Chapter 36
ALARIC
My blood pressure is undoubtedly hitting dangerous levels.
If I’d adopted the habit of wearing a fitness device like so many of my acquaintances, it would be sounding the alarm over my raging vitals.
I’m being irrational, yes. But that self-awareness does nothing to quell the poignant jealousy coursing through my veins.
Yanking my seat belt loose, I open the buckle and rise to my feet.
“Evangeline.”
Her head snaps up, the thin red hoops dangling from her ears swaying with the motion.
“I have some questions about the content categorization from the recent social listening data collected from the grandstands,” I say. “Can we speak about it in private?”
Her brows fly into her hairline, then as my request registers, she gives me a shrewd look.
She wasn’t in the grandstands on Sunday. My request is bullshit. An excuse to get her alone. An attempt to get my head on straight.
I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.
It’s risky, catching her off guard with a baseless claim.
She told me she’s an awful liar, and she prefers directness and clear communication.
On top of that, it’s arguably certifiable to ask for a private audience in front of other team members within the confines of this plane.
But if I have to witness her smile at or exchange quips with the guys from the culinary team for even one more second, I fear I’ll lose it and do something outrageous like pull her into my lap or kiss her senseless so they all know she’s mine.
Finally, mercifully, she nods. “I’m out, boys,” she tells the men who have commanded all her attention over the last half hour, pushing her cards toward Ethan or Evan or whatever his name is.
Typically, I make it a point to learn the names of every member of our team. Though at this moment, with my composure hanging on by a single, fraying thread, I can’t find it in me to care.
I snatch my laptop from my seat, and as Evangeline approaches, my palm instinctively finds her low back. I guide her toward the private suite in the back of the plane, stalking closely behind.
When we approach Mick, he raises both brows, his focus darting from Evangeline to me.
Scowling, I drop my hand from her back.
Mick and I have known each other for more than two decades. He’s a good friend, but he’s also most likely to call me on my bullshit and see right through this charade.
I need to be more careful.
Funny, I was so worried about how unfair it would be for Evangeline for us to keep things casual and professional when we’re out in public. I hadn’t even considered how maintaining this farce could quickly become my personal brand of torture.
“Through there,” I murmur, placing my hand on her low back once more and guiding her to the private sleeping quarters.
She pushes the door open, then whips her head around to hit me with a saucy smile.
I cock one brow and urge her all the way into the room before she can share what I’m sure is a quippy remark.
Once the door is closed, I spin her and place her back against it. Then I crowd her space, resting one arm beside her head and bringing my face mere inches from hers. Like this, I could easily kiss her.
And fuck do I want to.
I really, really want to.
But I won’t. There’s risk, and then there’s stupidity. Even coming back here alone with her is enough to spark suspicion in an idle mind.
Instead, I say, “Why are you dead set on torturing me today?”
Her bright blue eyes widen, the playful smile wiping clean off her face. “Me? Torturing you?” she asks, her tone laced with panic.
This isn’t her being coy. She’s genuinely taken aback by my accusation.
I ball my hand in a fist, fighting like hell against the urge to grip the back of her head, pull her to me, and kiss her senseless.
“I don’t mean literally,” I grit out. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thrown that at you without context.”
Expression softening, she brings a hand to my jaw.
“You apologize a lot.”
Caught off guard by the subject change, I search her face. “If I mess up or upset you, I owe it to both of us to acknowledge that and apologize.” Softer, I add, “I haven’t dated anyone in a long time, so I suppose I’m a bit rusty. But I promise I’ll always be fair and forthcoming.”
I haven’t been in a committed relationship in over a decade.
Not since Sophie. Sure, there have been dates and the occasional hookup with women I was sure had no idea who I was or what I did for a living.
But for over ten years, I’ve been too busy, too dedicated to my work, to put effort into a relationship.
I’ve remained hyper-focused on Granata, climbing the ladder and being a good leader.
Though my mindset has shifted drastically lately.
In a matter of weeks, Evangeline has turned my world upside down.
She’s broadened my capacity to care for more than just my work.
She’s expanded my definition of happiness.
While I’m still as focused on my job as ever, it’s no longer my sole priority.
The new and improved version of what I want in life includes her.
“I won’t always get it right,” I tell her softly. “But you can always count on me to apologize when I fumble and to learn from my mistakes.”
She lets out a shaky sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a partner apologize to me like that before.”
That statement is followed by a wince as she no doubt realizes the same thing I have over the last few days: she’s never been with a partner worthy of her. It irks me to no end, yet it makes me more determined than ever to be the kind of partner she deserves.
“Thank you for sneaking back here with me,” I say, allowing myself to relax a fraction. “It was irrational to request a private audience… but apparently, I’m uncharacteristically irrational when it comes to you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the content analysis, is there?” she surmises.
“There’s not. But what I said is true. Watching you out there is a special form of torture,” I tell her. “You have no idea how deeply you affect me. I can’t even begin to describe how it feels to sit back and pretend to work while you smile and laugh with those guys.”
She nibbles on her bottom lip, head tipped back, examining me. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
She drags her hand down my jaw to my neck, then over my chest and abs and even lower still.
Before she can pass my belt line, I capture her hand.
“We can’t.” I press my forehead to hers, cursing the schedule issue or technological malfunction that created this disaster of a situation.
I had grand plans to be alone with this woman on this flight. I wanted to set the mood for the next week. To enjoy her company ahead of our arrival in Monaco.
Instead, I’m playing the role of respected, buttoned-up team principal while trying to ignore the way every breathy laugh or sassy remark out of her mouth goes straight to my balls.
“I know. I’ll behave.” She pops up on her toes and pecks my cheek.
“Just until we’re alone,” I amend.
She lingers, ghosting her lips over my neck so I can feel the warmth of her exhale.
“Yes, Mr. Steele. Once we’re not on a plane surrounded by your employees…” She trails one finger up my chest this time, scraping over my Adam’s apple, then cuffing the side of my neck. “All bets are off,” she whispers, lingering in my space, teasing me with her proximity.
I’m consumed by her, my thoughts jumbled, when she turns, opens the door, and strides through without another word.