Chapter 36 Buffet of Betrayal
Buffet of Betrayal
— T ODAY —
I rush up the stairs. Unsurprisingly, Ian follows. That’s it. I’m pretty sure his dad is the devil himself—a handsome Hollywood version of the devil with too much savoir faire and not a shred of conscience.
“Amelie?”
No. I can’t talk to Ian. Not before I understand. Roberts definitely knows about my past with his son, but did he know at the time he came to my restaurant? And if so, what sort of sick game is he playing?
“You know me well enough to have gathered that I won’t let this go,” he says, following me through the corridor. “So how about you stop running away and tell me what’s going on?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. My heart is beating so fast, it’s hard to walk in a straight line. He can’t know what happened between his father and me. I’ve known it since the moment I figured out Ian was actually Ian Roberts. This is something I’ll have to bring to the grave. More than that, I’ll have to actively work for him to never ever find out.
I need to pull my shit together and protect him, the way he’s always protected me. I won’t let him lose his father after he’s lost his mother already.
“Really?” Ian asks as I halt by the door, then grab my key. “You need more proof of my persistence?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” I attempt a smile, but it’s obvious he doesn’t buy it for a second. Opening the door, I enter the room, where Barb is packing up.
“Hey!” she says cheerfully, then, noticing the expression on my face, her smile falls. “What’s up?”
I throw her a desperate look just as Ian comes to stand in front of me, and, catching on to my silent plea for help, she addresses him. “Oh, Ian, do you mind? I need to take a shower and—”
“Sorry, Barb, but yes. I mind.” He gives her an apologetic smile, then turns to me again. “What’s going on, beautiful?”
Fine. There’s no escaping this. Turning to Barb, I ask, “Can you give us a minute?”
“Of course. I’ll shower later. I’m kind of hungry anyway.” She moves past us and, with a questioning look at me, leaves the room.
Once she’s gone, I focus on Ian. He’s done so much to keep me sane. To protect me, to make me feel special and loved.
If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll protect him from this.
“So what’s going on?” he asks, his forehead creased. “Why did you look so uncomfortable with my dad?”
You can do this, Amelie.
Casually shrugging, I move past him and go to the kettle. “You know. I’ve said things about your dad, your restaurant. And my father—he hates him.”
“That’s it?” he asks as he comes to stand next to me. His eyes scout my face, probably looking for signs I’m lying. “Is that why you were being weird?”
“It’s just… complicated.”
His fingers wrap around my wrist when I move to grab the bottled water on the nightstand. “Amelie?” he asks, his shoulders squared and his brow low and determined. “I know we haven’t really… talked. About us and what happens after tomorrow. But…”
Shaking my head, I walk back to him and set the kettle down. “No, your father has nothing to do with us. I understand that, I promise.”
“Do you? Because it doesn’t look like it.”
Great. Now, instead of suspecting there’s something more than what meets the eye, he thinks I don’t want to be with him because of his dad. I swear to God, I’m the worst liar in the world.
Running my hands along his arms, I look up at Ian’s gorgeous face. At his high cheekbones and the perfect curve of his lips. At the long lashes encircling his eyes, the freckle on his forehead. He’s my perfect.
“Look, I know our families haven’t always—”
My lips crash on his, my fingers desperately gripping his hair when he leans back a little. I wrap my other arm around him, and in a second his shoulders relax, his mouth responding to mine as he pulls me closer, then holds me in place.
It makes it better. It reminds me of who I’m doing this for. Us.
“Hmm— melie ,” he mumbles, but without giving him an inch of space, I pull him to me and step back until we reach the bed, where my fingers fumble with the button of his jeans. “Amelie, wait.”
“I need you,” I whisper as he keeps his face just out of reach. His eyes dart to my lips, and after a second of hesitation, he kisses me, his tongue swiping mine as we lie in bed.
Rising to his knees, Ian grasps the sides of my top and pulls it over my head. I do the same with his shirt, the intricate black tattoos on his arms distracting me and slowing my movements.
I lean forward to whisper in his ear, “I want you in my mouth.”
He releases a shuddering breath, then kisses my shoulder. “That can absolutely be arranged.” The sting of his teeth biting my neck fades away as he licks the same spot. “Get on your knees, beautiful.”
Eagerly, I kneel on the red-carpeted floor. He unbuttons his jeans, his eyes studying mine, then takes his cock out with a breath of relief. I can feel the warmth coming off it, and my mouth pools with saliva at the thought of giving him pleasure this way. Of seeing him lose control because of me.
Once my mouth closes around him, he groans, his muscles contracting as all restraint fades from his face.
Unpopular opinion? It’s better than an orgasm.
My eyes open, the alarm of my phone deafening me from the bedside table. I lunge for it, then confusedly look for the snooze button, until I realize it’s not the alarm but a phone call. Ian.
Turning to the side, I see he’s not where he should be, and I’m immediately struck with panic. After Ian and I had dinner with Barb, we slept together in his room last night, so where is he?
“Hello,” I say grouchily before clearing my throat.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.” I pull the sheet around me, then step on the fluffy floor. His tone’s definitely off, and it immediately sends me spiraling. Walking to the chair, I find my clothes—which last night were thrown everywhere around the room—neatly folded. “Where are you? What’s going on?”
There’s a long sigh. “We need to talk.”
Holding the phone between my shoulder and my ear, I step into my panties, tugging them up clumsily. My throat closes up, and I have a feeling I’ll want to be dressed for the next part of this. “Ian? Are you dumping me by phone?”
“Dumping you?” he scoffs. “No. Why would I dump you?”
“You said, ‘We need to talk,’?” I scold as I maneuver myself into my shorts and hop on one foot to pull the legs up. “That’s the universal code for ‘I’m about to break up with you.’?”
“Okay. And what do I say if we need to talk?”
Once my shorts are buttoned up, I sigh. “I don’t know. You… you just say what you need to say.”
“Fine. So can we discuss—”
“Where are you?” I ask as I grab my T-shirt.
“I… I’m somewhere safe. Seriously, Amelie, we—”
“Somewhere safe? Safe from what?”
“From you?” He laughs. “You keep jumping on me every time I try to talk to you, and I’d be thrilled if I wasn’t pretty sure you’re trying to avoid this conversation. And you keep doing that thing with your voice and, holy fuck, you have me in a choke hold every time.”
On my way to the restroom, I stop. “Which thing with my voice?”
“That thing. You know. ‘I need you.’?”
“What? I use emphasis?”
“No, not emphasis.” There are birds chirping in the background, so he must be outside. “Your voice gets all raspy and low. And you bite your bottom lip. I just want to pull it free and then push my thumb in there and feel you suck—you’re doing it again!”
“I’m not even speaking, Ian,” I say as I enter the bathroom. “Where are you? I’ll come to you.”
“Patio. But no sex, Amelie. Not for… ten to fifteen minutes. Twenty, maybe. Until we’ve talked.”
“I’ll even give you half an hour.”
“All right. I’ll get you a coffee.”
“See you soon.”
“Hi,” I say as I step onto the patio.
Ian, sitting with his back to me, turns around, sunglasses on and a wide smile on his lips as he takes me in. “Good morning, beautiful.”
I move closer, lean forward, then stop. Studying his face, I narrow my eyes. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes. No. Wait—” He puts his hand behind my head and pulls me closer, then stops before my lips are on his and cocks an eyebrow. “No tongue. I don’t trust you.”
As I giggle, he presses his lips to mine, his tongue swiping past and finding my own. The hypocrite. His fingertips rub my scalp as my arms loop around his neck, and with a low moan he pulls me onto his lap.
“You’re doing it again,” he whispers as he rests his forehead on mine. Quick breaths burst out of his lips, his shaft hardening under my ass.
He must realize I’m doing nothing at all.
“Sorry,” I say as I gently kiss his cheek, then stand. I grab the cup on the table, then take a long sip as I sit down. “Did you have breakfast already?” I ask when I notice only one plate of food.
“Yeah. I met my dad.”
Oh, shit. I nod with fake enthusiasm, then tone it down when I end up nodding like a bubblehead doll. “Great. Great. How—how is he?” Which is to say, did he finally grow horns?
“He also isn’t giving me the full story.” Ian’s arms are crossed over his chest, and with a reassuring smile, he asks, “Will you?”
“Ian, I promise, there’s nothing to say,” I repeat for the millionth time since yesterday. No matter how much I insist, he won’t believe me. Turns out that him knowing me so well is a real inconvenience.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He sighs loudly, nodding as he turns to the large daisy field beside us. “Fine,” he says, holding his hand out for me. “Today’s the last day. ICCE will be over tonight.”
I entangle my finger with his. “Martha’s wedding is tomorrow.”
“And you still haven’t invited me.” His eyes narrow, and then he squeezes my hand tighter. “And then… then I’ll be back in Mayfield, and you’ll be in Creswell.”
I nod, my heart beating out of my chest.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’m physically able to let you go,” he says matter-of-factly. “I know we agreed to one night only, but seeing as you didn’t relent with your texts despite my lack of response, I assume you’d also be okay with—”
I’m too befuddled to manage the mechanics of speaking, so I nod dumbly.
“Yeah?” He smiles. “Good. I’m not exactly sure what’s the best move here. It both feels as if I’m coming off way too strong and not strong enough. Like you’re a stranger and… well, my soulmate, all at once.”
Did he say… soulmate?
“See, I probably shouldn’t have said that.” He rubs his jaw, then sighs deeply. “Amelie, I’m not here to see how it goes. I don’t want to play it cool, and keep you on your toes, and tactically think about whether I should text you, and wonder when it’s the right time to tell you how I feel or if I should wait for you to do it first.” One side of his lips pulls up. “I want all the cards on the table. I want to show you my hand, and I want to be as transparent as I possibly can. If that’s okay with you.”
I know I need to get some words out, but, God, is it difficult. Of course it’s okay with me. It’s more than okay. I don’t want to pretend I’m not desperately in love with him; I’ve lied to myself and him about it already for months. I want him to show me his hand, and I want to show him mine, and I want to pick this back up exactly where we left it.
It’s Ian.
He’s my soulmate.
“I’d rather be your girlfriend than anyone else’s wife” is all I can say. I get his feeling, his fear of coming off too strong, but the words fall naturally out of my lips. It would be pointless to deny it when it’s all I’ve been wanting to tell him for the past six months.
His fingers entwine with mine, a full smile taking over his whole face. “I’d rather be your husband than be single ever again.”
I can’t help the tears welling up in my eyes. Husband . That word—the whole concept of marriage—is no longer my dream. Not the way it was before, at least. But knowing he’d do it for me means more than words can express.
“So… do you want to go back to texts and calls and phone sex? Because I don’t.” His fingers rub mine. “Not after having you with me for a whole week.”
“No, of course I don’t want that.”
“Hmm. So we’ll have to decide. Creswell or Mayfield.”
Oh, hell no. I want nothing to do with his father. “I don’t—I don’t think I—”
“Huh.” He taps his chin. “See, you’re looking as green as a vegetable, Amelie.”
“Ian, I don’t know what you’re after.” I cross my arms. “There’s nothing to say. I know your dad is the most important person in your life, but it’ll take me a minute. I was taught to hate him and… there’s a lot of history.”
“In the spirit of this ‘all cards on the table’ policy… is there any chapter I’ve missed?”
When I glare, he raises both hands in defeat. “Fine. Well, I really hope you’ll try. I know things have been said and done during the years, but you’re right. My dad’s really important to me.”
“I know. I’ll work on it.”
His head tilts, and, taking his sunglasses off, he levels his warm azure stare on me. “All right.” Throwing his sunglasses onto the table, he motions at me to move closer, and as soon as I’m within reach, he pulls me onto his lap. “But just so we’re clear. My dad isn’t the most important person in my life, Amelie.” He presses a soft kiss on my lips. “You are.”