Cadence
P RESENT TIME
The drive to the meeting is spent in silence. Again .
I think there was one point that Onesimus looks as if he's dying to speak, badly.
And he's not the only one, to be honest.
I want to talk about the past. I want to ask for his forgiveness. But the moment either Onesimus or I open our mouth, Keiran gives us a look, and we both shut up.
Our shared master wins again, 2-0.
Heads turn as soon as our limo cruises to a stop...at my own restaurant?
Seriously?
Gemma rushes to me, whispering, I thought you said you couldn't come to work.
I thought so, too, but obviously not, and so all I can do is smile weakly. "It's complicated."
I follow Keiran inside our largest function room. Everyone on the table is a familiar face, and all eyes are on Keiran, then me.
He makes no explanation of my presence, only taking a seat on the head of the table before causing multiple jaws to drop as he calmly asks me to sit on his lap.
When he said he wants me to earn him back, he clearly wasn't joking.
I meet his gaze and say cheerfully, "Don't mind if I do."
Three years ago, I hurt my husband by letting other people's words get between us.
Never again.
Keiran says nothing as I take a seat on his lap, but his arm curves around my waist as soon as I do. He then makes a slight gesture with his hand, and it's as if everyone's bottoms are on fire.
His VPs start talking. Fast. I do my best to listen, but he's hard. I mean, it's hard. Because of, well, that. It's really, really hard, and twitching just as hard.
Is it just me or do I need to call someone to check if our AC is working?
“We’ve gone through the updates," a woman in a blazer is reporting nervously. "Our only concern is the zoning on the west lot. The original environmental study flagged potential traffic overflow.”
"And your proposed solution?" Keiran asks.
An idea occurs to me, and I start typing on my phone. My dad used to get me involved in planning corporate events, and I had really enjoyed the logistic side of it. I'm guessing, for Keiran's upcoming hotel, we could have a private shuttle for guests and event staff. We could also plan a re-routing for a secondary drop-off—-
Keiran swipes my phone from my hand, and my cheeks turn red as I listen to him share the suggestions I've jotted down in a silky tone.
Eep!
I'm about to apologize for being so presumptuous...when everyone on the table suddenly starts speaking at the same time, thanking and praising me for my input with looks of visible relief on their faces.
Huh.
Were my suggestions really worth considering—-or were they just happy for me to be a distraction that effectively got Keiran off their backs?
The meeting rolls on. Keiran asks me point blank at certain points, and I end up answering two more questions and correcting one minor error in a materials report.
By the time the meeting ends, everyone is officially confused, and even I'm not sure what just happened. Did I somehow misjudge him? Isn't me being his mistress Keiran's way to punish me for the past? So why give me a chance to demonstrate I'm not as brainless as most people may have assumed?
Another wave of his hand has everyone quickly saying goodbye and thanking Keiran and me for our time. But when I try to stand up—-
"Not so fast."
His hands settle on my waist, and before I can blink, I’m no longer on his lap—I’m seated on the edge of the table, legs dangling, Keiran standing between them.
“You did very well today, .”
My heart pounds as his fingers press lightly against my inner thighs.
“But it’s not enough.”
I forget how to breathe at his words, and my senses reel as his hands slide higher—slow, steady.
"I want you to touch yourself."
My eyes widen.
"W-What?"
His expression doesn’t change.
"You heard me.”
"But—here?”
He takes his seat like he's about to get a show.
Gulp .
"Have you changed your mind about wanting to earn me back?"
I start to shake my head, but he cuts me off.
"Then prove it."
My fingers tremble as I reach beneath my skirt. Heat rushes through me before I even find what I’m looking for.
Keiran's eyes never leave mine. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.
Just watches as I touch myself.
Tentatively at first. Then with more confidence when I see the way his gaze tracks every movement.
I want him to tell me I’m doing good.
I want him to touch me himself.
But Keiran remains frustratingly silent and still, his gaze hooded.
My breath turns into short little gasps as I get close.
So close.
But just as I'm about to fall over that edge, Keiran's fingers suddenly close around my wrist.
"Stop.”
My entire body freezes.
“You don’t get to come until I say so,” he says curtly.
Did he j-just say what I thought he said?
"Do you understand?"
I want to shake my head. Tell him this is too much. But when I catch a glimpse of something sharp, vulnerable, and furious in the smoky-gray depths of his gaze—-
Oh Keiran.
It's been three years, but for both of us, it still feels like yesterday that I had chosen my parents over him, and he had walked out on our marriage.
And that's why he wants to hurt me.
Because he's hurting.
And he will never stop hurting me...even if it means hurting himself in the process.