Chapter 16 Charlotte
Charlotte
“I’m paying you for your loyalty. If you plaster yourself all over another man in public again, the deal is off.”
Cole hadn’t spoken a word to me on the limo ride back to his place. He’d just sat there seething and communicating in increments of increasing jaw torsion. Then he chose this as his opening gambit? Plastering myself?
“People are right about you. You’re an arsehole online and IRL.” I dropped my clutch bag on the side table and ripped off the Saint Laurent heels my poor feet had been stuffed into. “What is your problem? A man asked me to dance. So what?”
His lips thinned in displeasure. “None of that was about you.”
I hopped around on the cold marble, alternately rubbing each aching foot. “No, because heaven forbid a man might want to dance with me!”
Cole held perfectly still in the large marble foyer.
He measured me with a calculating stare.
Despite his inscrutable expression and polished veneer, something dangerous rolled beneath his cold poise.
This wasn’t the Cole I knew. Years had passed between us, but I’d never seen him this upset.
He’d always been so reserved and self-possessed.
Cole was like if “unbothered” had a next level.
He didn’t lose his temper or lash out. Something was rattling him.
Something really big. What has this life done to you to get you so twisted up like this?
“You could have danced with anyone there but him.”
“He’s your brother. What do you think is going to happen?”
“That man is not my brother. He was doing it on purpose to make me jealous, and you walked right into it.”
This thing between us was supposed to be civil and emotionless. I’d been trying to blend in. I’d been doing what he’d asked me to do. Anger surged through me, but I didn’t even try to be a good girl and suppress it. It felt good. Wild and powerful.
He came close, looking down at me intently with his glacial glare. “Do you like him?”
“What?”
“Do you find Reuben attractive?”
I threw my arms wide, exasperated. “So what if I do? These things don’t happen to me. I never have handsome men asking me to dance at fancy balls.”
“Handsome? That clown? Did he offer you something? To spy for him?”
“Of course not. Do you realize how paranoid you sound?”
“What did you talk about?”
You. All we talked about was you. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing. His head was already too big. “It’s none of your business. I could have fucked him in an alley around the back of the building and it would still be none of your business.”
His eyebrows hitched, and he stepped back as though I’d slapped him.
Had I shocked him? The good girl he’d left behind in Ecclesdale had rarely sworn.
But then, she’d never had to deal with the things I had over the past couple of years.
I’d watched my father’s slow decline and been powerless to stop it.
A grown man having a tantrum because of petty jealousy wasn’t about to faze me.
His voice was composed but it held a lethal edge. “Don’t mistake my generosity for weakness, Charlotte. I’m paying you an inordinate amount for a service. Please take some time to review the contract. I expect your loyalty in public, at least.”
Generosity? Like I wasn’t doing him a favor too, signing up for this farce.
This marriage was his idea, not mine. I could still walk away.
“That’s right. You’re paying for a service.
You don’t own me. The contract doesn’t control my thoughts or my desires.
Maybe I just wanted to feel something different for a change. ”
Something light and exciting. “Maybe I wanted him to take me home tonight. I’m not the sweet, innocent girl you left behind. I’m not a nun, Cole. Yes, I found him attractive. Most would. He’s objectively handsome. So what?”
Everybody around me had spent their twenties screwing around and making mistakes. I hadn’t. He couldn’t blame me for getting swept up in a moment.
His voice was low and calm, but somehow more chilling than when he’d snapped. “That’s what you were looking for? A chance to feel something different?”
Yes. No. Maybe. “Tonight was a lot for me. You didn’t warn me you were going to touch me like that or look at me like that.”
He watched me with a somber expression. “Like what?”
“You know like what.”
He gave an irritable tug of his sleeve. “I made you uncomfortable?”
Yes. But not in the way he was worrying about. “It’s something I’ll have to adjust to. It’s been a long time since a man touched me, if you must know.”
“How long?”
Long enough that my hymen had probably regrown. Looking after Dad hadn’t left much scope for meeting men. “It doesn’t matter.”
He searched my face, his eyes questioning. “You’re not . . . ? There have been other men?”
I batted my eyelashes with faux innocence. “No, Cole. I’ve been saving myself for you. All these years, I’ve waited.”
His brow arched in concern. “You have?”
I couldn’t help my laugh at the surprise in his eyes. “I’m joking. It’s just been a while, that’s all. I’m not used to . . . physical stuff.”
His eyes narrowed. “How many men?”
“You don’t get to ask me that.”
He pierced me with his brooding gaze. I saw it then—a flicker in the inscrutable depths of those beautiful eyes.
He wasn’t just angry, he was struggling.
He looked like a drowning man fighting an undercurrent.
Something was very wrong. What is going on inside that head of yours?
An ache speared my chest. Some stupid urge made me want to reach out and touch his face, to comfort him, to throw him a lifeline. But I didn’t dare.
“You’ll need to get used to the physical stuff. It would be a mistake to kiss for the first time again in the church with everyone watching. We should rehearse it so it doesn’t freak you out or look too staged. We need to get it out of the way beforehand,” he said.
I’d told him the touching made me feel weird and his take-home message was to do more?
How had we gone from arguing to talking about kissing?
My heart thumped. Cole had run away from me once before and broken me.
He’d do the same again given half a chance.
I had to stick to the contract and keep this a business arrangement.
If I played this right, I’d walk out of here with a life-changing amount of money.
I could do anything with five million. This man didn’t get to have any sway over my emotions.
I had to let him kiss me and have it mean nothing.
“Fine. Kiss me, if that’s what you want.” I rolled my shoulders back in defiance.
He stepped closer, his eyes blazing. “Is it what you want?”
My breathing came too sharp and erratic. “It makes sense.”
“I agree.”
He ripped off his jacket and threw it over the grand piano.
Angrily, he removed his cuff links, tossed them next to his jacket, and rolled his crisp white shirtsleeves to the elbows.
Dark hair dusted his defined forearms. This man had never done a day’s hard graft in his life, but he had the muscular arms of a laborer. How was it even possible?
His jaw clenched, and his breath was shallow. “Well? How do you want to start?”
I dragged my eyes away from his forearms. Now? Anger made my heart pound, but I couldn’t deny the pull to give in to the tension that bound us so tightly. To give up the fight and melt into him.
“It’s a wedding kiss. That means tasteful and respectful. Just imagine we’ve tied the knot.” I tilted my chin up and adopted a low, solemn voice. “You may now kiss the bride.”
A brief flicker of amusement pulled at his full lips. “Who’s that supposed to be?”
“I don’t know. The celebrant.”
He swept a loose strand of hair from my cheek and propped it behind my ear. “Oh.”
My pulse pounded in my throat. I lifted my chin higher. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to close the gap between us. “Are you going to get on with it, then?”
His eyes dropped to my lips. “I don’t like to be rushed.”
No. I knew that, but there was something new flickering in his eyes—anticipation? Desire? He lifted his hand to my face and smoothed his thumb over my cheekbone. Electricity crackled between us, raw and volatile.
“I like to take my time,” he said.
“It’s not about taking your time. It’s about practice—”
His soft lips pressed against mine, warm and tentative, stealing my words.
A rush of nerves made my body hot and heavy.
His other hand rested on my throat, and his mouth caressed mine in a kiss that was so gentle it was barely touching, yet persuasive enough to send my stomach into wild swirls.
He tasted sweet, like the orange juice he’d been drinking at the party.
Cole had kissed me once before, many years ago, and now my body had some strange sense that those intervening years were nothing and we were picking up where we’d left things that day. As though he hadn’t broken my heart. As though the past years hadn’t broken my spirit.
Cole’s warm mouth and his thumb resting gently at the pulsing hollow of my throat made everything evaporate.
It was just me and him. A deep sense of peace dissolved the nerves in my chest. Me and Cole.
And for one reckless moment, my heart wanted to pretend that the years in between the last meeting of our lips were melting away.
That time meant nothing. That not a day had passed.
We were just kids in love. I’d always been his, and he’d always been mine.
Our lips were always meant to be doing this.