Chapter 10 #2
We moved away, drifting back into the crowd, and I glanced over my shoulder. Simon and Hannah had already turned toward each other, her head tilted up to his, sharing some private exchange that made them both smile. His hand rested at the small of her back.
Something in my chest ached—envy, longing, grief for a version of myself I’d never gotten to be.
Jack’s hand hovered at my back—close enough to feel the heat of him, far enough that I couldn’t accuse him of touching me. Not really.
I pretended not to notice. Pretended it didn’t steady me. Pretended I wasn’t already in trouble.
At some point, Jack disappeared to speak with investors, and I found myself alone near the bar.
It was easier to observe from the edges. Less pressure. Zero chance of doing something that would mark me as someone who didn’t belong.
A man approached within minutes—charming smile, forgettable face. He asked about my evening, made a comment about the champagne, leaned against the bar with his body angled toward mine.
I made polite conversation and watched Jack across the room.
A blonde had cornered him near the auction displays. She was standing too close, touching his arm, laughing with her whole body angled toward him like a flower seeking sun. She was beautiful. The kind of beautiful I had never been and would never be.
Jack was smiling. Something hot and unwelcome twisted in my chest.
I looked away. Drained my champagne. Ordered another.
The man beside me was still talking. I had no idea what he was saying. I nodded at appropriate intervals and tried not to look at Jack again.
I failed.
Another man appeared. Then another. Each one finding some excuse to drift into my orbit, with interest I didn’t want and attention I hadn’t asked for.
I was deflecting the third one’s offer to get me another drink when a voice cut through the conversation.
“There you are.”
Jack appeared at my side like he’d been summoned, and the look he gave the man beside me was polite on the surface but carried something colder underneath.
“I was just keeping your date company,” the man said, not quite backing down.
“I appreciate that.” Jack’s hand found my waist, proprietary in a way that sent heat flooding through me. “But I’ll take it from here.”
The man retreated. Jack watched him go with narrowed eyes.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Having a wonderful time.” My voice came out sharp, I arched a brow studying him. “Watching women throw themselves at you is very entertaining.”
His eyebrows rose. “Does that bother you?”
“Of course not.” I set my empty glass on the bar with more force than required. “Why would it bother me? Flirt with whoever you want. We’re not together. We’re nothing to each other.”
Jack stepped closer. His voice dropped low enough that only I could hear.
“You’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous.”
“Pauline.”
“I am not.” I said it firmly, clearly, with absolutely no wobble in my voice. “I don’t care. It doesn’t affect me at all—“
“But I care,”
“What?”
His blue bore into mine without deflection.
“I hated every second of watching those men approach you. I didn’t like the way they looked at you—” He stopped, jaw working.
“What I’m saying is that I’m jealous,” he said, voice low.
“I hated watching them look at you like they had a chance. I hated knowing you’d let them try. ”
The music swelled around us. The crowd pressed close. And I stood there, caught in the gravity of Jack Specter, feeling my walls start to crumble and not knowing how to stop it.
“We should go,” I said.
He didn’t argue.
The car broke down on the way home.
One moment we were driving through dark streets in charged silence, the air between us thick with everything we weren’t saying.
The next, the engine made a sound like a wounded animal and the car rolled to a stop on the side of the road.
Jack tried the ignition. Nothing. He swore under his breath—a rare crack in his composure—and pulled out his phone to call for a replacement.
I didn’t wait for him to finish. I pushed open my door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, needing air. Space. To be anywhere that wasn’t inside that car with him and the memory of his voice saying he was jealous.
The night air hit me like a slap. Cold and sharp, cutting through the thin silk of my dress. I wrapped my arms around myself and stared at nothing, willing my heartbeat to slow.
For my thoughts to settle into something that made sense.
I heard his door open. Close. His footsteps on the pavement, slow and deliberate.
“Ten minutes,” he said from somewhere behind me.
I nodded without turning around.
The silence stretched between us. No crowd to hide in now. No music, no chatter, no convenient distractions.
Just the empty street and the darkness and the weight of everything we’d been circling around.
“Pauline.” His voice was closer than I expected. “Look at me.”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. If I turned around, if I looked into those eyes, I would—
“Please.”
That word. That single, quiet word, stripped of all his usual confidence. It undid something in me.
I turned.
He was closer than I’d realized. Close enough that I could see the tension in his jaw. The streetlight caught his face, all sharp angles and shadows, and his eyes…His eyes were burning.
“Why do you do this?” He asked.
“Do what?”
“Push me away.” He moved closer. I should have stepped back. I didn’t. “Pretend you don’t feel what I know you feel.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw your face when that woman was talking to me.” He was closer now, “I saw you watching. Why can’t you just admit that you still want me.” His voice was lower, rougher. “That whatever we had didn’t end just because you decided it did.”
My breath caught. “I told you, we are already over.”
“Are we?” He reached up, slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
His fingers grazed my cheek and I shivered—not from the cold. “Then why are you trembling?”
“It’s cold.”
“Liar.”
“Jack—”
“Tell me you don’t feel this.” His hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face up toward his. “Tell me you don’t lie awake at night thinking about what we had. Tell me you don’t wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t walked away.”
I couldn’t speak. My heart felt like it was escaping my chest.
“Tell me,” he whispered, “and I’ll stop. I’ll take you home and I’ll never bring it up again. Just say the words.”
I was shaking. Trembling in his hands like a leaf in a storm.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmured.
I didn’t say stop.
I didn’t say anything at all.
He kissed me.
Soft at first. Tentative. The gentlest brush of his lips against mine, made my muscle memory take over.
I rose onto my toes, closing the distance he’d left between us, and the kiss caught fire.
His arms wrapped around me, one hand splaying across my lower back, the other sliding into my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.
I melted into him—melted into the heat and the hunger and the aching familiarity of his mouth on mine. He tasted like champagne and something that was just him, and I couldn’t get enough.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips and I opened for him, and the sound he made—low and rough and reverent—vibrated through my entire body.
I arched into him, needing more, needing everything, and he groaned against my mouth and pulled me closer, closer, until there was no space left between us.
“Pauline.” He breathed my name like a prayer, like a curse, like something holy. “God, Pauline.”
His mouth left mine and trailed down my jaw, my neck, finding the sensitive spot just below my ear. His teeth grazed my skin and I gasped, my head falling back, my fingers clutching his shoulders like he was the only solid thing in a world that had gone spinning.
“I’ve wanted this,” he murmured against my throat. “Every day. Every night. I’ve dreamed about this.”
“Jack—”
His lips traced the line of my collarbone, hot and hungry, and the word I meant to say next dissolved into nothing.
His mouth found mine again, deeper this time, more desperate. His hands tightened on my waist. His breath came ragged against my lips. And I pulled him closer still, this want I’d spent seven years burying clawing its way back to the surface, refusing to be ignored.
A car passed. Headlights swept across us.
And just like that, reality came crashing back.
Like I’d been plunged in cold water.
I pushed him away. Hard.
Because wanting him was easy.
Because losing him again would destroy me.
“No. This doesn’t change anything.”
“No.” My voice was shaking. My whole body was shaking. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“Pauline—”
“Buying my company. Inviting me to galas. Kissing me on dark streets.” I backed away, putting distance between us, needing space to breathe. “None of it matters. What we had is over. It’s been over.”
Jack stared at me. His breathing was uneven. Something wounded flickered behind his eyes.
Headlights blinked again.
The replacement car.
We didn’t speak for the rest of the drive.
At my apartment, I got out without looking at him. Without saying goodnight. Or acknowledging what had just happened between us.
I walked inside and closed the door and leaned against it in the darkness.
I could still feel his mouth on mine. Still tasted him. Could still feel the ghost of his hands on my back, pulling me closer.
I pressed my fingers to my lips and tried to remember why I had stopped.
The reasons felt thin. Blurry. Like something I had memorized a long time ago and was starting to forget. The memory of his mouth felt real.
I went to bed and didn’t sleep, and when I closed my eyes, all I could see was blue.