Chapter 11 December 11th #2
“That doesn’t make us kindred spirits.”
He lets out a bark of laughter, caressing the rim of his short, fat glass with his fingertip in slow circles. “You’re very intriguing.”
“Don’t be intrigued, Hugh. It’s dangerous.”
His smile slowly drops as he casts his eyes my way. “How many men have been intrigued by you, Camryn?”
“Enough for me to know what I’m doing.” Not enough for me to be cured.
Two small leather folders are placed before us, courtesy of Julio, and I watch, expressionless, as Hugh scribbles his signature in his first, before helping himself to mine.
Flicking me a look annoyingly on the edge of self-assuredness, he stands.
“Excuse me while I use the men’s.” I watch him stride away, my top lip sucked between my teeth, and I rest back on my stool, contemplating. Questioning.
Hesitating.
He’s married.
It grates on me. Do I want to sleep with Hugh? No. Should I? No.
Will I?
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say, catching Julio’s mild look of disapproval. “I don’t touch married men.” He’s observed me many times in recent years. He knows this.
His eyebrows lift. “So you’re just leading him on?”
“He deserves it.” I give him a sardonic smile. “You can watch him wilt when he realises I’m not going to follow him up to room six-one-eight. You can make me another martini now. Maybe a single guy will show up soon.”
Julio shakes his head and pulls the vodka off the glass shelf. “I have a feeling the disappointment will be real.”
“Really?” I ask. “Why? Because I dazzled him with my charm? Swooned all over him? Made hi—”
“Indirectly promised him a night of sex with no strings attached.”
I pause for thought and then nod mildly in agreement. “Every sex-deprived, married man’s dream.”
“But what about the single men?”
“They’re usually emotionally unavailable.” Except Dec. I flinch and check the progress of my next drink.
“You’re a stunning woman, Camryn,” Julio says, surprising me. “I’m just being honest here, okay?”
“Okay,” I say slowly, quite sure I’m not going to want to hear this.
“You’re obviously smart, confident, successful, and very intriguing.”
And utterly fucking broken. None of them see that part.
Except Dec. Julio starts shaking my drink, and it can’t come soon enough.
The moment the sound of ice crashing against the metal stops, he pushes a clean glass toward me and pours, eyes on his task.
“Men love those qualities, but many don’t want to marry them. ”
“They just want to fuck them,” I murmur, just as he looks past me.
“There’s sometimes the odd exception who wants to go deeper.” His eyes come back to me. “I’ll leave you to your third martini.” And he goes to the sink and washes the shaker as I stare at my drink for a few moments, my spine tingling.
I eventually bring myself to look over my shoulder.
Dec’s at the entrance, slap bang in the middle of the open double doors, eyes like spears aimed my way. “I had a feeling.” His voice is deep and grainy, as if his vocal cords are straining, a certain edge of darkness dripping from his tone I’m sure I should be wary of.
And I am.
He looks somewhere between anger and disappointment, like a parent who’s dealing with an errant child.
My hackles rise. He had a feeling? Endless retorts run amok in my mind, not one of them willing to come forward.
The collar of his navy coat is turned up, flakes of snow dusting his shoulders and hair.
Indignance and sheer stubbornness demands me to turn away, give him the cold shoulder, but my eyes have other ideas, continuing with their appreciative jaunt down his tall frame to his feet.
His brown leather dress shoes are dark around the toes, stained by the snow.
Why did you leave me hanging all weekend? Why did you leave me alone?
No. “You had a feeling,” I murmur.
His astute gaze scans the empty bar as he approaches, his gait smooth, his posture tall and intimidating. “What’s going on, Camryn?” He flicks a small nod to Julio, his lips straight.
“I’m having a drink.”
Julio disappears to the other end of the bar, pulling open the glass washer.
Steam billows out, misting the space between the bar and the ceiling, making the hazy lighting even hazier.
My eyes drop to the half-drunk Negroni next to my martini, and I just know that’s what Dec’s gaze is set on too.
A cautious peek out the corner of my eyes confirms it.
If the tumbler shattered under the weight of his concentrated glare, I wouldn’t be surprised.
He’s livid. And yet still unbelievably handsome.
His lips should be thinner given how stretched they are, but they remain plump.
Kissable. “Whose is it?” he asks, his question brittle. “Answer me, Camryn.”
“You didn’t give me a chance to.”
“I’m giving you the chance now.” His towering body turns into me, coming closer, forcing my neck back to look up at him. A familiar wave of panic starts to rise from the pit of my stomach, my thoughts scrambling in a hundred directions. Fight? Flee?
“You’re talking like I owe you an explanation.”
“You do. Tell me.”
Because I have no idea how to handle this situation, or Dec’s hostility, I swivel away from him.
Hiding. Coward. My reprieve from his foul mood is short-lived, and he turns me straight back toward him, taking my glass from my hand and placing it on the bar before taking Hugh’s stool and pulling it as close as he can, invading my personal space.
“Whose glass is it, Camryn?”
I stare straight into his darkening eyes. “A man’s.”
I’m sure I hear the sound of his teeth grinding. “Get your coat on, we’re leaving.”
“What?”
He stands abruptly and dips into his pocket, throwing a pile of notes on the bar. “Get up.”
I stare at the money as Julio dares to venture back to this end of the bar, his lips straight too. “The tab’s been settled,” he says, almost with regret, throwing me an apologetic look.
“By whom?” Dec asks shortly.
Julio peeks at me.
“I’m asking you,” he grates. “Not Camryn.”
“Dec, stop it,” I warn.
He wraps his big hand around my upper arm, trying to stand me up with a gentle but firm force.
“Stop it,” I snap, wriggling free of his hold. “What are you doing?”
It’s the worst timing, and yet I expected it.
Hugh strolls out of the men’s, his hands on his zipper still fastening himself.
Fuck. His broad smile wavers, and I sigh, reaching for my nose and pinching the bridge as I squeeze my eyes closed.
And yet I can’t really play a victim. I knew what I was doing when I came here.
The vulnerable, broken woman was hoping to find Dec.
The acrimonious, twisted wench whose mother doesn’t recognise her wanted to prove she’s not worthy of his acceptance.
Of anyone’s acceptance. I’m a lost cause.
Dec can’t save me, and he’d be a fool to believe he can.
“That’s my seat,” Hugh says, his chest puffing out.
“It is not your seat.” Dec swipes up the Negroni and shoves it into Hugh’s chest, spilling the orange liquid down his crisp white shirt. “Take your drink and yourself back to wherever you were sitting before you moved in on the beautiful, intriguing woman at the bar.”
Hugh laughs lightly, looking down his stained shirt. “She never mentioned a boyfriend.”
“Because she doesn’t have one.”
“Then who the fuck are you?”
Something switches in Dec, a red mist of rage dropping and veiling his handsome face, contorting it. He moves closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “I’m the man who’ll fuck you up if you don’t get the fuck away from her now.”
“Dec,” I breathe, shocked.
“Gentlemen,” Julio calls sternly, ready to fly over the bar and drag Dec off Hugh.
“Leave,” Dec grits out. “She won’t be opening her legs for you.”
I balk, my lax mouth falling open. How dare he? “You can stay,” I snap.
Hugh looks absolutely bewildered, his head batting back and forth between us. “The lady would like me to stay.”
“I strongly advise against it,” Dec says quietly, one shoulder leaning forward.
His fist could be mistaken for giant snowballs, all the blood squeezed out of his hands.
It takes Hugh only a couple more seconds of deliberation before he backs off, collecting his things and leaving the bar.
And I don’t blame him. Dec looks as if he could explode at any moment.
And I stand still and quiet, ashamed, embarrassed, the ache in my chest bringing my hand up to try and massage it away. Humiliated.
Shaking, Dec lowers to the stool. I don’t, remaining on my feet, waiting for him to cool off. “I’ll ask you again,” he says, calm but definitely not. “What’s going on?”
I don’t know what to say as I frantically try to keep the bricks of my wall in place.
An impossible task when Dec just keeps smashing through them.
We kissed, it was amazing, but he left me in limbo all weekend to fend off the blasts of my past coming at me mercifully.
He left me to talk myself round in circles over that kiss.
He left me to convince myself he can’t handle me.
Don’t get close.
He cares about you.
But he doesn’t know me.
“I kissed you, Camryn.”
Oh, Dec, you certainly did. I look away when his gaze drops to my mouth, as if he’s considering reminding me of how magical that kiss was. He doesn’t need to. It’s etched in my mind, carved deeply, never to be forgotten.
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
I did, I did, I did. Admittedly, initially, I wanted him to kiss the life out of me and fuck me hard to take me away from this godforsaken world even just for a little while, but it was quickly and suddenly more than that.
I didn’t want him to kiss me because it would lead to sex and escape, but because I so desperately wanted to be that close to him.
Taste him. Feel him. The hunger in the desperation was suddenly different, and so much more than I’m used to dealing with.
And then it happened, and it was so incredibly wonderful.
The kiss, his words, the way he looked at me. It was so so much more.
But then I pined for him. Got mad with him. Got mad with myself.
And now I’m sabotaging whatever this is.
You can’t let someone close without letting them in. And after that kiss, after this weekend, after tonight, I know this man could break me even more than I’m already broken.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” I say, trying to sound sure and strong, wondering if I could be anymore broken.
He drags tired, empty eyes my way. “Right.” He rises from his stool lethargically, as if it’s an effort. As if he’s had all the fight knocked out of him. “I shouldn’t have come.” His sneer cuts deep, as I know he intended it to. And I deserve it. “Goodbye, Camryn.”
“Your money, sir.” Julio scoops up the notes and holds them out, and Dec considers the handful of cash for a few long moments before he takes it and drops it at my feet. “For the kiss.”
He stalks off, and I’m once again rendered useless. And unreasonably hurt. The pain in my chest is excruciating—but I deserve that too.
It takes me a few too many seconds to gather my scattered thoughts, for my sensibility to wade through the perpetual bog of grief, and surface. I look at Julio like he might be able to help me out. Guide me. I get nothing. “I deserved that, didn’t I?”
His hands come up, and he backs off. It’s a resounding yes without speaking up.
Sabotage.
He had a feeling I’d be here. He knew. Because he wants to know you.
He cares. “Shit.” I scoop up my things and go after Dec, hurrying through the lobby and breaking out into a blizzard.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, the baltic air nearly taking me off my feet.
I hurry into my coat, scanning up and down the street for him, squinting to see past the fast-falling flurry of snow.
He’s crossing the road at the end of the road.
“Dec,” I yell, hurrying after him, my heels getting lost in the snow.
“Dec, wait. Shit!” My foot slips from under me, forcing me to grab a nearby railing.
“Dec!” He becomes blurrier. “God damn me.” I take off my shoes and, like a mad woman, brave the snow barefoot, jogging down the street. “Oh my God,” I gasp, my feet frozen.
He opens the back door of a grey Defender.
“Dec!”
Looking up, his hand still clenching the handle, he finds me on the pavement through the snow, and an eternity passes, him staring at me, me waiting, rolling around the words I need to make this right. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, not nearly loud enough to be heard.
He shakes his head and slips into the back of the car, and my heart sinks as the door closes and it pulls away, handling the conditions with smooth grace and ease, eventually disappearing around the corner.
And I stand, a stupid, wet, cold, barefoot mess on the pavement in the snow watching him go.
Because I pushed him away.
The best thing that’s happened to me in so long.
Gone.