Tarian.
Later…
“Holy shit!” Damon exclaims, mouth mid chew as we eat lunch at our favorite restaurant.
Turkey sub in hand, crumbs at the corner of his mouth, eyes wide like he’s just been handed the winning lottery ticket.
I smile, still a little winded myself, and sip my soda to buy time.
“Murieann Amran offered you a tour of her pearl farm on her Nantucket estate?” He goes on, practically vibrating.
“That place is a gold mine worth billions.
A property the world has been dying to see from the inside and now you get a private tour from her majesty herself?”
He beams, genuinely thrilled for me.
His enthusiasm helps, even if it doesn’t quiet the tight coil of nerves in my chest.
The events of earlier today rush back in a blur I can’t seem to outrun.
The way she burst into the boardroom like a storm with purpose.
The way the air shifted and bent around her.
How seasoned men who never bow, leaned towards her, without realizing they were doing it.
How I leaned towards her.
The way Murieann commanded the room.
Claimed it.
Claimed me.
My cock tightens at the memory, uninvited and unapologetic.
That deep V of her jacket.
The glimpse of her skin.
The kiss tattoo of red, full lips inked perfectly in the valley between her breasts.
I hadn’t really seen her tattoo until we shook hands.
Until I stood close enough to breathe her in.
“I’ll have arrangements made for you to be flown over,” she’d said smoothly, our hands still locked.
“No need.” I’d countered, voice low, quiet and controlled.
Her eyes widened, just a fraction, before she mastered herself again.
“I’ve got my jet.
Just send me the time and location.
I’ll meet you when we arrive.” I told her.
She studied me then.
Silent and Measuring.
“Alright.” She finally nodded.
“I’ll have Lar send the details as soon as I step out.”
That smile, slow, sultry, had nearly undone me.
I’d barely restrained myself from leaning closer, from breathing her in properly.
She smelled like spice and heat.
Cinnamon, vanilla.
Flowers and fruit and water.
Clean and dangerous and alive.
“I hope you like games, Mr.
Sawyer,” she’d said over her shoulder as she walked away.
“Games?” I echoed.
“Depends.
What do you have in mind?”
She stopped.
I let my gaze drag, lazily and deliberately over the curve of her hips, the perfect, peach shaped ass filling out that tailored pant suit she wore. Read this novel at NovelPing for the best experience.
When she half turned back to me, my eyes finally climbed to her face.
“Russian roulette,” she said calmly.
“We’ll play after dinner.”
“Dinner?” The word surprised me.
She turned fully, chuckling.
“Yes, dinner.
You said you wanted to have dinner with me.
So we’ll have it at my property in Nantucket.”
She closed the distance then, stopping just a few feet away.
I knew what that meant.
A stay overnight.
Wednesday gone.
“That means I won’t be returning to work that day,” I said, stepping closer myself, narrowing the gap between us.
“Yes,” she replied smoothly, eyes skimming over me like she already owned the answer.
“You run the place.
You decide when you come in or don’t.”
My mind had flashed to Viola.
To the way her face would tighten.
To the storm that would follow if she learned I’d spent the night in Nantucket with another woman, business or not.
“Or is your wife going to get mad if you have dinner with me?” Murieann had mocked softly.
“A game of Russian roulette after dinner, then.” I drawled, matching her tone.
Her low chuckle followed me as she finally walked away.
Now, sitting across from Damian, the weight of it all settles deeper.
How the hell do I explain this to Viola without her tearing the roof off the house with jealousy and fear?
“Are you going with my sister?” Damon finally asks.
There it is.
I look up from my plate.
He’s watching me carefully now.
Cool on the surface, but I know that look.
Beneath it is a brother, protective and wary.
“No,” I say evenly.
“It’s just me.”
Disappointment flickers across his face, quick but unmistakable.
It cracks something in my chest.
Still, it doesn’t change the truth.
“She didn’t ask me to bring Viola,” I add, though I don’t know why.
“She asked for me.”
The words don’t soften anything.
They only underline how far gone Viola and I really are.
***
Night.
Home at last.
My body aches in all the wrong places.
Muscles screaming.
Joints stiff.
I need a massage.
Or to be unconscious for a few hours.
I drag myself up the stairs, each step a quiet groan.
After lunch, I’d gone straight to the fishing sites.
Work that grounds me usually.
But today, my mind kept circling back to Damian’s face.
The disappointment there.
The insult he didn’t voice.
Viola and I ended long before we ever truly began.
All that’s left now are sharp memories and sharper silences.
“I should shoot you where you stand.”
Viola’s voice stops me cold.
I turn on the stair landing.
She’s there, face twisted with pain.
Tears streaking down her cheeks.
There’s no gun, we don’t own one, but I don’t call her bluff.
“You should,” I mutter quietly, lifting my hands in surrender.
“Go ahead.”
She glares at me through wet lashes.
“You’re going to Nantucket to see one of your whores.”
My mind jumps instantly to Damon.
He told her.
I expected it.
Still, something tightens in my chest not anger.
Just disappointment.
“Damon shouldn’t have told you.”
“Why?!” She screams.
“Because you were afraid I’d ruin your beautiful night together?”
“No,” I say calmly.
“Because it’s a business meeting with Murieann Amran.
She’s not my whore.
I don’t have whores.
And she’s far from one.”
Unbidden, my mind conjures Murieann again, poised, commanding.
My crotch tightens painfully.
“She’s a businesswoman,” I continue.
“And she’s reputable…”
“Bullshit, Tarian!” Viola shrieks.
“You have no shame.
You’re defending her to your wife.”
“My wife should know there’s nothing between us anymore.” I snap.
She gasps.
“I’ve told you over and over, give me a divorce.
I’ll sign whatever you need.
But stop forcing us to live this lie.
End it.”
Her lips tremble.
Then she steps closer, until we’re a breath apart.
“Now that I know her name,” she says softly, dangerously, “I’ll never give you a divorce.”
Her eyes harden.
“It’ll be over my dead body before you love that woman in peace.
Mark my words.”
She turns and storms into her room, the door slamming so hard the walls shudder.
I stand there, alone on the stairs, heart pounding, hurt, furious, and pulled deeper into a game I didn’t realize I’d already agreed to play.