Chapter 26
26
Theo
T he issue with giving my darling wife my credit card to buy lingerie is that I can see, and imagine, every store she goes to.
The first charge pops up that afternoon when I’m eating lunch. Jonah is in my office, scowling at his phone, eating a wrap from a diner that Callie made him try. Made being the operative word. He’d eat the same damn thing every day for lunch without her.
I choke on the bite of my own sandwich, and Jonah’s head jerks up.
“Don’t die,” he warns. “I can’t replace you.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly, but Jonah’s concern warms me.
The charge is for $497.54 from a store called Blushing Beauty. I furtively google it. It’s a boutique on Madison Avenue, and a quick glance at the photos shows wisps of lace and bras that look about as substantial as clouds. There’s a black lace thong with a keyhole back, and I imagine hooking my thumb under it while Cat gasps in surprise.
Fuck .
I shut the site and do my best to focus on the investor meetings we have today. Lorenzo is our prospective joint venture partner, but we still need new investors for the European properties. I refuse to fail, not when I’m already on my back foot.
A second charge comes in between meetings. $156.14.
I text Cat.
Theo
Only $150? The card has no limit.
Cat
I didn’t like the options they had.
Theo
Like what?
I hit send before I can think better of it, and my stomach tightens in anticipation.
Cat responds with a photo of a black bra that is all wire wrapped in black satin, no cups.
Fuck.
Theo
Seems fine to me.
It seems better than fine, actually. It seems designed to make a man crazy. I drop my head into my hands and will my erection down.
When I look back up, there’s another text. Don’t look. But, of course, I do.
Cat
I want better than fine. I want to feel beautiful.
I pocket the phone before I say something stupid, like you are beautiful or show me . Or worse, offer to help her in person.
I stride down the hall to Jonah’s office, where he’s reviewing a document and sipping a sparkling water.
“I need you to punch me,” I tell him.
He puts the paper down slowly and lifts nearly black eyes to meet mine. “It’s three p.m. I try to reserve brutalizing my business partners for after hours.”
“Please,” I say.
His gaze sharpens before he stands and heads into the hall.
“Cancel my three thirty,” he tells George.
George grumbles something about saying please before Jonah and I head up to the gym together.
“What’s going on with you?” he asks, wrapping his hands while I wrap mine. Nervous anticipation rolls underneath my skin.
“If I tell you, are you going to go all Miles on me?”
“Bossy and invading your privacy?” He snorts, but he’s smiling faintly. “Unlikely.”
“It’s Cat.” I slip on a pair of the gloves we keep up here and secure the Velcro.
“I suspected as much,” he says crisply. At my brow raise, he sighs and ducks under the ropes of the boxing ring. “You’re distracted.”
Shit. I can’t afford to be distracted. I need to be on top. “I’m sorry—” I start.
Jonah waves his gloved hand in the air. “I’ve been there. Believe it or not.”
“With Callie you mean?” The parallel I’m drawing is an uncomfortable one. Jonah is obsessed with Callie.
Saying her name is the best way to make him soften. “Yeah,” he says, with a smile. “I didn’t get much work done when she was in the office.” He rolls his shoulders as I bring my gloved hands up. “So, what? You like her?”
“I don’t know. I shouldn’t.”
“Right.” He nods, beginning to move. Jonah is quick on his feet and quicker with his hands, which is why he was an excellent boxer before he became a businessman. “Because of the past.”
“Yep. And because of who I know she is as a person,” I say. “I told myself I’d never go down this road with her. I did once before, and it ended miserably.”
“But you can’t help it.” He gives me a knowing look before he feints the jab. I raise my fist to block, and he smirks, still weaving .
“Yeah, I guess not.” I blow out a breath. “What if she’s not who I thought she was? She has goals. She wants to take over Peterson International. She’s not a partier. She’d rather stay home and read than go out. She has this bucket list…and fuck , I don’t know.” Something inside me crumples at the thought of the experiences she put on it. She’d kill me if she knew I felt sorry for her. “She didn’t know how to drive. She asked me to teach her.”
Jonah pauses, his gaze assessing. “And you did.”
“Yeah. I told her I’d help her with the whole list, actually.”
His brows go up. “That was kind of you.” He starts to move again. “What happens if she’s not who you thought? Are you going to pursue her?”
Pursue Cat.
“No.” I give a small, bitter laugh. “Not a chance in hell. She doesn’t want me. She never has. That hasn’t changed.” You could turn on me at any moment. Yeah, Cat doesn’t think very highly of me at all, and something grinds in my chest. “I was a fling for her. A walk on the wild side.” Like I am for so many women. “I’m not going through that again.”
“Ah. Fair enough.” Jonah’s voice is cool and accepting. And that, more than anything, makes me want to punch something.
“Miles would tell me to go for it,” I say bitterly.
“Miles is emotional,” he responds.
“It’s for the best,” I say.
“If you say so,” he says. “Want me to punch you now?”
“Try not to look so excited by the prospect.”
He snorts. “No tapping out, only passing out, right?” The rule I created for our fight nights in the ring.
I grin at my friend. “Stop talking and hit me.”
Jonah hammers a punch to my stomach and one to my side, so hard that I stumble back against the ropes and gasp for air like I’m a fish on land.
Something tells me this isn’t the last time I’m going to need him to do this.
That night in the kitchen, I’m putting groceries in the fridge and glancing in corners to see if Cat left a bag of lingerie somewhere.
“You shopped.” Her voice comes from behind me, and I force myself to turn slowly. “I thought you no longer needed food to live.”
She’s leaning on the kitchen counter, dressed in a soft sweater, her hair twisted over her head. I glance her over helplessly, searching for any hint of her new underwear.
I should never have gone down this road.
“How was school?” I ask. I turn back to the fridge and start pulling out the prepared meals I purchased from the obscenely expensive grocery store Miles sent me to.
“How did you know I had school?”
“It’s Thursday. You have class every day except Monday, and you work the afternoon shifts on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.” I shut the fridge. “Do you want to have dinner with me?”
Cat is watching me with assessing eyes. “Sure.”
I slide her a beer and plate the steak salads while she watches me.
“This is disturbingly domestic,” she says when I sit at the kitchen island with her.
“You’re surprised?” I cut into my food.
She shrugs, and her sweater slips. My mouth goes dry around the steak. “I assumed you got most of your calories from tequila and chocolate cake. And yet, the six-pack says otherwise.”
“You counted?”
“Your abs?” She sips her beer. “How could I not? Half of Manhattan counted them on your roof last weekend.”
“Right. When you were jealous.”
She spears me with a look, and I laugh softly. Her sweater slips further to reveal her bare shoulder.
“You’re not wearing it?” The question pops out, and I wince. Smooth .
“Wearing what?”
“The, um, lingerie. ”
“Oh.” She blows out a breath. “I don’t know. I thought I wanted it, but now it seems silly. And I’m not sure if it’s me , you know?”
My face must betray my confusion, because she says, “Of course you don’t know. You’ve never been shy a day in your life.”
“You’re not shy.” I frown at her.
“Not with you.” She rolls her eyes. “But did you see me at the party? I was frozen before Lane rescued me.”
An ache starts in my chest. She did look uncertain. I’d thought she was disapproving, not nervous. “I should have introduced you to people.”
“It’s fine. I admire your ease with people. You’re lucky to be so charming.”
“I am?” Charming sounds like an insult to me, not a compliment, and it’s something I hear often.
“Are you kidding me?” She gives me an incredulous look. “You could probably be president if you wanted to be.” She sighs. “But no, something feels off about the lingerie. It doesn’t suit me. Or it fits weirdly. I’ll probably return it.”
“Don’t return it.” My words tumble out. Her brows go up. “I mean, ah, if you want me to help you with it, I will.”
Idiot. You’re an idiot.
“Because you’re an expert,” she says.
“Well, I have seen a lot of lingerie.”
She rolls her eyes again, but she’s smiling.
“Sure, okay. I’ll bring it down.” She stands, and I stand too.
“No need,” I say. “I’ll come upstairs.” I follow her up the stairs, through the hushed, art-lined hallway, and into her bedroom, my pulse thudding loudly in my ears.
This is, without a doubt, the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
Cat is going to destroy me, and I’m going to jump into the fire myself, hoping it won’t burn me and enjoying it right up until the moment I incinerate.
“You moved things around,” I say, glancing in surprise at the armchair and side table she pulled under the window. Her bed is neatly made, her possessions aligned carefully on the bedside table .
“For reading,” she says absently. “What do you think of this? Is it too much?”
She thrusts a black teddy into my hands, fidgeting as I turn over the mess of delicate lace and thin straps.
“When would you wear this?” I ask.
“That’s the thing. I have no idea.” She wrinkles her nose as I look down at her, delicate, lovely, and uncertain. “These items are meant to be worn for someone else. I had some idea that I would wear them for myself , but now it seems silly.”
“I don’t think that’s silly,” I say, my voice coming out rougher and harsher than I intend. “It’s good to do things for yourself. Just ask me.” I give her a grin I hope is cocksure and arrogant rather than full of longing.
She blows out a breath. “I’m going to show you. Don’t make fun.”
She steps into her dressing area, and I force my mind to other things.
Spreadsheets.
Investments.
The project I want my mentee, Kai, to start next week.
Not the way my wife’s ass will look in black lace.
When she steps out, standing awkwardly on the rug, the reality is so much better than I could ever have imagined.
The breath leaves my chest in an audible rush.
“It’s bad, right?”
She lifts uncertain eyes to mine. She really doesn’t know how she looks. A wild laugh builds in my chest, but I know that’s the worst possible thing I could do.
“Bad isn’t the word I would use.”
“Theo,” she protests.
I swallow away my dry mouth. She’s a fantasy brought to life. The lace cups her breasts, feathering over her pale skin. I want to trace it with my tongue. The straps on her shoulders are barely there. I bet I could rip them. In fact, I bet I could tear the whole thing in half. I curl my fingers into my palms.
“Turn around,” I growl .
She huffs a breath but complies. The matching underwear bares the perfect globes of her ass, with a stripe down the center of each swathe of skin, created by the satin of the teddy. I want to snap each strap against her skin. I want to span her waist with my hands and bite her shoulder and drink in every little sound she’d make when I made her come.
I can’t move. I ache with want for Cat, and it’s worse than I imagined it would be. This is a box I might not be able to close.
“Theo. Come on. Just tell me if it’s bad.” She whirls, eyes flashing. “I don’t appreciate being messed—”
“Cat.” I lift my gaze to hers. “When I look at you, I feel like I can’t breathe.”
“What?” Her mouth parts in surprise.
“Keep the lingerie,” I say gruffly, then I walk out.