Chapter 19
19
Cat
I ’d never admit it, but I’ve been dreading this event. I’m grateful for the dress and the way it makes me stand a little taller. I feel like a gladiator entering the ring—ready to face my fate with my chin held high.
“Theo. If there’s more gossip—”
“I know.” His hand on mine tightens. It’s comforting. Theo might be my fake husband, but he won’t leave me behind. Not tonight, at least. I’m grateful to be part of the bubble that surrounds him as we enter the ballroom. He gets us champagne from a passing waiter, and I try not to stare at him as he takes a long swallow.
Theo in a tux is dangerous to any woman’s health. He should come with warnings. Staring directly at Theo Archer in a bow tie may cause heart palpitations, difficulty breathing, and a sensation of heaviness in your limbs. His sun-streaked hair is full of product that keeps it pushed off his face. And with his high forehead bared and his cheekbones sharper than usual under the lights of the event, he looks like a king. A wicked king with the way he’s smiling as he looks around.
“Don’t tell me you actually enjoy things like this,” I say before sipping my own champagne. It’s good. Not great, but good. Charities never spring for the really expensive stuff. It’s a fine line to walk between pleasing your donors and appearing fiscally responsible.
“You don’t? But they’re so fun. So many ways to get into trouble.” He winks, and my stomach flutters. Add stomach flutters to the list of symptoms. And dry mouth, while you’re at it.
“Trouble? No, it’s more like…the perfect place to hear people talk behind your back and mock your outfit. Boring conversation and counting down the minutes until it’s over.”
“You’ve never been to one of these with me,” he counters. “Stick with me, princess. I’ll show you a good time.” His gaze goes over my shoulder. “There’s Lorenzo. Come here.”
I step closer.
“No, closer, darling.” He purrs the last words, and the flutters turn into freefall. His hand lands on the small of my back, a heated weight through the wool of the dress. “Pretend to like me, Cat. Can you blush on command?” He smiles at me, and I’m frozen.
I’m surrounded by Theo—the scent of his cologne—citrus and amber—the heat of his body, the weight of his gaze.
“I don’t think so,” I say faintly.
“You’re a crappy actress, darling. I guess I’ll have to do this all on my own.” He sips his champagne and brushes his thumb under my jaw. “I like your dress tonight. You look like a queen. An angry, vengeful queen.”
“I don’t mind that.”
His smiles grows. He leans in, splaying his hand against my back and pushing me into his hard body. “I like that image too,” he whispers in my ear. “But if I had my way, there’d be no dress. You’d be naked, just like you were earlier. You can keep the bracelets, though. Those are hot.” Heat is swirling in my stomach at his words, the reaction I know he wants. He’s doing this for show. He wants to make me blush and squirm, and I’m there. I’m so there. “Imagine it. You with just your jewelry and that pretty black thong you had on earlier. Straddle me, baby. That’s it.” His voice goes low and rough, and holy shit , the underwear Theo is talking about is wet. I know I’m blushing, because my chest is hot and my pulse is pounding.
“That is never going to happen,” I whisper, smile firmly in place. “I’d rather sleep on your roof than be naked on your lap.” I have to regain control. Poke at Theo before he totally drags me under.
“Oh, baby,” he breathes. He pulls back. His cheekbones are red, and his eyes are bright. “Don’t tease me. No, don’t step away.” He laughs softly and tightens his hand on my back. “I went too far, and now I’m dealing with…unintended consequences.” He flashes me a naughty smile.
“You’re hard,” I whisper.
His erection jumps against my stomach in agreement. “I so am.” His grin is unrepentant.
“You better hope it goes away before your investor comes over.”
“Quick, tell me something boring.”
I laugh, and he groans.
“No laughing. You’re too pretty when you laugh. Talk to me about your least favorite class in school.”
“But there are so many,” I grumble. “Negotiations, corporate finance, the primer we had on mergers and acquisitions.”
“Keep going. Tell me about the time value of money. Wait, don’t. That will turn me on.”
I burst out laughing, my shoulders shaking, and press my forehead into Theo’s chest. “Sorry,” I gasp. “Sorry. You said no laughing.”
His palm lands on my neck as his own laugh rumbles up from his chest. “It’s okay. I’m good. But let me help you with school, okay? If you’re that miserable. I was good at it.” He rubs his thumb over the back of my neck.
When I look up at him, his expression is sincere.
“Sure,” I say slowly. “Thank you. But if I get anything less than an A, I’m blaming you.”
“Fair enough.” His thumb rubs over my neck, right above the high collar of the dress. His smile fades slowly, and his eyes soften.
He looks like he’s about to speak, but then we hear “Theo Archer. Is that you?” A smiling man in a tux approaches. His eyes are sharp and intelligent. His wife is small and pretty, with round cheeks and a big smile.
My body goes tense, but Theo reacts by pulling me into his side. “Lorenzo. So good to see you. And this must be your wife, Francesca. Molto piacere, signora. This is my wife, Catherine.” He speaks to Francesca in rapid-fire Italian for a bit, and Lorenzo laughs. I try to keep my jaw from dropping. Theo speaks Italian. Theo sounds Italian.
“Congratulations on your marriage, Catherine.” Lorenzo and Francesca go for cheek kisses after a minute, and I fumble through them. Francesca smells like lemons, and Lorenzo like expensive cologne.
“So, Catherine, how did you convince this one to settle down?” Lorenzo winks and jerks his thumb at Theo.
Theo’s eyes go flat for a moment before he smiles. “It was easy,” he says with a wave of his hand. “She crooked her finger at me, and I came running.”
I blush, because that couldn’t be further from the truth, but Lorenzo and his wife laugh.
“Well, I’m glad to see it,” Lorenzo says. “We were worried, you know. For the casino part of the company, your image is an asset, but for the infrastructure investments, we have to look proper. You know, for the casta who control the government, even though they are far from proper.” His accent thickens with obvious annoyance, and his wife puts a hand on his arm.
“Ignore my husband. How did you meet?” she asks.
My tongue is thick in my mouth. “We reconnected at a charity event like this. For, um, youth.” Great job, Cat. That sounds believable.
Theo’s hand squeezes my waist. “Cat and I are childhood friends. I let her get away once, but when I saw her after so many years, I knew it couldn’t happen again.” Theo’s smooth words are a lie.
I stiffen against him. I let her get away. Bullshit. He ran away as far and as fast as he could, and he never gave me a reason. I force my shoulders down and lean into Theo like he’s my rock instead of the boy who broke my heart. I have no right to be mad at him for it, because we were nothing. Friends who kissed once. As I learned, Theo kissed lots of girls that summer. I was nothing more than a passing fancy for him, and I mistook friendship for more.
“That’s so romantic,” Francesca sighs, her eyes soft. “You really turned him around, Cat.” I’m sure she means it in a nice way, but the thought rankles.
“There was nothing to turn around,” I say with a smile. “Theo isn’t the man a lot of people think he is. I’ve always recognized it.”
Lorenzo’s eyes light with approval, and I feel Theo relax against me.
“How are you enjoying New York?” I ask. I’m done answering their probing questions.
“We love it. We come here every year for Fashion Week, but Lorenzo is usually working. It’s been so nice to be tourists together. Is there anything you two like to do? We’re always looking for recommendations.”
I dart a look at Theo. We do nothing together. Shit.
“Hockey games,” he says slowly. “Cat is just getting into it. My brother plays for the Royals.”
“I love it,” I say. “All the fights. And the, um, skating.”
Francesca’s brow wrinkles. Here’s hoping she’s not a hockey fan.
“We love to try new restaurants. There’s a new Japanese restaurant on 68 th Street that serves a fantastic omakase. Very hard to get a reservation, but I can call them for you if you’d like to try it.” Smooth. “Cat loves their seasoned rice with raw shrimp and uni.”
My stomach turns, but I keep my face impassive. I can’t stand uni, but Theo wouldn’t know that. “Delicious,” I murmur.
We make painful small talk for a few minutes before Theo and Lorenzo promise to set up a meeting for Monday about the casino expansion Kings Lane wants to fund.
When they walk away, Theo and I both sag.
“That was bad.” I look up at Theo. His green eyes are rueful.
“It could have gone better,” he admits. He tugs on my hand. “Let’s dance. See and be seen. Come on.”
“Do we have to?”
“You’re supposed to be my willing and lovely wife, remember? ”
“More like your willing victim,” I mutter, but I let Theo drag me from the cocktail area into the main ballroom. There are more people here, and my heart thuds uncomfortably. My body knows there’s danger here.
“It’s packed,” Theo says. “Stumble a little.”
“What?”
“Don’t fall. Just look like you twisted your ankle.”
“In front of all these people? Theo, please. I’m going to look like a fool.” I hate this. I hate all of these social climbers who dropped me like I was diseased and it was catching. The voices seem louder as we walk by little clusters of women dressed like jeweled birds. I can feel the weight of their eyes, judging and finding me lacking.
“Trust me,” he says.
I stutter step and fall against him. My ankle twinges. “Ouch. Shit, okay. That actually hurt. These heels are stupid.”
Theo’s already turning, running hands up and down my arms. “You okay?”
“No.” I test my ankle. “I actually think I hurt it.” The ribbons that hold these stupid shoes to my feet are coming undone. “I need to sit and fix the shoes at least.”
“I got you, baby.” He winks at me, his eyes playful but his soft mouth serious. He squeezes my shoulders and then sinks to one knee on the floor of the ballroom.
“Theo. What are you doing?”
His warm fingers circle my ankle where it’s exposed through the thigh-high slit of the dress. “Helping my wife.”
He looks up at me, and I suck in a breath. His eyes are hot and determined, and suddenly, I’m free-falling with nothing below me. The rest of the ballroom fades as he strokes my skin. Each touch zings straight to my stomach.
“Where does it hurt?”
“It’s fine.” The pain is already fading. “You don’t need to—okay, sure.”
He’s already untying the ribbons, unwrapping me like I’m his present on Christmas morning. His brow is furrowed. Real or fake? It’s getting harder to tell, and I’m so unbelievably fucked. Because with Theo on his knees, calling me pet names and skimming hot palms up my leg, I can’t deny it anymore.
I want to sleep with my husband, and I’m not sure how much longer I can resist him.