybe the waves crashing in Natalie’s head were drowning out the sound? And they crashed even louder when August leaned down and kissed her cheek, his hand landing possessively on her hip. Squeezing in silent communication. I missed you. Or was she projecting?

“Excuse me for a moment, Mr. Savage,” she managed, walking them out of earshot from her potential client. The scent of grapefruit washed over Natalie and she gulped it down greedily. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, pulling him closer by the lapels of his jacket, careful to keep at least an inch between their bodies. An inch they both, very obviously, were eager to eliminate if the rushing of exhales was any indication.

“You want the truth?” He turned his nose into her hair and breathed deeply. “I’ve been through Hell Week, injuries, training that nearly killed me, giving myself stitches without so much as an Advil. And none of it, Natalie, is worse physical torture than being away from you.”

Blood rushed to her ears and started pounding. Movements around them seemed to be happening in a dream, all grainy and distant. The inch between them shrank until it no longer existed, the fronts of their bodies meeting, pressing, the rate of her heartbeat tripling. “I would have been home tomorrow.”

“That isn’t soon enough. Another hour wouldn’t have been soon enough.”

If she didn’t armor herself immediately, she was going down. RIP Natalie. “I’m still angry at you for missing the meeting. For—”

“Shutting you out. Good. You should be. I fucked up. I’ve been fucking up since the start with you.” His fist twisted in the back of her dress. “I’m sorry. I’m not making excuses, but I went to see Sam yesterday and it wasn’t the same as it usually is. I can usually pretend he’s there talking to me and this time I couldn’t. I just sort of . . . shut off.”