I don’t wait for his answer. I turn blindly on my feet, leaving the man standing behind me. Every part of me begs to rush out of the gallery and put as much space as possible between us, but I force myself to slow down, each step deliberate and assured, showing him that he didn’t get to me.
“Wait, that’s the—” he adds, but I ignore him. Turns out to be a mistake because I find myself in some room rather than nearer to the exit door. Seriously? Seriously? I’m not prone to tantrums, but I’m very close to stamping my feet on the floor.
Blushing angrily, my hands in fists, I walk back only to find him standing languidly in the same spot where I left him. His eyes dance with mirth. “Made the wrong turn?”
“Go to hell.”
The last thing I hear is his laughter.
The next day …
AFTER A MORNING RUN, I stop outside the building to catch my breath. Sweat drips down my forehead and every muscle in my body burns, but I’m feeling good. I’m bent over at the waist with my hands on my knees when a couple bumps into me. They utter a quick, indifferent apology in French without glancing my way and disappear in the building. Great, I guess I just met a neighbor.
Sighing, I shake my head and follow suit. I check myself when I notice the same couple waiting for the elevator in the lobby. They’re too occupied with one another to notice they’re no longer alone. I can’t see his face from this angle. Only hers. He pushes her back against the wall as the woman laughs throatily. Her laughter disappears as he begins to lazily kiss her while she holds onto his shoulders for support.
Unimpressed and beyond uncomfortable by their lack of tact, I put as much space between us as possible, and press the up button repeatedly. To distract myself, I stare at the marble floor and methodically count its black and white tiles.
Not that it works.
I can still hear the woman moaning softly between kisses as he whispers tantalizing words in her ear. I don’t understand, but there’s no need. Pleasure and maddening carnal desire vibrate through every syllable he utters, hypnotizing her. The thought of what he could be saying makes my cheeks grow warm.
I try not to look their way but curiosity, tempting as always, wins in the end. The couple is lost in their heated embrace, unaware of their surroundings. His face buried in her neck, my eyes focus on her hand, following its every move as she palms the outline of his back. The eroticism of it all hits me like a drug. A potent high. I want to look away, but I can’t. William doesn’t believe in public displays of affection such as this. He finds them distasteful and beneath himself and his name. He would never touch me like that outside the privacy of our bedroom, and I don’t think I’d let him.
But part of me is fascinated. Captivated by the indecent scene unfolding in front of my eyes. And for a moment, I’m jealous of this man and woman who can easily give their middle finger to convention and the rules of etiquette in the name of lust and desire. Once upon a time, I didn’t care what people thought of me. Freedom felt too good to give a shit. But that was many years and lifetimes ago. My errant mind drifts to last night, the indecent stranger, the damn kiss, and everything it made me feel, but I angrily shove those thoughts out of my head. Wishing I could exorcise the experience from my memory completely.
Trance-like, I accidentally drop my phone, and the sound of it landing on the tile floor catches the stranger’s attention. At once he stops kissing her and looks in my direction. Surprise registers in his face. This cannot be happening, I think to myself. This cannot be happening to me. The ground beneath my feet shakes. I wish myself buried six feet under. Or back in the safety of my home in Greenwich. Because the eyes of the devil—the same vivid blue eyes I wished to never see again—are staring right into mine.
He lets go of the woman, runs his fingers through his raven hair, his movements easy and careless yet assured, and walks towards me. As he closes the short distance between us, I remain frozen like a statue. He bends down to pick up my forgotten phone and hands it back to me. An insolent half smile pulls the left corner of his mouth.
“Looks like fate has a macabre sense of humor.”
“Thank you,” I reply coolly, trying to hide the chaos raging inside me as we stare at each other. I reach for my phone, making sure not to touch him. “And yes, it appears that way.”
His gaze on me feels as though he’s undressing me with his eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he says softly, his words like a caress.
“Sébastien … mon amour,” the attractive woman says, drawing his attention to her.
The elevator arrives. By the time the doors open, I’m grateful for the brief escape it offers. I step in, cross my arms, and proceed to focus all of my attention on the buttons, studying them as though they are the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen. And when they join me inside, I pretend they don’t exist, yet I am keenly aware of him, of every move he makes, and his smell—like a forest in winter. Clean, crisp, woodsy.
Upon reaching my floor, I step out of the elevator as calmly as possible even though I feel like a pack of wolves is hot on my heels. I try not to look back, but I’m unable to stop myself from stealing one last glance of him—the biggest and most threatening wolf of all. It turns out to be a mistake. I find him staring back, appearing like he’s ready to have me for his meal. He watches my face unabashedly. Taunting me. Inviting me. Reminding me of what happened between us.
“See you around, neighbor,” he says, his words a promise. He smiles roguishly as he reaches for the girl’s hand and places a kiss on her open palm that goes straight to my core.
Like a coward, I want to look away, but I won’t let him see how deeply under my skin he’s gotten.
“Don’t count on it,” I say, raising my chin and holding his gaze as the elevator doors close in front of us.
Later that day …
Numb on the inside, I stare at the cream-colored tiles in front of me. “So you’re not coming anymore?” I ask hollowly, gripping the phone tighter as I turn the stove off. The meat sauce bubbling in the large metal pot, William’s favorite, is forgotten.
“What happened?” I step away from the kitchen, suddenly feeling sick by the smell of oregano and tomatoes.
“Larry needs me here, darling. A lot of money is on the line with this acquisition.”
“What about your meetings here?”
“They’ve been moved to later in the year.”