15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Everything about Heron Lounge reminds me of a mystical oasis. Sleek, clean concrete lines seamlessly blend with earthy, warm wooden accents. And withered, brass lighting fixtures hang from the sloped ceilings. For the size, it doesn’t feel overly small, the whole restaurant giving off an intimate vibe instead. Elegant high-back chairs line one side of the tables, while plush two-seaters fill the other, the luscious marigold colour complimenting the soft lighting.
It’s too late to make a run for it, and it’s impossible to hide, not in a restaurant where I can easily see from one side of the room to the other. Alden spots us right away. More importantly, he spots me. His eyes go wide as he takes me in. Me and my underdressed attire. Fuck, I really should have turned Wendell down because I stick out like a sore, completely awkward thumb.
And this awkward thumb is steps away from coming face-to-face with her casual hookup, whom she hasn’t spoken to for a week and a half. This is so beyond fine it doesn’t even register. I’m totally not freaking out.
“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” I spit, eyeing Wendell as he continues to escort me through the restaurant. I look down at my frayed black tee, noting the small holes near the hem, and my less-than-appropriate yoga pants. My skin crawls when I see all the other well-dressed people in their suits and pencil skirts. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”
Wendell doesn’t respond, only snickers at my mini freak out. Alden’s face tells me that seeing me in this restaurant is the last thing he expected tonight, and I can honestly say the same. I didn’t see this coming, not after what happened between us. And I have an inkling that if he knew what Wendell was up to, he would’ve found an excuse to make himself scarce.
Alden rises from his seat, standing tall, so damn tall I almost forgot how towering he is. Wendell pulls a chair out for me as I stand there, staring at Alden. The two of them wait, apparently for me, and I look at Wendell. His brow lifts, encouraging me. So I sit, thoroughly ignoring Alden’s eyes on me.
“Look who I found,” Wendell says, a little too chipper for my taste, as he slips into the chair across from me.
My whole body is attuned to Alden beside me, of his proximity, of the heat radiating from him. It’s as if just being near him like this is enough to scramble my brain. I take a quick look at him, who notably hasn’t said a word, before I look away. Alden’s expression is dim, almost miffed, if I had to guess. And all I know is that I feel like I’m imposing where I don’t belong.
Alden’s stare is burning a hole in the side of my face, which does nothing to dispel my worries. It just makes me more anxious. But I ignore him and pay attention to Wendell. All he does is let out an anemic grunt at Wendell, which makes his stance on me being here and crashing their dinner crystal clear.
“I was just telling Monroe that we were about to order,” he tries again, trying to get Alden to engage with me, to make something other than an incoherent noise. “Why don’t you let her look at your menu?”
Alden gives Wendell a look I don’t miss before he obliges, sliding his menu in front of me. He abruptly stands, tossing his cloth napkin onto the table. He doesn’t look angry, more restless.
“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
Wendell’s mouth pops open in awe, like he can’t believe his friend could be that rude. But I can. Alden has been nothing but rude. God only knows why I slept with him. Add that to the long, long list of regrets I have. Alden takes off, escaping to where I assume the bathrooms are. I wait a minute before I get up, too, fed up with his whole “I won’t tell you what’s wrong, but I’ll make sure you know” attitude.
If my being here really is such an issue for Alden, then I’ll go, but not before he tells me to my face instead of storming off like a child and leaving me to figure it out for myself.
“I’ll just…” I hitch a thumb behind me, slide my chair back, and wander in his general direction.
If I thought the rest of the restaurant was dimly lit, the tight hall I’m in is practically pitch-black. I can’t see much, let alone my hand in front of my face. My fingers brush against the wall as I continue stumbling around in the dark. I squint to make out a form coming out of the bathroom. As I inch closer, I narrowly run them down.
Alden holds his hands up. “What are you doing?” His face is engulfed in virtual darkness, but from what I can decipher, he’s surprised.
I guess it’s not every day one gets accosted right outside the bathroom.
“Coming to find you.”
He raises his eyebrows like he’s kind of amused. “In the washroom?”
Oh, god.
“No, I-I mean, technically, yes, but I was just making sure everything was okay—” I’m rambling, just now aware of how excruciatingly close we are.
He flashes a crooked smile before it disappears.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay, Monroe?”
“Because of the other day…” I start, hoping he catches on so I don’t have to spell it out, “…in the elevator.”
His face pales. “What about it?”
He really doesn’t want to make this easy for me. Ever since that damn day in the elevator, I don’t know how to look at him. I don’t know how to be around him. His panic attack gave me a glimpse of a different side of him I had never seen before. The moment of pure vulnerability and fear shook me to my core. Alden is supposed to be a hot, shallow asshole I slept with once.
But I’m beginning to see that I was naive to think there isn’t more to him. The man behind the iron curtain is definitely not like that. It doesn’t undo all the bad blood between us, but now I see him in a whole new light.
“I wasn’t going to bring it up, but—”
He cuts me off. “Stick with your gut and don’t.”
I’m about to tell him off, but I stall when I take a closer look at his face. It’s like someone just wiped the fog off the mirror because I can see everything that doesn’t fit. How Alden carries himself a little too tall, almost rigid. How each word is like he’s rehearsed them a million times before he even speaks. And the way he acts like two completely different people. I see it now, and there’s no denying it.
I stay quiet, choosing to draw him out rather than add fuel to the fire. Alden’s eyes remind me of a deer caught in headlights, a timid animal who’s trying to get a sense of the situation. His hand finds my wrist, the softness of his touch disarming.
My pulse spikes. “You’re touching me.” I point out, like he isn’t aware of it.
“I couldn’t help myself.”
“So, you’re okay?” I feel his thumb gently stroke my pulse point, and my breath catches in my throat. “I thought I was making you uncomfortable.”
“Do I look uncomfortable right now, Monroe?” His voice is huskier than it had been a second ago.
It’s how Alden says my name, like he gets a deep satisfaction from letting it roll off his tongue each time, seeing how I react, that has my mind staggering to catch up. A sharp, potent shock races through my body, bounding up my sternum and settling between each rib bone. It’s unexpected. I really try not to think about how it feels when he says my name, how it takes me back to that night when he rasped it against the shell of my ear.
My chin lifts to meet his shrouded eyes, and I try to shake the feeling away. But when I look into them, I see more than I bargained for. There’s more than just heat there, but an edge I don’t understand. They look sad. But more than that, they look lost.
Like a light guiding sailors in the fog, I reach out to it. If he needs someone to fight against that mounting loneliness, then I can be that person for him. Because I don’t think I can ignore the pull anymore.
“I don’t know, but you couldn’t wait to get away from me. You ran from the table like a bat out of hell. Just say you can’t stand me being here, and I’ll go. Spare us both the discomfort.”
Alden licks his lips, and my eyes dart to them.
“I never said I wanted you to leave,” he rushes out.
He pulls me in, and the space between us melts away. The hallway gets smaller. And I’m at a loss for words.
I’m tucked against his chest, and his hips are flush with mine. His hand is now on my lower back. I’m trapped, but I don’t think I want a way out.
“You don’t?” I ask, focusing on the way Alden looks at me.
A burst of light shines through the window behind us at that very moment, flooding the space. The glow makes Alden’s eyes glisten. A million shards of broken sea glass twinkle back at me.
“No.” He confesses, his resolve slipping. “In fact, I want the opposite.” His voice is gruff, needier. “Because every second that I’m not around you, I’m thinking about you, about your tight little body in my hands, unravelling. I can’t stop it. It’s constant, and it’s consuming. You’re still on my mind, and I can’t get you out. So, no, Monroe, I’m not uncomfortable, I’m fucking insatiable.”
I blink rapidly. “ Oh .”
Alden’s hand flexes, reminding me he’s still holding on to me, touching me. His jaw clenches, like the closeness is torture for him. I feel breathless.
He clears his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Wendell is probably wondering where we went.”
With that, he lets me go, walking back out to our table. Hot and cold. Alden sets my nerves on fire while simultaneously extinguishing them in the same breath. It’s fucking confusing. If he’s bottling all of this up, what does he think telling me will do? Turn me into a dumb-struck, gasping, thigh-clenching mess. That’s what.
Leaning back against the wall, I try to get my heart rate under control before I go out there. I won’t lie; I’ve been purposely keeping myself busy to avoid thinking about him—him and our toe-curling, mind-numbing, near-religious fuck. Work has been a great distraction to take my mind off it. Harriet, too. Because if I stopped to think about him and that night, I’d do something stupid. Like, tell him to get his ass over to my place and rail me into oblivion.
It’s like my body doesn’t know how to function now that I’ve gotten a taste. I’ve always been okay with putting my needs first and giving in. But with Alden, I find myself holding back because, with him, I can see myself getting lost in it. In all of it. And I would rather bury everything than acknowledge that part of myself.
Damn him.
Even hidden in the shadows, I know I’m blushing just thinking about it. Heat laps at my chest, climbing up my neck and expanding over my cheeks. I need to calm down. Trying to ignore the way my body hums, I concentrate. I don’t want to explain to Wendell why I look so flustered. When I push away from the wall, I make sure to take a breath before heading back through the heart of the restaurant.
Alden and Wendell are in the middle of an intense discussion when I sit back down, and I find it hard to focus on anything but the way Alden’s defined jaw flexes between bouts of conversation or how his nostrils flare when he’s not so subtly looking at me out of the corner of his eye. He even has a pronounced cupid’s bow that I haven’t bothered to notice until now, making his lips full and plump. Deliciously so. It’s so fucking annoying.
He smirks when he catches me checking him out, and he watches me squirm in my seat. The asshole. He’s getting off on seeing me lose my mind inside this teeny, tiny restaurant.
It feels all too indecent the way he looks at me, too lustful for where we are. But I don’t want it to stop. I let out a little gasp when he drops his fork, then gets up to pick it up and brushes up against my arm. He watches me closely, and I see the devilish glimmer in his eyes. The one likely to get me in trouble tonight. I’m biting my bottom lip as I watch him drop to his knees in front of me.
I’m convinced that if we were alone, he’d pounce on me here and now.
He straightens, and his warm breath hits the side of my neck, battering my skin with goose bumps, before he sits back down. It’s a quick sequence of moves, only a few seconds or a minute long, but it feels like it goes on forever. My eyes fall closed when he does it again, shifting like he’s trying to get comfortable, deliberately blowing air to make the stray hairs tickle the nape of my neck, stimulating me.
Before he leans back, I grab his thigh under the table, not saying a word. His eyes lock with mine, and my face says it all.
We need to get the fuck out of here. Now.
“So, Monroe…” Wendell breaks the tension between me and Alden. We both freeze and turn to him, disengaging from each other like a high-velocity explosion. “Do you enjoy working at The Cerulean? It must feel like one long summer vacation.”
I feel feverish—hot—like someone cranked the heat. When I make a move to remove my sweater, I realize I’m not wearing one. Fuck.
I cough loudly, feeling both embarrassed and turned on. I rub my wrist hard, trying to calm down. “Not quite. There’s a lot of responsibility, especially since becoming an assistant manager. But I don’t mind the extra work. If you love what you do, it doesn’t feel like work. And I love it.”
“I can tell,” he says, taking a sip from his wine. “You had this buzz to you when we first met, a look of pride that can only come when someone truly loves what they do.”
I take his observation in stride, thinking this guy is far too astute not to pick up on the sexual tension between Alden and me. My hands get clammy, and my fork slips from my hands and bounces on the table beside me.
I reach for it but end up brushing against Alden’s fist. His knuckles go white. I pull away fast before anyone can catch on to the heat festering inside me.
“Sorry.” My throat goes bone dry.
I take a sip of water, not looking up. I can’t. Because I’m afraid that one look from Alden will make this arbitrary, artificial barrier that I’ve constructed between us crumble, and my flimsy resolve will so easily fall apart. I want to give in. And if I look at him, he’ll see just how badly.
“You’re a lot like Alden in that way,” Wendell says.
“Really?”
I can’t tell whether Wendell’s just messing around or if he really has no clue, but he looks at us and nods.
“Definitely.” He claps Alden on the back. “I remember when his company went public. He was a wreck. It was endearing. Even though I could tell that he was extremely nervous, he was also excited to have a purpose, to love something. Again.”
Alden’s whole body tenses, like someone just slapped him. His shoulders are set, and his eyes have a faraway look in them. There’s a different kind of tension now. An unspoken one. But Wendell ignores it.
“I’ve never seen him so pale…” He goes on, trying to catch Alden’s eyes, but he doesn’t spare him a glance. “But I knew it was something good for him, something he needed. Even if he was unsure about it, even if he was bracing himself for impact at every turn, I knew all he needed was a little push, and it would all become perfectly clear.”
I know I’m missing something, and I get the feeling we aren’t talking about Alden’s company anymore.
Alden’s nose scrunches as he lifts his head. “Everything turned out fine, but it just as easily could’ve ended poorly. I could’ve failed. I could’ve put everything I had into something that didn’t work out.” He shakes his head. “I was lucky.”
Wendell’s eyes are hard but not malicious. “No, I wouldn’t call that luck. I’d call it fate.”
I take a peek at Alden and see how uncomfortable he looks. His body language screams it.
“I don’t believe in fate,” I say, interrupting their battle of wills. They both look at me. Alden’s lips twitch like he wants to smile but resists. “Tarot cards, palm reading, crystal balls, it’s all bullshit. None of it means anything.”
Wendell looks at me like I just shit on his pillow, and I suppress a laugh.
“Of that, we can agree.” Alden pipes up, letting his smile loose. “It’s all about circumstance and timing. Not if the stars align.”
“Right.” I take another helping of the lamb korma, moaning unceremoniously as my mouth wraps around my fork. “And some financial knowledge.”
Wendell looks confused at first before his furrowed brows smooth out.
The rest of the night goes smoothly, without any more awkward exchanges. But Alden is pretty quiet after that. And I don’t blame him. He was blind-sided and put on the spot, so, of course, he clammed up. Wendell and I chat mostly, making a few jokes, but Alden doesn’t really respond.
He essentially checks out, pushing his food around until the night finally comes to an end. When the bill comes, Alden grabs it before Wendell can and before I have a chance to react. It’s like a reflex.
“How much do I owe you?” I’m already digging in my purse for my wallet.
“Not a chance,” Alden scoffs.
“You’re not paying for this. I don’t need you to. I have the money.” I try to grab the bill, but Alden moves it out of my reach.
My glare is practiced. Deathly. And I almost exclusively use it when I’m around Alden.
“When you’re out with me, you don’t pay. I don’t care if you can afford it. It’s not happening.” Alden grinds his teeth like he’s irritated that I’m fighting him on this.
A ring-side bell dings loudly in my head. And we’re back to it, ladies and gentlemen.
“Don’t be a bigger dick than you already are. Just let me give you part of it.”
Alden’s brow arches like he wants to make a lewd joke, but he doesn’t.
“You’re insulting me now, Monroe. Let it go.”
“I’m insulting you?” I laugh hysterically. “Oh, I haven’t even begun.”
Alden looks like he’s ready to snap. The look in his eyes borders on menacing, as if it’s meant to intimidate me. I just keep staring harder, like I’m looking down the barrel of a gun. I’m out of breath, licking my lips. Alden is staring at my mouth without blinking.
“What if I paid?” Wendell chimes in, looking at us, looking uneasy.
Alden’s eyes dart to mine, his gaze softening. He raises an eyebrow, like he’s wondering if he should drop it.
“I don’t like being indebted to anyone,” I tell him.
He leans closer, his voice a chilling whisper now. “You can always repay me in other ways.”
I think about it for half a second before I decide.
“Pay the bill and meet me outside.” I keep my voice low. Heat pools in my stomach when Alden’s fingers dance along my thigh. I look at Wendell. “Thank you for the conversation and making sure that I don’t eat convenience store ramen tonight, Wendell.”
Wendell blinks in confusion at my sudden change and then nods. “O-okay. No problem. Get home safely.”
With trembling hands, I push out of my chair and exit the restaurant. I make a point not to look back at Alden in case I make this any more obvious than it already is. Alden strolls out of the restaurant five minutes later. I look behind him.
“Where’s Wendell?”
“Washroom.” He explains. “If we’re doing this, we should go now.”
The slight breeze and the tension drifting in the air make me shudder. Alden sees and takes off his suit jacket. He offers it to me. I just stare at it, and then he sighs and places it over my shoulders.
“What’s this for?” I ask while clenching the soft fabric.
“You looked cold.”
I snicker. “It’s Palm Beach; it doesn’t get colder than seventy degrees. I think I’ll live.”
When I attempt to give the jacket back to him, Alden shakes his head.
“Just keep it on.”
“Why?”
He refuses to make eye contact with me. “It looks good on you.” And he walks away from the restaurant. “Just so you know, it’s only a loan. I expect you to return it to me.”
“So that’s your move?” Alden looks confused, so I explain, “You give your jacket to each one of your hookups like we’re in a romcom, and they end up swooning for you.”
Alden chuckles, but he still doesn’t look at me. “I don’t have a move, Monroe.”
“But you’re not denying it.”
“If you want me to tell you I offer my jacket to everyone I sleep with, then I can’t.”
“Really? Not even once?”
His expression is unsettled when he does look at me. “You’re really hung up on this jacket thing. Do you want me to take it back?”
Nervously, I glide my hands over the material, contemplating returning it to him, but I end up shaking my head. “No, I haven’t found your wallet yet.”
Alden throws his head back, laughing maniacally at me. But I’m not laughing. He doesn’t do sweet gestures. He doesn’t care. But isn’t offering someone your jacket because you think they might be cold caring? You’re delusional. But am I? One second, Alden is an ass, and the next, he’s acting like a real human being. Maybe I’m wearing him down. Or maybe he’s wearing me down.