12. Twelve
Twelve
DYLAN
“ S o, let me get this straight," Taylor said, with one perfectly threaded eyebrow cocked. "You’re working with your ex, you’re both in relationships, but he almost kissed you today?”
“You’ve managed to boil a complex situation down to its simplest form, but yes.”
Taylor picked at her manicured nails. “You are so royally fucked.”
I groaned in agreement and sank deep into my chair, waiting for the afternoon session of the conference to begin. I closed my eyes in an effort to clear my mind from my hot mess of a life, when I felt my phone buzz with an incoming text.
Taylor’s prying eyes glanced into my lap where my phone laid. “Is that him?”
I looked at my phone and shook my head.
“My boss," I replied, reading the message. "Asking if I can join her for dinner with the Omega team tonight.”
“Ex-lover boy might be there,” Taylor whispered, making a vulgar gesture with her hand. She was still giggling when the lights dimmed and the keynote speaker was welcomed onto the stage.
I didn’t hear anything the speaker said, nor did I care. Even though I was physically present, mentally I was back in Brax's car, holding his hand. The gravitational pull was so strong between us, I didn't know how we were going to keep this strictly professional.
Every time I thought about him, I felt a need. An urge. To touch him. To kiss him. To have him. All of him. Over and over again until death.
What’s that saying? If you love someone, let them go, and if they come back to you, you know they're yours?
Or some shit like that anyway.
Deep down though, I knew the truth: I’d never gotten over him.
I tried to not think about the feeling of him between my legs, but my thoughts diverted there anyway. I thought ruffling my fingers through his luscious, black hair as he knelt for me.
Teasing me.
Tasting me.
I rubbed my thighs together and silently cursed my filthy mind for making my body feel so turned on during a goddamn work conference. I shouldn’t have been having those thoughts about another man. Yet I couldn’t stop them.
I agonized over the fact that we were both in relationships.
But people have affairs all the time. Especially when they're unhappy.
My thought patterns were frayed. I wasn't thinking straight. Or at all. I was searching for reasons to justify being unfaithful. My concern for Zack’s feelings were outweighed by mine.
And the fact it was wrong wasn't going to be enough to stop me.
***
“I heard you made quite an impression today,” Marie said, linking arms with me as we walked into the riverside steakhouse for dinner. “Hopefully this is the beginning of what’s to be a long-term relationship between Omega and Gellar and Summers."
Marie’s energy radiated off her, turning heads as we entered through the front doors. She looked incredible, dressed in a red power suit, with lips to match and her short blonde hair clipped into a straight bob.
The restaurant manager greeted us warmly. “Welcome, do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, reservation under Omega, or Greg Fowler?”
“Certainly, follow me please.”
We were ushered into a private dining room, obscured from the view of regular diners.
Inside was a large round table, a lazy susan in the center, with seven chairs and a show-stopping chandelier. Dark, moody lighting highlighted an incredible wine cellar wall.
But the striking centerpiece of the room wasn't the chandelier; it was my six-foot-three ex-boyfriend.
Steven was also already there, as was Greg, who immediately stood to welcome us.
“Marie, it’s wonderful to see you again,” said Greg, greeting her with a short hug and kiss on the cheek. “This is my wife Laura, my CFO Michael and lead builder, Brax."
“Pleasure to meet you all,” Marie replied, before making reference to Steven and I. “I believe you’re already acquainted with Dylan and Steven from our team.”
I turned my attention to Brax and gave him a small hug as a way of greeting. He smelt like a winter's night, like sandalwood and flame. I thought about what it would be like to nestle my face into the crook of his neck.
“Hi,” he said, leaning into me, returning the hug. His lips grazed my earlobe as he said quietly enough that no one else could hear, “You look stunning.”
His hands lingered at my waist and his gaze dropped to my body.
I was wearing a skin tight, long sleeved leopard print dress that sat at my mid-thigh, with white pumps. My long black hair was braided, with the plait resting over my right shoulder.
Smiling, I shrugged like it was no big deal.
Except it definitely was a big deal.
I dressed for him.
I sure as shit didn’t dress like that for Steven, the creep. As if on cue, Steven said, “Looking wild as ever tonight, Dylan.”
Marie and Brax both gave Steven a frosty stare at his ballsy comment. I looked over at Steven as well. All eyes were on this motherfucker.
“Steven, your puns are getting worse the older you get,” Marie snapped, embarrassing Steven with her quip and making the entire table laugh at Steven's expense.
Brax pulled out a chair for me and gestured for me to sit down in between him and Marie. Seated next to Brax was Steven, then Michael, Laura and Greg, who was seated on Marie’s other side.
I prayed Steven wouldn't pepper Brax with questions about our past. I didn't want Brax to feel like he had to lie for me; but I also didn't want him to tell Steven the truth either.
Our waiter arrived. “Can I take drink orders to start with?”
“Is everybody happy if I order a couple bottles of wine for the table?” asked Greg. Everyone agreed that was the best way to go considering there were seven of us.
Marie, Greg and Laura instantly locked into a discussion amongst themselves, while Steven spoke with Michael about wine preferences.
Brax took the opportunity to have me to himself.
“How was your afternoon at the conference?”
“Fine,” I replied, neglecting to tell him that I spent the majority of that time imagining him between my legs. “What did you do this afternoon?”
“I got a workout in, then did some admin," he said. "I only found out about this dinner a few hours ago.”
The thought of Brax lifting weights and sweating did something unspeakable to me. I cleared my throat, attempting to recalibrate my brain from going there—again.
God, the sight of him made me weak.
Why did he always look so fuckable?
I clenched my thighs together. “Same.”
His voice dropped low. “I normally hate this wining and dining bullshit,” he squeezed my leg under the table briefly. “I only came because I knew you’d be coming.”
“I haven’t.”
Making sex jokes out loud was a new low, even for me.
Brax grinned at me like the sinner that he was. “Not yet.”
The waiter arrived with a bottle of wine and leaned in between Brax and I, tearing the sexual tension between us in half.
I stared at the liquid pouring from the bottle into my glass and wondered how loose-lipped I would get with all of this premium alcohol.
“Greg, we’re so pleased you love the vision for Studio Pase," Marie started.
“We were blown away by the interior design, credit to Dylan for that," Greg offered. "Not many interior designers impress me with their first round of renders. Dylan’s the exception.”
Marie raised her glass. “Well, cheers to a successful project.”
“One that’s completed on time,” Greg said quickly.
“And on budget!” Michael chimed in.
It wasn’t exactly funny, but I smiled to be polite. I hated these type of schmoozing events. It was all fake, driven by money and the need to prove to the company you're their little bitch who'll do anything for the client relationship.
Brax leaned into me and whispered, “Typical Chief Financial Officer. Number crunching, motherfucker.”
I stifled my laugh. He hated these kinds of people just as much as I did.
***
Mains had been cleared away and the dessert wine was served. Time flew as quickly as the drinks were being poured.
I had no idea how many glasses of wine I’d had. The waiter kept my glass full making it impossible to know. I needed to slow down, I felt drunk.
I turned to Brax. “Do I look drunk?”
He studied my face. “Trashed."
I playfully poked his leg under the table.
"Actually, you look…” His voice trailed off as he hesitated.
I raised my eyebrows. “Uh, hello? Are you going to finish that sentence or am I expected to read your mind?”
The playfulness slid from his face, replaced by a hardened stare. “You look beautiful.”
I dropped my eyes into my lap and shifted the bracelet on my wrist. I couldn't risk saying anything back in case someone picked up on whatever was stirring between Brax and I.
Was Steven listening? Not that it mattered, but I’d rather not be the subject of workplace rumors.
I turned my attention to Greg, who was talking to Marie about Brax.
“Brax has been directly involved in Omega’s last five major developments. There is no one I trust more, especially with luxury builds,” Greg said, proudly. “I just need to convince him to move to the city. Flying him in and out is costing me a fortune!”
Brax laughed softly and raised his glass. “The city is too chaotic for me, but thanks for the rave reviews."
The mutual respect between Brax and Greg was strong. That much was obvious.
“Dylan, how long have you been working at Gellar and Summers?” Laura asked.
She seemed sweet and fun, late fifties, early sixties maybe. Hard to tell her exact age as she clearly enjoyed regular beauty appointments.
"About three and a half years.”
“Laura, I plucked Dylan from the talons of London,” Marie interjected, in a motherly, humorous and slightly drunk way.
Greg leaned towards me. “Did Marie make you an offer you couldn’t refuse?”
“Something like that.” I replied coyly.
The answer was yes, the offer was hefty, but I wasn’t about to let Steven learn that I likely earned a much higher signing bonus than he ever did.
“I just love the UK. How did you enjoy your time in London?” Laura asked.
“I loved it,” I replied, smiling as I recalled all the fond memories from my time there. “I had a placement at an architectural firm for twelve months. I learned so much, but I traveled extensively too.”
A glimmer of mischief danced in Laura's eyes. “Were you single?”
“Laura!” Greg looked shocked at his wife's personal question.
“Oh hush honey—we’ve all had a few drinks. Let me live vicariously through Dylan,” Laura snapped at Greg, before lovingly draping an arm around his chair. "Go on darling, do tell.”
“Yes, I was single.”
“Somebody as striking as you must have had fun with those gorgeous European men!”
Greg rolled his eyes playfully. “You’ll have to excuse her Dylan, Laura’s a romantic.”
While I definitely did have fun with a few European men, there was just one man that was never far from my mind.
And he was sitting right next to me.
“Well, Laura, sorry to disappoint you but you won’t hear many romantic tales from me. I spent the first few months in London heartbroken and miserable,” I blurted. The sudden turn of tone initiated a hush over the dining table. “I left the love of my life back home.”
Brax stiffened in his chair.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a heart-fluttering mix of surprise, confusion and satisfaction written all over his face.
Did I say the love of my life? Why the fuck did I share something so personal with everyone?
I blamed the wine.
“Oh darling, that’s awful,” Laura said sadly. “And when you returned?”
I gently shrugged my shoulders sadly. “I moved straight to White Point to take up the position at Gellar and Summers.”
Marie's eyes were ringed with empathy as she learned something new about me. She'd never married, always choosing to put her career first. I wondered if my heartbreak reminded her of her own love lost.
Laura pressed on. “Where are you from originally?”
“Grey’s Forest.”
“Oh, that’s where Brax is from!” Laura exclaimed, excitedly.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that perhaps there was more to us than meets the eye. Especially if anyone could read body language.
I stole a quick look at Steven. His eyes darted between Brax and I. Despite him being an absolute dickhead, he was smart. And I could see him piecing together the truth.
“It's a small town, did you two know each other?” Laura asked.
Before I could respond, Brax piped in. “Yes, we did.”
“Oh how lovely, and now you get to work together,” Laura said, pouring another glass of wine, oblivious to the deeper connection between us. “It’s all about who you know isn’t it?”
***
Soaking in the bath, I unlocked my phone to text Taylor.
Dinner went well. Remained professional.
Taylor replied instantly.
Boring. I stayed up til midnight for no reason.
Taylor’s response made me smile.
It was an anti-climax considering Brax and I nearly kissed earlier in the day. But there was no opportunity to pick up where we left off. Not at a work dinner with so many prying eyes and keen ears.
I placed my phone on the side table next to the bath. I was thinking about calling it a night when another text arrived. My stomach fluttered when I saw it was from Brax.
You said something tonight at dinner.
I knew this was coming.
I might torture him a little bit.
I said many things.
The three dots appeared instantly.
You arrived in London heartbroken and miserable? You didn’t tell me that the other night.
I'm tipsy and it's old news.
You left the "love of your life" behind?
Sighing, I sank beneath the water.
I thought of drowning myself there and then.
Why was alcohol such an effective truth serum? I should give it up.
Dylan?
I furiously typed out my response. Then deleted it.
I didn’t know what to say. He had a girlfriend for fucks sake.
I shouldn’t have said it.
I shouldn't have let you go.
A lump formed in my throat as I stared at his reply. Three dots appeared again.
I always think about what my life would be like if I’d chased you.
You wouldn’t be where you are today.
Maybe. But at least I’d be happy.
I scooped up bubbles with my free hand and blew them dramatically into the air.
I stared at my phone and wondered what I should write back.
Why fuck didn't you chase me then?
Nah. That didn't seem appropriate.
I wanted him to keep talking though. I didn't want the conversation to end. I needed more.
More flirting, more validation, more attention. More everything. I'd been starved of these feelings for so long that I was keen to do anything to keep it going.
Plus, I was drunk off my tits.
If you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what would you do right now?
A long moment passed before the three dots appeared.
I’d be on the fourteenth floor of this hotel.
The flirting was getting dangerously out of control.
And do what?
He replied instantly.
You.
'Til death.
My heart thundered.
He shouldn’t be saying this type of soul-wrenching shit to me. But at the same time, I didn’t want him to stop. We were both as bad as each other.
He loved knowing that he had me in a chokehold; while I got off on knowing that my throat was in his hands.
The right thing to do was to put a stop to the delicious temptation. But I would be lying if I said I hadn’t felt this alive in forever.
He was under my skin, gnawing at my bones.
He was a drug and I was a helpless addict.
And I was about to do anything for a proper fix.