Chapter 50 #2
“Sterling! There you are. Hiding, as always.” Out of the crowd appears a beautiful woman. Her thick blonde hair is cut into a very flattering bob, and the silky silver dress she’s wearing is making me question my sexuality.
I smile. This industry is too small to not start off on the right foot. “Hi. We haven’t met. You must be …”
She finally notices that there’s someone standing beside Sterling and holds her hand out. “Alexis.”
Over the next fifteen minutes, I learn a lot of things.
Alexis York is the new me at The Observer.
She’s sick of servers recommending tiramisu at every Italian restaurant—which …
what? She’s single, she’s clearly interested in Sterling, she doesn’t ask either of us a thing—I’m pretty sure I’m invisible to her—and she will not stop talking about herself.
One glance tells me Sterling is in hell.
“Oh my God,” I say, touching Alexis’s elbow mid-sentence and turning her away from Sterling. “I can’t believe he did that.”
“I know! Unbelievable, right?”
Her attention successfully diverted, Sterling makes his escape, taking off in the direction of the balcony.
“I know! And then I said—”
“Would you excuse me?” I cut in. “I just remembered I left my cat by himself, and I need to go check on him.”
It’s not a complete lie. Sterling’s about as friendly as a leopard. Silent. Solitary. Mysterious.
Thick curtains block the bulk of the chill from outside, and I slip through, eager to escape the cloying fog of aftershave for a breath of fresh air. The balcony is empty, save for one man. His broad back to me, one hand shoved in a pocket, Sterling looks out over the city like a dark protector.
“Don’t worry,” I say, coming to stand beside him. We don’t touch, but we’re close enough that we could. “She’ll learn how antisocial you are.”
He huffs a laugh. “I’m not so sure.”
“I did.”
“Alexis is not you.”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so gruff before. I’ll take that as a compliment?
The city glitters before us, reflecting off glass and steel like fireflies in spring. From here, the party is muffled, leaving us encased in quiet. Sterling’s natural state.
“In a weird way, this reminds me of home,” I say softly.
He shifts, and I feel his gaze on me like a caress. “You’ve come a long way since the front page of the Ferntree Gazette.”
God, how does he even know that?
“You should be proud of yourself.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
“I am.” It comes out defiant, but I’m not about to apologize for it. Not to him or anyone.
When I finally look at him, I see the hint of a smile.
Jeez, he’s confusing.
“Do you ever regret the choices you’ve made?” I ask him, turning back to the view.
Four million lives occur simultaneously around us, unique from each other. How many are happy right now?
“Some,” he says. “It’s hard for me to trust people. To let them see me.”
It’s more honest than I expected from him.
“You’re different tonight.”
The hint of a smile cements into something real. “Lachlan has reliably informed me that the surgery was a success.”
“Surgery?”
“To remove my head from my ass.”
Oh.
“Congratulations.” I raise my drink, a mirror of how he greeted me earlier.
“I’m sorry for what happened with Monica.”
In a night full of surprises, it catches me off guard. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Don’t I? I wasn’t exactly welcoming to you.”
That’s putting it mildly. “I was new and very enamored with the star reporter,” I admit. “I can see why you’d want to distance yourself.”
“That wasn’t why, Mia.”
A flush rushes to my cheeks. God, his voice is so low, like the rumble of thunder during a storm.
He steps closer, his jacket brushing my arm. Goose bumps spread like wildfire. I finish my drink. The air is thick, humid. It clings to my skin.
He’s still looking at me. Why won’t he stop looking at me?
“The office misses you.”
I laugh. Sterling Ross has a funny sense of humor.
“No one misses me.”
“I do.”
I finally turn to him. “Sterling, you never talked to me. I wasn’t sure you ever knew I existed.”
“For as long as I’ve known you, I’ve been aware of little else.”
Whatever I was about to say, it’s stolen by his admission.
I shake my head. “I don’t understand you.”
“Yes, you do. It’s not complicated. Why do you think I’d say these things?”
I know why. Of course I do. I’ve known since Lucky teased me about him. Since Zia mentioned Monica being fired.
I just don’t know how to accept it. It sounds … like I’m dreaming. Like I’m going to wake up right before the good part and have my heart crushed.
“You’re interested.”
Pleasure is written all over his face. He’s proud I figured it out.
“All this time?”
“Avoiding you isn’t something I’m proud of, but at the time, it seemed like the best defense.”
“God, you’re an asshole.”
“I’ve been told.”
I’m sure he has, by Lucky if no one else.
“But you hate me.”
“I would sooner hate my own heart for beating.”
I brace my hand on the balustrade while my understanding of him shifts and changes like sand in a storm, rearranging itself to fit the man in front of me, the one gazing down with open interest.
“What does that even mean?”
Sterling cups my cheek. “Let me show you.”
Lucky appears, sliding in behind me, and I look up, expecting Sterling’s mask to return, but it’s not there. No, there’s only heat in his eyes. For me. For Lucky. It’s lightning in my veins.
I know Lucky feels it, too, because his voice has the same gritty edge it gets when we fuck. “You know there’s a party going on,” he says. “But I can see it’s much more interesting out here.”
“It is,” Sterling agrees. “But I think it’s time we took Mia home.”
“Great idea.” Lucky slips his arm around my waist, pulling me tight against him. His breath is hot against my skin. “How about it, love? Is that what you want?”
“You know what I want.”
He hums. “Yes, but I think Mac here should hear it.”
Sterling’s eyes are blown black. “Tell me, Mia.” His shoe knocks against my heel as he presses himself closer. “Be good for me.”
I crush my eyes closed. It’s all too much, and I don’t want to wake up yet.
Someone’s thumb—must be Sterling’s—slides along my jaw, tilting my head up. I let the words escape, ready to see where tonight will lead. Ready to follow anywhere they want to go.
It should split my heart in two, wanting them both, each calling to a separate side of me, but it’s the opposite. A fusion of every part of me, light and dark and everything in between. Like opening a door and discovering a room I never knew existed. Like magic.
“Take me home,” I say.
* * *
They’re perfect together.
yes! now show me the epilogue (go to 90)
go back (go to 41)