CHAPTER 12
NOW
NICKY
Daphne strides from the room, her departure deeming me unworthy of so much as a farewell wave. It should make me proud. I want her to ignore me, to remain distant in our interactions. Less opportunity to allow for any temptation.
So then why am I left feeling like I would’ve settled for a “fuck off” over the blatant indifference I was awarded?
She was a vision in her white silk blouse, the free-flowing fabric of her shirt gifting me the most glorious view of her white lace bra when she leaned forward. Her black high-waisted sailor pants adorned with large gold buttons perfectly accentuated her narrow waist, reminding me of how the span of my grip encircles it almost entirely.
My fingers twitch as though possessed by the muscle memory of what she feels like pinned within my grasp, leaving my painfully hard erection punching at the zipper of my pants. It suddenly dawns on me that my mother is no more than five feet behind me, and the realization alone is thankfully enough to extinguish any lingering excitement.
“Sit,” she instructs, setting the plate she went to retrieve onto the table with a quiet thud. I oblige, assessing her suspicious stare as she places two pieces of chicken in front of me. After depositing some salad alongside it, she returns to her seat where she continues to eye me almost accusingly.
“What?”
“You hacked the security cameras again.” My mom doesn’t bother to mask her annoyance, though the sight of her irritation makes me smirk.
My mom can be downright intimidating with those who deserve her wrath, but toward her kids? She has about as much ferocity as a golden retriever puppy.
“Ma,” I pick up the silverware to begin cutting into the chicken, “it isn’t hacking if all I have to do is log into the app on my phone.”
“It is when you continue to access the feed even after I’ve changed the passwords.”
Well, if I don’t then how else will I know when she visits so I can plan my impromptu drop-ins?
“I like to know you’re safe. What if someone was breaking in? How else would I know you need help?”
“Daniel Nicholas Conners. We have a top-tier security system that links right to emergency services. They have a response time of four minutes. I think we’re covered.”
“I don’t understand your objections. It doesn’t hurt for me to have access.”
“Fine,” she states, leaning back in her seat as she sips her chardonnay. “I’d stay out of the video archive, though. Unless, of course, you want to catch a glimpse of your father and me after date night last week.”
I still, my body frozen aside from my rapid blinking as I try to process what she just said.
“Outside? Seriously?”
“We live on thirty-seven acres. It’s not like we have to worry about neighbors.”
“It’s winter.”
“Heated pool.” She shrugs.
Dropping my knife to the plate with a clatter, I reach inside my jacket to retrieve my phone, promptly deleting the app. Once I receive confirmation it’s gone, I return my cell to my inner pocket, resuming my lunch.
My mom snickers. “I thought you’d at least threaten to call my bluff.”
“Absolutely not. Neither of us could afford the therapy I’d need if I stumbled upon that.”
“Here’s to you respecting boundaries moving forward.” She toasts me before taking another sip. “So, while I love to see you, sweetheart, what brings you here in the middle of a weekday?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
Her eyes narrow with skepticism. “Uh-huh. That’s a popular excuse today.”
“You don’t want me here?”
She leans forward, lending a playful slap upside my head. “Of course I want you here. I always want you here.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.” I chuckle, shoving another forkful of chicken into my mouth. Damn, I miss this. The boys and I practically survive on takeout.
“You don’t get to act offended that I’m questioning your presence when we both know the only reason you’re here is because the doorbell camera alerted you that a certain redhead was entering the house.”
The chicken I’m in the middle of swallowing diverts down the wrong pipe, sending me into a hysterical coughing fit.
“Breathe, my love.” She rises, nonchalantly placing a glass of water in front of me as she begins clearing the table.
I down the liquid, pounding my fist several times against my chest once I’ve finished. Gasping, I shove my chair back to follow her into the kitchen.
“Some advice? If you’ve finally resorted to stalking, maybe it would be easier to… oh, I don’t know… pick up the phone and call her. Ask her out to dinner?”
“One—she’s engaged. And two—I don’t know what you’re even talking about.”
“She’s engaged to a douchebag.” Mom reaches down into a cabinet, retrieving various Tupperware containers and dropping them to the counter with more force than necessary. “I know it. You know it. Deep down, she knows it.”
“And how is that my problem?”
She pauses packing away the leftovers to glare at me. “So, that’s really how we’re going to play this? Like there’s nothing between you two?”
Where the fuck is this coming from?
“Don’t curse at me in my kitchen, Nicky.”
Shit, did I say that out loud?
“Sorry, Ma. It’s just… What’s with the sudden third degree?”
Mom takes a deep breath, exhaling a sigh as she seals up the containers and places them off to the side. Tugging open a drawer, she pulls a slip of paper from within, turning to slide it across the countertop. My hand slaps down, capturing the piece of decorative white cardstock beneath my palm.
I flip it over, my stomach tightening as I begin to read.
“It came yesterday,” she states, gesturing toward the Save the Date bearing Daph’s impending nuptial date. “Venue’s all booked.”
August. Just six short months away.
My jaw clenches at the sight of his name printed alongside hers, and I’m forced to swallow my disappointment. “Daph’s a big girl, Mom. She wants to fuck her life up by marrying Lucian Devoreaux, that’s her prerogative.” It takes a conscious effort to not snarl as I say his name.
“Sure, because she’s the only one who would suffer by marrying Lucian, right?” She snatches the Save the Date from my hand, returning it to the drawer before slamming it shut.
“Ma.” I scrub a hand over my downturned expression. “I don’t know where you’re getting the impression there’s something between Daph and I—” Just the memories of mind-blowing sex that keep me borderline obsessed with her. “—but it’s never gonna happen.”
It can’t. Not if I want to keep her safe.
My mother eyes me, studying me for several moments before tossing her hands up in surrender. “Fine. Okay. I’m sorry I overstepped.”
Rounding the island, I come to stand at her side, pulling her into me so I can plant a kiss on her forehead. “No reason to apologize. I just want you to have realistic expectations. Daphne and I are friends.” I wrap her up in another squeeze before releasing her to dig my keys from my pocket. “I gotta head out. Does 6:30 work?”
“For what?” Her brow creases with confusion.
“For me to pick you up. No sense in making Pops go tonight when he despises these things. Plus, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to trigger Belinda Burke and the rest of the ethically challenged minions of this city. Come on. We can outbid them on all the silent auction items, then donate them back to charity at the end like you know they despise. We’ll make a night of it. Just you and me.”
Even I’m impressed how I manage to keep my tone light while delivering my suggestion, but the slight shake of her head suggests she knows my motive is shit. I’d do anything for my mom, but the idea that I’m offering to escort her tonight simply to alleviate my dad from having to endure the company of those he hates is just as ludicrous as my previous claim that Daph and I are friends.
Daphne Burke and I could never be just friends. Not when I know what she looks like unraveling beneath me. Not when I know how tightly she clenches me when I whisper filthy praises in her ear.
This is a bad idea. I know it, and judging on how she just ran from me, she certainly won’t appreciate my attendance at tonight’s event. Nothing good could possibly come from this.
Yet, when my mother confirms 6:30 as an acceptable time to pick her up, I text Rico to see if he and JP can handle tonight’s meeting without me.