Chapter 20
AURELIA
By the time I got back home, my hair was damp from the afternoon drizzle and my boots were squeaking on the marble lobby floor. I was still mentally replaying my mother’s endless debate over ice sculptures versus champagne towers for the ball when my doorman stopped me.
“Miss Van Alen,” he said carefully. “There was a gentleman here for you earlier. Tall, fancy suit. Dark hair. He left in a bit of a huff.”
My stomach dipped. “Did he leave a name?”
He shook his head. “No, he didn’t want to leave a message either, but I saw his car out front. Aston Martin. If that helps.”
Aston Martin. Right. Of course, it was Harrison who’d showed up here uninvited.
I pulled out my phone the second I stepped into the elevator, dialing him before the doors even started sliding shut. It went straight to voicemail, though. When I got to my floor, I tried again, but with the same result.
Worry started gnawing at my gut. He’d shown up here unexpectedly, left in a huff, and now, his phone was off. I chewed on my lip, a strange, instinctive kind of restlessness taking over. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I’d already turned around and headed back to the elevator.
Harrison’s townhouse was diagonally across the street from my own building. Practically close enough that I could throw a stone at his windows if I wanted to—and if my apartment had faced to the other side, but still.
Neither of us had ever addressed that fact, probably because it was far too convenient, far too tempting. But right now? It was exactly what I needed.
The drizzle had turned into a full-on downpour in the few minutes I’d been inside, fat cold drops soaking through my coat by the time I’d crossed the street. I was wet, freezing, and already furious when I started pounding on his door.
“Harrison!” I called over the rain, thumping hard enough my hand hurt as I cowered under his awning. “I know you’re in there and it’s cold out here. Open the damn door.”
For a few long moments, there was nothing. Just the rain drumming against the awning overhead. His car was parked in front of his garage, which was why I’d assumed he was here, but he didn’t have to be. He might’ve walked or taken other transportation.
Seconds away from leaving, I snapped my gaze back to his front door when I heard the lock turning. The door swung open to reveal Harrison, but he was disheveled. I hadn’t known him for very long, sure, but this seemed very uncharacteristic.
His hair was mussed but not artfully. His shirt was untucked and his eyes were shadowed like he hadn’t slept in days. He leaned one hand against the frame, looking both exhausted and irritated, like I’d interrupted something private.
I blinked at him, dripping rain all over his threshold. “There you are. Hello to you, too. I heard you came by my place. Can I come in? I wasn’t kidding about how cold it is out here.”
There was no lazy grin this time. No smirk and no smartass comment. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all. I stared at him for a beat, rainwater dripping down my neck and the sound of the storm rolling in swallowing up the silence between us.
He didn’t move or say anything. He just looked at me with those gorgeous but unreadable eyes. I frowned, my heart starting to pound wildly in my chest.
“What’s wrong with you?” I finally demanded, but it was still much gentler than I’d meant for the words to come out. I waved a hand at him, my gaze drifting lower to take in what a mess he was. “Why do you look like you didn’t sleep last night and you were having an afternoon nap in your suit?”
His mouth ticked, but not into a smile. At least he finally stepped aside to let me in, but the quiet intensity he was exuding made nerves twist in my stomach. “Oh, by the way, I got you the invite to that ball. As my plus-one. My mom doesn’t know it’s you, though. I told her—”
Before I could finish, his hand shot out, catching mine. He tugged me inside with such sudden force that I stumbled. The door slammed shut behind me. I landed with a thud against his chest and felt a strong arm banding around my hips.
“Harrison—” I barely got his name out before he turned us around, pressed me back against the inside of the door, and kissed me.
It wasn’t careful or tentative. It was desperate, like a release of emotions he’d been bottling up for years. My breath caught in my throat, shock rippling through me even as my hands fisted in his shirt.
Everything else, the storm, the ball, and even our mothers and their ancient war disappeared in that single, searing moment. All I could think was that this was supposed to be a business arrangement. We were friends who were forging an alliance.
Nothing more.
So why do I suddenly feel like my heart has just been set on fire?
His mouth was crushed against mine, and suddenly, I wasn’t thinking anymore at all.
I was just moving, kissing him back like my body had been waiting for this without telling me.
His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, pressing me harder into the door until I could feel every line of him against me.
My fingers tangled in his hair and he groaned when I tightened my grip, the sound low and rough. He tasted faintly of whiskey, but there was something else there, too. Something I supposed was just him, a sweetness I couldn’t quite place.
The rain pounded on the roof, the wind picking up until the windows rattled a little bit, but mostly, all I could hear was my own pulse hammering in my ears. Harrison’s body felt too good against mine, towering over me despite the fact that I was still wearing heels.
He licked the seam of my lips, kissing me like he’d been denying himself and hadn’t been able to wait even another second, and I let him. I parted my lips and melted into him, letting the heat and the weight of him against me erase every rational thought from my mind.
Between us, the ring seemed to be burning against my skin, as if it had magical powers that were being ignited by the kiss, but I knew that wasn’t true.
I knew that it only felt that way because we were getting married and we were finally giving into the connection that had been brewing between us since the very first day.
Until now, I’d thought those two things were separate, the marriage and the connection, but as his tongue swept into my mouth and another groan vibrated through him, I knew I didn’t want it to be. In that moment, I wanted everything with him, the business, the future, this.
I tightened my grip on his hair, moaning when I felt him shiver against me. My heart was doing leaps and jumps, every nerve ending sparking to life with longing to take this further. I didn’t know if I wanted to beg him to take me to bed or shove him away and demand to know what this was.
A voice in the back of my mind was screaming at me to put a stop to this, stubbornly insisting on reminding me that this wasn’t part of the deal. Harrison and I were supposed to be all about business, dreams, and goals.
Friendship was as far as we should go on a personal level, or else we would risk it all falling apart.
But as his hips rolled against mine and frissons of pleasure shot through me, I didn’t want to stop.
Harrison was tall and fit, his shoulders broad and his arms strong.
I could feel how hard he was all over and my mind conjured up all sorts of images of him—on top of me, behind me, underneath me.
From the feel of things, what he was packing wouldn’t be a disappointment in relation to the rest of him.
In fact, it felt like he was perfectly proportional, but there was still that annoying voice, shouting unnecessary reminders that I did not need to know that about him and absolutely should not be imagining him naked.
When we broke apart, he was the one to break the kiss. For one wild moment, I just looked up at him, breathless and torn between wanting him and being pissed off about what had just happened. So I did nothing.
Harrison’s forehead dropped to mine, his chest heaving but his eyes closed. There was a furrow in his brow that I could feel against my own, like he was fighting himself about something too. It made me think I wasn’t the only one who was torn in half.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
The apology sliced through me sharper than a knife. He’s sorry? Sorry for what? For kissing me, or making me never want him to stop?
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, quieter this time, as if the words were meant more for himself than for me.
I stood there, my chest rising and falling too fast, my lips tingling, my coat still damp from the rain. My thoughts scattered in every direction, my emotions as out of control. I wanted him something awful, the ache inside not stopping simply because he’d pulled away.
Anger was brewing deep within too, though. Overall, I just felt confused as hell, and I still didn’t even know why he’d come over to my building in the first place.
But he’s sorry, so there’s that.
I should’ve said something back. Maybe I should’ve just laughed it off, teased him, or done something else to cut through the sudden tension between us. I couldn’t do any of that, though. All I managed was a stiff nod before my hand found the doorknob behind me.
“Goodnight, Harrison,” I whispered, my voice foreign even to my own ears.
I slipped out into the rain, closing the door in his face when I felt him move to follow me. The downpour soaked me again, but at least it cleared my head as I ran back across the street and a little ways down the block.
What the fuck was that?
When I’d agreed to marry him, it had been an arrangement. A business deal. We’d come up with a strategy and we were following through with it.
We had an empire to build and this was the way we were going to do it. It would’ve been safe, manageable, and controlled. Hell, promising me no drama and no messy breakups had been one of the most convincing points of his sales pitch.
That kiss hadn’t been business, though. Not one little bit.
Last night’s kiss had been a spur of the moment sort of thing, a mere brush of our lips that had felt like a slip. What had happened between us a few minutes ago had not been that. God, I’d nearly started stripping his clothes off, for heaven’s sake.
What was Harrison’s objective with that? Was this an actual marriage or a business deal? Because that kiss had made it feel like it was moving toward the real thing, and that was not what I’d signed up for.