Chapter 7 The Human Sexual Response #3
“Yeah. I don’t want him bothering you guys. And Andreas’s apartment is like a fortress. I have security and everything, so I don’t want to mess things up. Plus, Andreas can auto-lock the door so I don’t sleepwalk outside the apartment.”
Kaitlyn frowned. “I don’t know, I feel like someone needs to stay with you.”
“One of my bodyguards, a nice gal by the name of Tara, will probably sleep over while Andreas is gone.”
She brightened. “That would make me feel better.”
“Anyway,” I said, eager to steer the conversation away from my trainwreck sleeping habits, “speaking of Henrik, he said something fishy when he was on the other side of the glass, trying to goad me out of the building.”
Kaitlyn perked up, eyes wide. “What did he say?”
“He said my dad was a coward. But it was how he said it, you know? Like he had experience with my father, working with him, or some firsthand knowledge.”
“Did they ever work together? At Genetix? How old is Henrik?”
I’d already done a little research on this, so I rattled off, “I think Henrik is not quite ten years older than Andreas, so that would make him something like thirty-five now, twenty then. I did a little digging and Henrik interned at Genetix while in college, under Oskar, who was the CFO at the time.”
Kaitlyn’s eyes narrowed. “That’s something worth exploring. Do you think Henrik had something to do with the fraud charges against your father?”
“It’s possible, right? But what could Henrik do as an intern?
I’ve tried looking into the fraud charges before—if you remember, it’s why I wanted to go to law school, to understand what happened—but since those charges were dismissed after my father died, the only resource for the proceedings are the board minutes at Genetix, when my dad was voted off the board and stripped of his shares. ”
“Let me tell Martin about this. He has people and can look into it without drawing any attention. Maybe he can reach out to Genetix about investment.”
I grimaced. “I don’t want you guys getting involved. These guys are dangerous. And you have Joey now and everything is so good between you two. I’ll handle it.”
Kaitlyn was about to say something else, but the click of a cabinet and the sudden clatter of plates announced the return of the menfolk from the kitchen. We exchanged a look that promised: to be continued.
Martin entered first, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
He dropped onto the couch beside Kaitlyn and, with the world’s least subtle body language, nudged and positioned her until she leaned against him—her back to his front—and his arms came around her torso.
She didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she was just used to it.
Andreas followed and as soon as he entered the room, my heart took an aching leap toward him.
That same buzzing, electric tension ignited beneath my skin whenever we were in a room together and suddenly I was fighting to breathe normally.
I was still mulling whether to warn him about Kaitlyn knowing the engagement was fake when he sat next to me, placed his arm around my shoulders, and pulled me closer to place a kiss on my forehead, the motion transferring a staticky jolt through the blanket to my skin.
“Andreas.” Kaitlyn lifted her chin toward him. “I was wondering, do you own your mother’s compositions now? Or, are they being held in a trust? A musician I work with tried to obtain licensing rights a while back but ran into a dead end of lawyers.”
“Oh. Uh, I am not surprised.” He gave his head a small shake. “My mother’s music is part of my father’s estate. When she died, as her husband, he inherited the entire catalogue.”
“I see . . .” Kaitlyn’s gaze shifted to me and she wisely let the matter drop. She knew my history with the Kristiansens.
“I am sorry to say, I have to be going soon.” I looked at Andreas and found his eyes on me as he leaned back, gaze dropping to my mouth. Then, unexpectedly, he bent forward and placed a light kiss on my lips, stunning me momentarily speechless.
“Oh. That’s too bad,” Kaitlyn said, but her voice held a smile.
I turned my head to glare at my best friend. Her pretty gray eyes twinkled as they moved between us.
“My flight out leaves in three hours.”
Finding my voice, I asked, “Do you need to go home first and grab your bag?”
He shook his head. “No. Elio has already collected it. He will call me when he is downstairs.”
As if on cue, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out with his right hand, still keeping his left arm draped around me.
“That is him now,” Andreas said, with a slightly apologetic tone. “I should go.”
Martin pushed himself up, and Kaitlyn followed. I started to stand, but Andreas caught my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then rose to his feet with a grace I envied.
Andreas exchanged goodbyes, with Martin giving Andreas an actual hug instead of a bro-hug, which surprised me, and Kaitlyn embracing him with genuine warmth. When it was my turn, Andreas hugged me tightly and, into my hair, murmured, “Will you walk me down?”
I nodded, and he released me. To Kaitlyn, I said, “I’ll be right back.”
We walked out of the apartment, and when we entered the elevator, he faced forward.
The ride down was spent in silence, my head all over the place.
In the lobby, he grabbed my hand again as we crossed to the vestibule.
A black Mercedes idled at the curb, headlights cutting twin blades of white through the early darkness.
Once we were outside the building, he stopped suddenly and turned to me. “Sam.” His voice was quiet and almost swallowed by the sound of New York traffic, his eyes seeming to search mine. “We should kiss goodbye, just in case someone is watching.”
Surprised by the suggestion, I opened my mouth to reply. But before I could, he kissed me. Not the kind of peck you’d give a fake fiancée, but the kind of kiss that made my toes curl in my boots and threatened to melt my knees into the sidewalk.
At first, his lips were warm and sweet, but the press of his hands on my back felt hot.
Once the immediate surprise wore off, my brain told me to make the most of this moment, and so I did.
I slid my fingers up into the back of his hair and kissed him deeply, wondering if he could taste my selfishness or the urgency in how my tongue sought his and explored his delicious mouth.
He groaned, yanking me closer, and the kiss turned hungry as he angled his head to one side, chasing my mouth even though I wasn’t going anywhere.
Fireworks exploded in my stomach. I loved how tightly he held me, how every pass of his lips felt like a demand rather than a request, and how his hands shifted lower with each passing second until they completely palmed my backside.
When he pulled away, he didn’t step back immediately. He rested his forehead against mine, breathing in, breathing out.
“I will really miss you,” he whispered, so low I wondered if I’d imagined it.
And then he was gone, striding to the car, slipping inside, and leaving me on the sidewalk feeling like a pin had been yanked from some critical axis in my chest.
I blinked around the sidewalk, trying to get my bearings and not knowing what to expect, but nobody had been watching us.
Or, if they had, they were pretending not to now.
I spotted a couple guys in suits, loitering by a hot dog stand across the street.
I recognized one of them as the security detail, which made me feel a little safer.
As the Mercedes pulled away, I watched the taillights for a long time, then turned back to the lobby, planning to squeeze a few more hours of friendship out of Kaitlyn before returning to my own fortress. And, maybe, to my own self, if I could figure out who that was anymore.
The elevator doors opened and I paused, thinking about what Kaitlyn had said. About the way I was acting. About how, even after everything, the person I wanted to talk to was the one who’d just left.
I pressed the button for the penthouse, and as the elevator climbed, I found myself grinning, stupid and secret, at the thought of seeing him again, already counting down the days until he returned.
It wasn’t until I was right outside of Kaitlyn and Martin’s door that the bubble burst on the fantasy.
This is fake. That was fake. Everything about us is fake.
Fighting to draw in enough air past the tightness in my chest, I couldn’t help the traitorous thought: Then why does it feel so real?