Chapter Twelve
Gareth
More…
That single word haunted me in the best possible way. I could still taste her, feel her body reacting to me, tightening around me. She was a potent combination of the strongest drug, the most addictive liquor, a substance I couldn’t deny or refuse, and that was dangerous.
All I wanted to do was touch her, but I didn’t dare.
Instead, I signed off on the final draft of the Wolfe Family Reunion contract at 1:17 p.m., Eastern time. The moment the digital ink dried, my chest went cold, as if someone had swapped my blood for crushed ice.
All Eden’s meticulous planning came down to this one moment.
Before Eden, I’d waited through five months of planning, eight event coordinators, two feuding chefs – Maribel and the catering staff, a security detail that could have handled a presidential visit, and now it was locked. Unalterable. Doomed to proceed.
Objectively, it was a triumph. The schedule was airtight, the vendors cowed into being on their best behavior, the grounds a showpiece of perfection. I should have felt satisfied. Instead, I just kept staring at the date of detonation and counting the minutes until the show.
I checked the clock again, then let myself watch the surveillance feed for the main hall.
Not because I expected an emergency. Because I was addicted.
There she was, moving through the foyer with her phone clutched to her chest. Her hair was up, a few loose curls framing her face.
She’d worn the white blouse today, the one with the soft, impossible sleeves and the button at the throat she never bothered to fasten.
It was driving me insane. She was driving me insane.
Don’t look. Don’t… dammit, why is she standing right there?
She paused at the mirror to adjust her collar, then caught sight of her own reflection and smiled, a small, private thing that had my body instantly reacting.
I wanted to know what she was thinking in that moment, what it felt like to see yourself through the eyes of someone who wanted you so badly it hurt to breathe.
I told myself it was a passing infatuation. That I’d seen it before, a thousand times, always ending in disaster. But that was a lie, and I couldn’t stop.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her, at the breakfast table, on the balcony, kneeling by the koi pond, probably naming the fish even though that was a bad idea. I dreamed about her at night, woke up with my sheets twisted and my skin burning, ashamed and satisfied and desperate for more.
She was everywhere, and I had no idea how to make her stop.
My phone buzzed, a calendar alert. Final walkthrough, rose garden, 2:00 p.m. I grimaced. The thought of wading through vendors and clipboards made my temples throb, but if I skipped it, Eden would have an excuse to bother me all afternoon.
Maybe I wanted her to.
I stood, smoothed my tie, and checked my reflection in the glass. I looked tired, older than usual. There were faint lines at my eyes, a tightness at the mouth that wasn’t there a year ago. If Eden saw me now, she’d say something sassy.
With a deep breath, I left my office, took the back stairs, and crossed the corridor that led to the gardens. The air outside was thick with green, wet grass, new leaves, the heavy sweetness of blooming roses. All the rain lately had done beautiful things for the gardens.
The garden was already crawling with staff. Two groundskeepers fussed over cuttings of a white rose, the vendor was scanning the property, stunned, and Eden stood at the edge of the gazebo, checking her phone and looking deeply unimpressed by the people around her.
I watched her for a moment, pretending to care about anything else.
She’d put on sunglasses, but I could see the pinch of concentration at the corners of her mouth, the way she bit her lip when she scrolled.
I wanted to walk up behind her, slide my arms around her waist, and sink my teeth into that soft, perfect spot just below her jaw.
Instead, I cleared my throat. “Problems already?”
She lowered her phone, and the sound of her voice hit me like a left hook. “If by ‘problems’ you mean the catering manager threatening to quit unless Maribel backs off and lets them do all the planning, then yes. Problems.”
I snorted. “No way she’ll step down, so catering better get it together.”
Eden’s mouth twitched. “What, Maribel being bossy? Unthinkable.”
I let myself look at her a little longer than necessary.
The sunlight hit her hair, turning it almost gold.
Her blouse was too thin for the weather, and the breeze pressed it against her body, outlining everything.
It was distracting. She was distracting.
I had to fight the urge to drag her into the shade and see how far I could push her before she started biting back.
Instead, I said, “You’re overdressed.”
She smiled, teeth bared. “You’re one to talk. That suit probably cost more than my first car.”
“Your car must have been a real piece of shit,” I said, just to see if she’d blush.
She did. “It was. But at least I never let any stains set.” She nodded at a faint spot on my lapel. “Didn’t know you were capable of human error.”
I almost laughed. I hadn’t noticed the mark, but now I was hyper-aware of it. I brushed at it, as if my fingertips would remove it. “I make mistakes all the time. Hiring you, for example.”
She stepped closer, the space between us shrinking to a few feet. “Liar. You love having me here.”
“I tolerate it,” I lied, but my pulse was already pounding.
She tilted her head. “You need to get out more, Gareth.”
“Noted,” I said, but I was staring at her lips.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The voices of the staff faded into the background, leaving just the two of us in the center of the world. I could have kissed her, right there, with the entire household watching. I wanted to.
But Eden blinked, broke the spell. “Come on,” she said, leading the way into the gazebo. “We have to talk about the seating chart before you bolt like a frightened deer.”
I followed her, desperate for more of her voice, her scent, the way she moved, the way her backside caught my eye and all my attention.
The gazebo was empty, shaded by the climbing roses I’d imported at obscene cost two years ago.
Eden slid into the far bench, stretching her legs, and patted the seat beside her.
I sat, careful not to touch her.
She pulled out her phone and scrolled to the chart. “Okay,” she said, “before you veto everything, I need to remind you that this part can be changed on the fly if needed. But I want to make sure we have a basic idea where everyone should be.”
“Why are we even bothering with this?”
“Because it’s important,” she said, eyes locked on mine. “Even if you’re too proud to admit it.”
I felt the words hit, hard, but I said nothing. It was easier to deflect. “If you want a raise, this is not the way to get it.”
She grinned, unbothered. “Maybe I just like the challenge.”
I looked away, past the trellis and out to the orchard beyond. The sunlight hurt my eyes. “There’s nothing to fix, Eden.”
She was silent for a moment, then said, “Why did you even agree to this reunion? You hate all of them.”
She’d done her homework.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The real reason was so ugly, so final, that I didn’t trust myself to say it aloud. Especially not to her.
Eden didn’t push. Instead, she nudged her knee against mine, a brief, accidental contact that sent a shock up my leg. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, and forced myself to focus.
She was talking again, her voice low and earnest. “Maybe you don’t want to fix it. Maybe you just want to prove you can survive it. But there’s more to you than this, Gareth.”
I almost laughed. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because you hired me,” she said. “And because you keep trying, even when you’re convinced it’s pointless.”
The compliment was so unexpected, so raw, that I had to look away again.
She reached over, her hand brushing my wrist. “You’re not a monster, you know.”
I flinched at the touch, but didn’t pull away. Her fingers were soft, cooler than mine. She held the contact, just long enough to make my skin burn, then let go.
For a second, I considered reaching for her. Just a quick touch, professional. …Okay, maybe not professional. No, I wanted to kiss her. Pull her into my lap and brand her as mine.
The crunch of footsteps on gravel pulled me out of the moment.
Leo Martin appeared at the gazebo entrance, arms folded, jaw set in that perpetual half-smirk he thought was charming. He wore a faded blue work shirt, sleeves rolled, exposing powerful forearms from hours spent loading and unloading fertilizer and potting soil.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, making it clear he wasn’t. “Need Ms. Blake for a vendor issue.”
Eden straightened, ready to go, but I beat her to it. “Can’t your people handle it?”
Leo’s eyes slid to mine, cold and unreadable. “They could. But you made it clear you wanted her in charge.”
His gaze flicked to Eden, then back to me. The challenge was obvious. It made my blood run hot.
I stood, squared my shoulders. “Give us five minutes.”
Leo lingered, then left, heavy on the heels, broadcasting his irritation.
Eden watched him go, then turned to me. “You really hate him, don’t you?”
“He’s unprofessional,” I said.
“You’re jealous,” she corrected, and the word landed like a punch to the sternum.
I considered denying it, but she was right. I hated the way Leo looked at her, the way he hovered around her in the staff kitchen, the way he spoke to her as if they were equals.
I was jealous, and it was eating me alive.
Eden shifted, but I caught her hand before she could stand. The shock of contact was electric, so much so that I almost let go. But I didn’t.
She stilled, eyes wide. Waiting.
I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to pin her to the bench, fuck her until neither of us could walk straight, then kiss her again just to remind myself that it was real. I wanted to brand myself onto her skin, so that every time she looked in the mirror she’d think of me.
Instead, I just held her hand. My thumb traced the line of her knuckles, slow and deliberate.
She was shaking, just a little. “Gareth,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
I leaned in. Just enough to feel the heat of her breath on my lips. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
“Try me,” she said, and her cheeks went pink.
I would have, right then and there, if not for the return of Leo’s footsteps, deliberately louder this time, communicating his approach.
Eden pulled her hand free, flustered, and glanced around as if to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. “I should go,” she said, eyes on the floor.
I nodded, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
She left, quick on her feet, and I was alone in the gazebo, hands shaking, the scent of her skin lingering on my fingertips.
Leo appeared at the threshold, looking smug. “Everything okay here, boss?”
I glared at him, the urge to fire him on the spot almost overwhelming. “If I see you hovering around her again, you’re gone. Do you understand?”
He shrugged, all false bravado. “Whatever you say.”
But as he turned to leave, I saw the flicker of fear in his eyes.
I stayed in the gazebo as hours slipped by and the world moved around me, but I felt frozen in the moment. Only when the light went soft and the shadows grew long did I snap out of my thoughts. My head ached, my chest was tight, and my hands still remembered the shape of her.
I’d almost lost control today. Almost given in.
But there was tomorrow, and the day after, and the reunion to get through.
And I knew, with absolute certainty, that the next time she smiled at me, I was done for.