Chapter 31
AVA
“You lied,” I repeated as he followed me into the empty elevator. The sides were wood-paneled, and mellow yellow light softened the mood. “I can’t believe you went so long without telling me that there’s a chance my mother’s restaurant will never be revived.”
“Did you kiss someone?” Desmond asked. “Someone else?” he persisted.
“Why do you care? This is just a two-week fling, isn’t it?” I asked aggressively as I pressed the gold-plated button to the second floor. I needed to get to the break room and waited for the doors to close. It was taking its time.
“Because, Ava, I damn well am not sharing you with someone else. That’s why. And, yes, I held something back about the restaurant. Is that really what you want to talk about right now?” he asked.
I turned to him as the music from the speakers in the ceiling panels of the elevator wafted down to us.
There was an intense moment when, despite people walking past the still-open elevator doors, Desmond directed a look of such longing at me that I felt a little of his pain.
A pain I’d felt for the longest time. Of wanting something you couldn’t have.
“Yes, Des, it matters tremendously. Because I just learned that the man I had been sleeping with doesn’t trust me.”
He drew in a deep breath.
“And I didn’t kiss Otto. Bianca was just trying to stir up trouble.”
His shoulders fell. “Shit,” he said, looking upset.
His eyes flicked to me, repentant. “I’m sorry for questioning you, Ava,” Desmond said, pressing the close-door button on the elevator, and then he cleared his throat as the elevator finally moved.
This time, he looked back at me with a sort of restrained hunger on his face.
“And there is a chance we might build a hotel there instead,” he said.
“I’m sorry about holding that detail about your restaurant back. ”
It was my turn to be bullheaded now. “Sorry that you lied or sorry that you got found out?”
He grunted and shook his head with a snort. “What kind of question is that? Of course I’m sorry that I lied.”
“When were you going to tell me?” I asked, not giving up.
“Ava, let’s not do this now,” he muttered under his breath.
That’s not an answer.
I groaned in frustration, and he put one hand on the wall and the other on his hip as he stared at the floor in silence.
Then, he ran a hand through his hair, looking agitated and restless. I fought down the urge to go over and clock him on the head with my handbag and turned away to stare at the back wall of the elevator.
Why was he so frustratingly stupid? Why had we gotten involved when we’d already hurt each other before?
“Sweetheart,” he said while I stood with my back turned to him.
I covered my eyes with my hand and took a few deep, calming breaths.
My mom had been right. Working for someone else gave them an unfair advantage over you. A power to ruin your career should it suit their needs. I was making the same error she had done years ago.
“You know what?” I said as I turned around to face him. “This thing between us”—I gestured to the two of us—“was a mistake. One that shouldn’t happen again.”
The look he gave me was one of disbelief. “What?” he asked.
He covered the short distance between us and pulled me to him, my hips melding to his. His arm curved around my waist, keeping me in place. “We are not a mistake, sweetheart.”
As if to prove his point, he bent his head and put his lips to mine in a deliriously sensual kiss, his touch sending sparks down my body. When he stopped and rested his forehead on mine, I drew a deep breath and stepped back, reality swooping in instantly.
The jerk.
This time, I really did slap my purse against his chest. A fly could have swatted him for the difference it made.
He chuckled and took hold of my hand, giving me a squeeze. “I’m going to say it isn’t my kiss you’re mad about.”
Of course he would.
“Your confidence hasn’t taken a beating, I see,” I said wryly, stepping back, even as his fingers massaged my palm.
He gave me a long, lingering gaze. A speculative, quiet one this time. One that harked back at a distant memory. The grip on my hand got stronger, as though he was afraid I might pull away.
“It did,” he breathed out. “Ten years ago, when I left you.”
He turned away, but not before I caught the look of regret on his face. Ten years ago, he’d made a decision. A decision that had affected both of us. One that had obviously troubled the two of us.
Why were we going through it all over again?
There were no words to describe how lonely and isolated you could feel in the company of a loved one.
We stood side by side, unable to express our affection for each other, unable to be honest with one another, just because of the differences in the power in our jobs.
He was always going to have this internal tug-of-war.
Trying to choose what was best for the business or what was best for me.
I decided to make the choice easy for him. I didn’t want to see the man I once loved struggle all over again.
I stood up straight and looked ahead at the elevator doors. “I’ve decided,” I said. I turned to him, and my voice was even. “Our kiss was a mistake.”
The elevator doors opened, and I blinked away the tiny pinpricks of tears as I got out on the second floor and made for the break room.