Chapter 24 #2
When I step onto the rooftop, I gasp, my eyes going wide. “You did all this?”
Twinkle lights are strewn above us, glowing like tiny lanterns.
Numerous species of hedges and potted plants surround us, transforming what’s a slab of concrete and brick into a lush botanical garden.
Music plays from a speaker somewhere, but it’s soft rock, not classical.
However, the best part is sitting on a table in the center of the rooftop.
Lemon squares, pies, eclairs, frosted cakes, brownies, cookies, fruit tarts, and every dessert in between are artfully displayed. It’s sweet tooth heaven; it’s my heaven.
“I’ll stop at nothing to get what I want.”
“Ford,” I admonish, but my tone is anything but scathing. Instead, it’s breathless and chock-full of awe. My mouth waters at the same time my heart skips a beat. Tearing my gaze from the dessert assortment, I glance in his direction to find his eyes on me. “What is it that you want?”
“You.”
It’s only one word, but it may as well be a million. My mouth goes dry as my body begins to buzz. What am I supposed to do with that statement? I shouldn’t be with him, I can’t.
But what if I did it anyway?
Shutting out the voice of unreason in my head, I stride toward the table without responding.
Reaching for a knife, I slice into the pink-frosted cake with ornate piping, hoping it’ll be strawberry-flavored.
The moment I place the decadent bite on my tongue, my eyes fall closed, and I moan.
It’s completely divine, one of the best strawberry cakes I’ve had; not too dry and the perfect amount of sweetness with a strawberry filling that I think contains strawberry jam.
“If I’d known you’d be this excited about sugar, I’d have brought you cake weeks ago.”
Ford steps up next to me, and I giggle, feeling happier than I should.
In the back of my mind, I want to ask if he knew how much I liked dessert or if this was simply a coincidence, but I don’t.
I’d rather bask in the delightful ease of the moment.
“If this was here all along and you had me playing darts for an hour, I’m going to riot in the street.
There will be smoke bombs and handmade signage, the works. ”
He chuckles, his body brushing against mine as he reaches for a fudge brownie. “I couldn’t play all of my cards at once, doll.”
The term of endearment burrows itself in my brain, and as much as I want to tell myself it’s parasitic, I don’t think I can. “Did these come from Morton’s on M Street? I love that place.”
“I heard they have the best baked goods.” He’s right, they do, and they’re severely underrated, in my opinion.
“I can’t bake for shit, but I can cook,” he adds. “I’m more than a little decent at it, too.”
He’s cocky, but somehow, it works for him without making him seem like a total jerk. I smirk, swallowing a bite of rhubarb pie. “Is that on your résumé?”
“Just the one I’m using to try to get you to like me. Is it working?”
I blush, my cheeks filling with color, and I’m almost more stunned by that than I am the realization that it is working. Saying no to him is becoming one of the hardest things I’ve done in a long time.
With only the truth on my tongue, I opt to smile in response. It’s less risky that way.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Julien?” Ford asks a few minutes later, wandering over to the brick retaining wall and watching the city lights sparkle.
With a slice of frosted black forest cake in hand, I lean my hip against the wall, my eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean?”
“Are you guys dating?”
Julien’s the only client I’m ever seen in public with, so it makes sense that he thinks we’re dating. The rest of the world does as well.
“Julien and I are…friends.” It’s the safest answer, and it’s true, for the most part.
His mouth pulls into a soft smile. “Does that mean we can be friends, too?”
With a sigh, I shake my head as I lift the fork to my lips, suddenly wishing it was my abandoned martini downstairs. I’m going to need to switch back to gin if he’s going to keep up this line of questioning. “Ford, we can’t be friends.”
“Give me one reason.” His voice is smoke that threatens to choke me out.
One? How about a thousand? Starting with the fact that my heart feels like it’s lying on the chopping block, as well as the desire to tear each other’s clothes off looming in the distance, and ending with the reality that something about this evening is making me uneasy.
I could list every reason, but there’s only one that matters—to me. “Because I’m not friends with people I’m tempted to kneel for.”
His eyes flare as his lips mutate into a smug, satisfied grin that causes my pussy to clench and my nipples to tighten. The expression is the same one I give subs when they act out on purpose, jonesing for a punishment. It drips with the promise of pain and pleasure.
“You’ll make an exception for me,” he remarks casually, and I regret my declaration, mentally kicking myself for it. I should know better. Honesty is not always the best policy.
“I won’t,” I snap, but the statement has no real bite. The last of the chocolate and cherry flavors melt on my tongue as I set the plate down on the top of the brick wall next to me. Trying to tame my racing heart, I turn to face the vast city landscape.
“How do you choose your clients?” he asks eventually.
The question jars me out of my reverie, my eyes narrowing in response. Is he asking because he wants me to put him back on my own books, or for a different reason? I attempt to keep my voice steady and light. “Compatibility, gut instinct.”
“So, it has nothing to do with the secrets you collect?”
My lips pinch, and I take a measured breath, battling with the uneasiness now simmering in my veins. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”
He blinks, his startled expression shifting back into his mask of nonchalance. “What do you do with the secrets?”
Ice sluices down my spine like an avalanche of warning bells, and I stiffen, squaring my shoulders.
There’s been no shortage of clients who have inquired about their secrets, seeking reassurance that they’re safe. But there’s something disconcerting about this situation. This is different. Did he invite me here tonight simply to inquire about this? That thought leaves me with a single query…
“Why?”
“Just concerned about mine.” Stepping closer, he invades my space, and if I were a decade younger and far less hardened, the fluttering in my belly would’ve ruled my thoughts and actions.
I’m not buying that for a second. I’ve seen thousands of secrets, seen hundreds of dusty skeletons kept buried within closets of the elite. Ford’s secret isn’t something I’d normally accept. In fact, I’ve denied clients for far better secrets.
There was something raw in Ford’s submission, though. It’s the only reason I accepted it. I wanted to see the man behind a secret like his.
I’ve only loved once, and she left me waiting for her for the rest of my life.
Of all the things he could’ve admitted, why was that what he chose? It was hardly a secret at all, more like a chunk of his soul. It made me wonder if he’d told anyone else about this missing piece of his heart, or if he’s kept it hidden away.
I laugh, the bubbly sound thawing some of my trepidation as I inject calm into my veins.
I can handle this; I’ve been navigating these threatening waters for years.
“With all due respect, your confidences are nothing compared to the others in my vault.” My laughter wanes, but I give him a reassuring smile.
“I can confirm that your secrets are safe. They’re inaccessible to anyone other than me. ”
He nods, but his features tighten at the edges. This entire interaction still feels off. I need a moment to make sure my head is still screwed on straight.
I’m not going to blow up my entire business and watch everything I’ve built implode for this man. I’m playing a long game, and if I want to ensure I win, then creating as much space as possible between me and Ford Crawford is best.
Before I even really think things through, I’m stepping away from him, from the wall, from the situation. “I’m going to leave.”
His dark lashes fan against his cheekbones before he lifts his gaze to mine, nearly searing me to the spot.
I need to go. Now.