34. Ariel Cambridge
Chapter thirty-four
Ariel Cambridge
I’m going to kill him.
I look down at the pesto ravioli on the plate in front of me. Actually, I’m going to eat all of this pasta, cry in my car to a Wyatt Parker breakup song, and then I’ll kill him.
Brock didn’t show. He told me he would be here, and thirty minutes into the event, he’s nowhere to be found.
I’ve had to fend off sharks since I arrived.
At first, I said he was running late. That worked for a little while, until the faux pity smiles came out.
The same one Houston is wearing right now.
He’s sitting across from me at the table, as if he planned it.
Who am I kidding? He probably did. I’m sure he spent last night coming up with a list of veiled insults to throw my way.
I made it easy on him. He doesn’t even have to insult me. Brock not showing is enough.
“Do you need to check on him?” Bethanne. Dear, sweet, naive Bethanne, asks beside me. I foolishly told her I got a real date. If Brock would have shown up, maybe I would have considered it one.
My plastic smile thins as I try to hold in my tears. I can feel my cheeks getting hotter and hotter with embarrassment.
“No, he had something come up, is all. It’s a private matter.” I manage to keep emotion from shaking my words.
“I hate that he’s not here,” Houston says with a smile that contradicts his words. “I was looking forward to talking to him again.”
“Maybe next time.”
I wish I could go home. But if I do, Houston will think he had an effect on me.
I’ll be seen as even weaker than before.
So here I sit, using every ounce of my strength to keep my composure.
I let my gaze float around the ballroom.
Tables line the walls, while a large opening is left in the center for dancing.
Maybe there’s an open seat at a different table.
I could switch while they’re bringing out the dessert course and everyone is distracted.
A door opening on the opposite side of the room catches my attention. My heart leaps to my throat. Brock stumbles in, wearing a rumpled suit with his tie hanging loose around his neck. I stand and our eyes lock. He smiles. I do not.
“Is that him? He made it after all!” Bethanne cheers.
I don’t respond or even spare a glance at Houston. I storm across the venue floor over to Brock. His eyes widen when he sees the look on my face.
“I know I’m late–” he starts.
“Don’t,” I hiss and shove his chest until he runs into the door. He lets me push him out into the hallway. The door closes behind us with a slam.
“I’m sorry, things took longer than I thought, but I realized I wanted to be here more,” he says, still wearing a smile.
“I told you how important this was weeks ago,” I say, and his face crumples at my hurt. “I shared the way Houston made me feel. You saw for yourself the type of guy he was, and you left me here to fend for myself alone . And for what? So you could get another deal?”
“I’m sorry, I should have been here on time. But I’m here now. We can go back in there and I’ll make a big show of apologizing. Whatever you want.”
He pushes a shaky hand through his messy hair. When he does, I notice a pink mark on his cheek. I step to where we’re almost touching and grab his chin. A kiss mark. My anger becomes an inferno.
“What are you doing?” he stutters out.
“Is this lipstick?” I ask, venom coating my voice. “Were you out with someone? Is that why you were late?”
“No.” He scrubs at the side of his face with the sleeve of his jacket. “No, this woman kissed my cheek at the party and I almost vomited.” He wipes the mark off. “I didn’t know that was there.”
I let go of his chin. Our eyes lock, and I let every emotion come to the surface. The fire, the hurt, my feelings for him, all of it. I don’t hold back a single thing.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Why do you care if it’s true or not?” he throws back.
I grip the lapels of his jacket and glare at him. “You don’t get to ask me that. Not after you made me think you weren’t coming. I had to sit there and tell person after person you were running late. Do you know how pathetic I sounded?”
His gaze softens. “I really am sorry, Ariel. I shouldn’t have been at that party at all. I know that now. I should have come home from LA as soon as the issue was solved.” He closes his eyes. Anguish twists his features. “My life lately has felt like a running list of things I should have done.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I wanted you to be here. Why didn’t you at least warn me?”
He grimaces. “Because I’m an idiot who left his phone in New York. I wanted to go back and get it, but by the time I realized I didn’t have it, I knew that I’d miss the whole event if I tried.”
I let go of his jacket and cross my arms. “Do you expect me to believe you left your phone somewhere? You, who can’t go anywhere without it?”
“That’s not fair. I’ve changed,” he says.
“You told me before you left that you hadn’t!” I raise my voice.
“Well, I lied!” He matches my volume. “I lied because I was upset and scared that I lost all that I’ve been working for since college.”
“And then what? You jetted off to LA and New York and partied and flirted with other women until it just dawned on you that you’d rather be here?” I shake my head. “I’m not buying it.”
“No, I worked myself to death in LA and went to New York for a deal that could change my career. It was right within my grasp.” He holds his palm up in between us.
“And then I thought of you . Of the way you look when you first wake up and how you smile when you insult me. I thought of everything you said about what legacy I was leaving behind.” He closes his hand into a fist and drops it to his side. “And I left.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I hug my arms tight around myself to keep it together. If I let go, I’m not sure yet if I’ll hug him or slap him.
“I want to believe you,” I whisper.
“I don’t think you do,” he says.
My head rears back. This man has a tendency to say things that warrant a stiletto to the shin. “Excuse me?”
He grabs me by my hips and pulls me to him. I place my palms against his chest to catch myself. Our faces are centimeters apart. His eyes are a mesmerizing swirl of gold and brown.
“I think you don’t want to believe me because you’re scared of what it would mean if you do.”
“That’s not true. I’m just not sure that you’ve admitted how wrong you’ve been this whole time,” I say, because I can’t think straight when he’s so close.
“I’ll admit you were right about everything if you admit you were jealous of another woman kissing me.”
I gape. “I-I was not.”
He raises a brow. “Come on, Duke.” He hovers his mouth above mine. My face heats. “Admit it. The thought of someone else kissing me kills you. The same way it does me when I think about you with another man.”
I suck in a sharp breath at his admission.
There it is. The answer to the question in my mind about how he felt, laid flat like cards on a poker table.
Desire melts my core like hot caramel over a sundae.
I stare into his eyes. I can see the hunger in them.
The aching want that matches my own. And yet, as is our way, I can’t let him win that easy.
“It doesn’t bother me at all.”
“ Liar .”
He crashes his lips into mine. I kiss him back as though I’d been waiting this whole time–maybe deep down I have. One of his hands slides up the curve of my spine to grip the back of my neck. The other presses hard into my lower back, forcing me to arch into him.
I pull back. “Stop manhandling me.”
“I will when you stop liking it,” he breathes out before capturing my mouth in another searing kiss.
I push him backward to prove that I can take control.
He smirks against my lips as he hits the wall.
My victory is short-lived, because he immediately flips us around so I’m the one pinned against the wall.
His hands slide up and down the curve of my waist, and all thoughts of competition–of anything but him–melt away.
He parts my lips with his tongue. The first taste of him is bright and sweet, like biting into an orange slice at the start of spring.
His heart pounds against my palm. I savor the notion that it’s racing because of me. Brock’s fingers dig into my hips, eliciting a hum from deep within me. I lift my arms and push my hands through his hair, sifting through the silky strands.
The sound of a door slamming shut makes me freeze. Brock quickly breaks off our kiss and steps back. His hair is mussed and his eyes are wild and he’s breathing hard.
My eyes flick around the hall, but whoever interrupted us is already gone.
I press my fingertips to my swollen lips. Words fail me as I meet Brock’s molten gaze.