Текст книги "Bang"

Автор книги: E. K. Blair

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

BENNETT LEAVES TODAY to go back to Dubai to start an overhaul on the production plant, gutting it and replacing everything with the same equipment that is used at the other plant he has here in the States. When I told him that I was meeting with the caterers today, he had his assistant call and hold his plane so he could go with me. The idea of having him and Declan in the same room causes my nerves to go a bit haywire. Especially when I just saw Declan for coffee yesterday.

He continues to press me about Bennett, and I’m confident with my performance as he seems to be under the assumption I’m not all that happy and that I’m only keeping up the façade for the sake of appearance. But I don’t want there to be any awkward exchanges today when we meet up with him at his hotel, so this is where it turns tricky. I’d like to keep both men apart from each other, so the added fact that Bennett is linked with Cal, Declan’s father, isn’t optimal. It was never in my plan to target a man like Declan, but so far, he’s the one that has taken the bait. I just need to be careful with handling this situation. One little slip could be disastrous, and I’ve invested too much time to make a fatal error.

“Are you ready, honey?” Bennett asks as he walks into the living room where I’m sitting.

I stand, straighten my pencil skirt, and walk over to him. “Yes. I just need to grab my coat.”

“We’ll drive so that you’ll have the car with you when you leave. Baldwin will pick me up to take me to the airport.”

“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble to delay the charter,” I say as I slip on my coat and grab my purse.

“No trouble at all. I just hate that I have to be gone again with it being so close to Christmas.”

We leave the apartment and head down on the elevator.

“By the way,” he says. “I spoke with my parents. They want us over Christmas Eve for a dinner party they’re hosting.”

I cringe inside at the thought of spending time with those assholes, but I smile anyway, saying, “Okay. I’ve been meaning to call your mother, I’ve just been a little scattered with everything else going. And now you’re leaving again.”

He takes my face in his hands and kisses my cheek. “It’s only temporary.”

“I know.”

“It’ll be busy for a while, but once everything is up and running, it’ll slow back down.”

The elevator opens and we make our way to the parking garage. We take the Land Rover, and when we pull out, we’re greeted by more snow.

“It’s supposed to get bad later,” Bennett says.

“I’ll be sure to get home before it does.”

“I can hire another driver if you need me to.”

Cocking my head at him, I smile, saying, “I survived before without a driver, Bennett. I’ll be fine.”

Baldwin will be accompanying Bennett on his trip this time, so he won’t be around to drive me. One less person I have to worry about.

“With me gone so much and this brutal winter we’ve been having, it worries me knowing you’re driving around in this mess.”

Laying my hand on his thigh, I assure him, “I’ll be fine. You worry too much.”

He takes my hand in his, kissing my knuckles, and says, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t help but worry when I’ll be a world away.”

I lace my fingers with his and relish in the fact that this new purchase will have him so far away for a longer span of time, allowing me to work on Declan. It couldn’t be a better situation. With Bennett and Baldwin gone, I’ll be able to come and go as I please without having to explain.

When we pull up to Lotus, the valet opens my door and helps me out.

“Watch your step, miss.”

“Thank you,” I say before Bennett walks around to take my hand and lead me inside.

I show him to the private dining room that Declan had the flowers in earlier this week, and when we walk in, Declan is there talking to the chef.

“Nina,” he says with a smile, and my nerves float to the top of my stomach. He takes my hand, giving me a chaste kiss on the cheek, and then greets my husband. “Bennett,” he says with a firm handshake. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I hear my wife is keeping you busy.”

“She knows what she likes,” Declan chuckles and Bennett joins him. “But she hasn’t fired me, so I guess I’m doing something right.”

“Don’t get too high on yourself just yet,” I add with the sass I know Bennett loves but, at times, can irritate the hell out of Declan. He takes it well, never losing his grin. I want to make him jealous, but it’s a fine line with Bennett here, so I’ll make sure to gauge Declan’s body language and not push him too far.

Declan introduces us to Marco, the chef I’m considering for the party, and we then take a seat at one of the tables.

“So, Bennett, Nina tells me you’ve been slammed with work lately.”

“That’s a massive understatement, and to be happening this time of year is less than ideal,” Bennett says and then reaches over to hold my hand that’s resting on the table. “Fortunately for me, I have an understanding wife.”

Just as I give him a smile, we are presented with a sculpted Caprese salad.

“So how did you get into steel production?” Declan asks, and I remain quiet as they talk.

“At the time, I was acquiring and renovating vacant buildings when I came across a manufacturing plant that was going bankrupt. I was able to purchase it at a bargain, keeping the owner from going into insolvency. I flipped the place, and next thing I knew, we were up and running, gaining a solid client base.”

“From the ground up,” Declan states.

“Just like your father,” Bennett adds.

I watch Declan’s jaw flex as he grinds his teeth. He takes a sip of his wine and then says, “You two must be proud of yourselves,” with a condescending tone, possibly taking Bennett’s remark as a stab against the fact that Declan is, in a sense, riding on his father’s coattails by going into the family business. But I know Bennett, and no such suggestion was meant on his part.

Bennett notes Declan’s insinuation, and deflects, turning to me, asking, “Are you going to see Jacqueline tomorrow? I thought Richard mentioned something to me about it.”

“Mmm hmm.” I wipe my mouth, and add, “The girls want to make a day at Neiman’s, and I need to find a dress for the party.”

“I thought you couldn’t stand them,” Declan butts in, and I immediately heat in anger that not only is he being grossly inappropriate in exploiting something he thought I was revealing in confidence to a friend, but I also don’t need him raising any red flags with Bennett.

I widen my eyes, letting him know he crossed a line, when Bennett questions, confused, “You don’t like them?”

“Um, no. I mean . . . Declan just meant that . . .” fuck, “Well, I voiced to Declan that sometimes they can be a tad overbearing. That’s all.” Looking into his eyes, I have to wonder if he’s upset that I would reveal something like that to Declan. Something that has nothing to do with the business we are supposed to be conducting while we’re together, so I cover myself, adding, “I had run into one of Jacqueline’s friends at the florist when Declan and I were there. She was being a little snippy, so I loosely made that statement to him. I possibly spoke out of frustration. I like the girls, but you know how it can be when you get us all in one room.”

He buys it, saying, “I’ll never pretend to understand the mind of a woman,” with light laughter, and I smile with him.

“Me neither,” I tease. “And I’m one of them.” Taking my fork and stabbing a basil leaf, I mumble with a grin, “Snarky bitches,” before taking a bite.

Bennett laughs at my crudeness as I give Declan a disapproving glare.

We get halfway through the second course with building tension from Declan when Bennett gets a call from Richard that he has to take. He excuses himself and steps outside of the room, walking down the hall, and when he’s out of sight, I turn and snap, “Your games aren’t funny. I was under the assumption that the few pieces I gave you, pieces you asked for, would remain private and not for you to use when you felt someone was stepping on your dick.”

He leans to the side, grabs the arm of my chair, and abruptly yanks it towards him, quietly gritting, “Your smart mouth is unbecoming, Nina, so watch how you speak to me. And no one steps on my dick, especially your husband—the man you say you love but doesn’t seem to know shit about you.”

“You think you’re cute?”

“Do I look like a man who gives a shit about being cute?”

Narrowing my eyes, I tell him, “You look like a man who’s jealous, but you shouldn’t even be going there with me.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m a married woman, and your juvenile accusations are insulting. You don’t know anything about my husband and what he does or doesn’t know about me.”

“You’re a liar,” he accuses.

“Excuse me?”

He leans in closer, mere inches away from my face, and says, “I think you like making me jealous. Am I right?”

In a soft voice that I make sure comes out shaky, I respond simply, “No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Bullshit aside?”

“Bullshit aside, Declan. What do you want?”

His eyes are near daggers when he answers, “You.”

Perfect answer, idiot.

I stand up, throwing my napkin on the table and turn to go find Bennett, although I have no intentions of leaving this room, and Declan doesn’t fail when he grabs my arm and jerks me around, pulling me flush against him. He looks down at me, and I shift my eyes away.

“Look at me,” he demands, and when I don’t he grabs my chin and pulls it around to face him. “I said look at me, Nina.”

“You’re an ass.”

“And you’ve got a filthy mouth,” he says before taking a taste, sealing his lips with mine. He isn’t gentle, and his stubble grazes roughly against me as he wraps his hand around the back of my neck. His grip on me is firm, and I make sure he feels me respond to him for a brief moment when I move my lips with his before forcefully pushing him away.

His grin is arrogant as he takes a step back, putting distance between us.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I bite harshly.

“Testing you.”

“You’re an insolent prick.”

“Then why did you kiss me back?” he questions. “Don’t lie to me either because I felt it.”

“You didn’t feel anything, and neither did I.” Walking back over to the table, I pull my chair back and sit down, saying as I keep my eyes forward, “Don’t ever do that again.”

Seconds later, Declan returns to his seat in front of me, and with perfect timing, Bennett comes back in. This situation is bordering on dangerous, so I’m relieved when Bennett says, “I apologize about that, but it seems I’m going to have to leave earlier than expected.”

“What?” I ask.

“I’m sorry, honey. The charter is ready to go. There was miscommunication about the reschedule, and we have to head out.”

“Now?”

He holds his hand out to me, and I take it as I stand up. “Declan,” he says when he turns to look at Declan who is now standing as well. “Sorry to run like this. It was good seeing you again.”

Declan doesn’t speak, but instead gives him a curt nod as they shake hands.

“If you’ll excuse us for a moment,” Bennett says as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and starts leading us out. Looking over my shoulder, I watch as Declan remains standing, keeping his eyes on us as we walk out of the room.

God, he’s so transparent.

I walk with Bennett to the lobby, and when he stops in front of the doors, I play the sad wife. Slipping my arms around his waist, I lay my head on his chest and hold on to him.

“I don’t want you to go.”

His lips fall on the top of my head, giving a kiss, and then he responds, “I know. I’ll get back here as soon as I can.”

I look up at him, and he takes my lips, the lips that Declan just had, and he kisses me. Long, slow, soft. He keeps the connection for a moment before pulling away and looking down at me. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he questions.

“Say sweet things that’ll make me miss you even more.”

He smiles, and when I glance out the front, I see Baldwin pulling up. With a heavy sigh, I turn back to Bennett as he says, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Okay,” I respond with hesitation as I nod my head.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get there,” he tells me and then teases, “Use this time to buy me lots of Christmas gifts.”

“I’ll spoil you rotten,” I laugh.

“You already spoil me rotten.”

With one more kiss, we say goodbye, and I watch as the car pulls away, happy that he’s finally gone.

WITH MY HUSBAND on his way to the airport to spend the next two weeks on the other side of the world, I get my game face on and head back to Declan, who’s still in the dining room.

“What was that about?” he questions when I walk back in and sit down.

“Just saying goodbye.”

“Are you sad?”

Shifting in my seat, I say, “Can we not talk about this?”

Declan doesn’t push his questions anymore, staying quiet for the most part, aside from safe chitchat as we finish our meal. We discuss the catering and visit with Marco for a while, and after I hire him to cater the party, we open a bottle of wine while we spend a lengthy amount of time selecting the menu offerings. Once business is handled and the foods are selected, Marco excuses himself and I follow Declan to the lobby to have the valet pull my car around.

“Oh no,” I breathe as I look out front. “How long were we talking with Marco?” It’s a white out with snow falling hard and already piling high, making it impossible for me to leave.

“A few hours,” Declan responds. “You can’t drive in this, Nina.”

“No, I know,” I say and then shake my head, adding, “It’s just . . . I told Bennett I would leave before the storm hit.”

“We lost track of time. Nobody’s fault. You can stay here.”

“I don’t have anything with me,” I say and Declan lets out a quiet laugh. “What?”

“Nina, you’re standing in one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. I’ll get you whatever you need.”

“Anything?”

Smiling at me, he says, “Come on,” as he leads me back to his office. He then gets on the phone telling whoever is on the other end to prepare a penthouse suite with all amenities and to bring him the key.

When he hangs up, I tell him, “You didn’t have to do that. I don’t need the penthouse.”

“You’ll be next to me. This way you won’t be tempted to sneak out and play in the elevators,” he jokes as if I’m some teenager.

“Next to you?” I question.

“I occupy one of the penthouses.”

“You live here?”

“No,” he replies. “I have a loft in River North, but I house a room here as well for when I’m too tired to drive home, or in this case, get stuck in a blizzard.”

“River North? I would’ve thought you lived here in the loop.”

“Too pretentious for me. No offense.”

“Says the man who drives a pretentious car,” I tease with a smile, and suddenly, all the tension and frustration from earlier seems to let up as we lightly poke fun at each other.

“Well, I can’t argue the car, but it’s nice to leave the loop at the end of the day and escape to a place that’s a bit more low-key.”

He says this and I think back to the breakfast diner he took me to the other week. Declan definitely looks the part and has the name that follows, but I wonder how much of it is really him. River North is full of wealth these days, but he’s right, it’s not pretentious.

After a while, when one of the staff delivers my room key, I follow Declan as he shows me to my room. Only two suites occupy the top floor, which is only accessible by the occupants—Declan and myself.

“This is you,” he says as he walks me over to the left side of the elevator banks.

“Thank you.”

“I’m on the other side,” he tells me. “So if you need anything . . .”

“I’ll be fine,” I assure.

“Dinner later?”

“I’m pretty full from Marco’s meal,” I say. “I think I’ll make it an early night.”

As I turn to unlock the door, he adds, “Like I said, if you need anything, let me know.”

“Night, Declan,” I say and then walk into the room, letting the door shut behind me.

Looking around, the walls are solid floor to ceiling windows showcasing the twinkling lights of the city that’s now covered in a blanket of snow. The space is large, with an open-concept living room, dining room, and kitchen. All of which are furnished in sleek upholstery and rich leather. I note the fireplace that is situated in a smaller sitting area that’s set off from the rest of the room in a sunken section a couple steps down. I make my way into the bedroom that’s lined with the same panoramic windows. I lay my coat and purse down on the plush white linens and go into the bathroom. I laugh at the extremities Declan’s staff went to when I see every toiletry you could possibly need, plus a two-piece set of pajamas folded inside a shopping bag from Roslyn Boutique. Picking them up, I note the designer. The length that this hotel went to is no doubt a simple favor to myself. Lotus is known for its exclusivity and privacy for its patrons. Not anyone can just walk in and book a room.

After settling in, changing into the pajamas, and making a cup of hot tea, I sit on the floor with my legs crossed, knees pressed against the cold window as I watch the snow fall down on the city below. I think about how to use this night to my advantage with Declan. I know I should find my way to his room, and start to go through a variety of reasons for why I would go knocking on his door.

Time passes as I get lost in thought, and when I look over to the clock sitting on one of the end tables, it reads 10:23 pm. Setting my mug on the floor beside me, my mind drifts to Pike, and I can’t help the guilt that passes through as I think about him in that cold, dilapidated trailer while I’m sitting on top of the city. The click of a door steers me away from Pike, and when I turn to look over my shoulder, I see Declan.

“What are you doing on the floor in the dark?” he asks as he walks across the large living room towards me.

“Do you make it a habit of breaking in to your guests’ hotel rooms?”

With a grin, he says, “Technically, I didn’t break in.” He holds up a key card before dropping it on the coffee table when he walks past it.

“You could have knocked.”

He steps next to me as I sit on the floor, and I have to tilt my head back to look up at him. He stands with his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he looks out the window.

“I love the snow,” he murmurs, and without thinking, I agree, “I do too.”

He looks down at me, his face shadowed in the darkened room. “Are you okay?” he asks, concerned for some reason.

“Why?”

“Because I come to check on you and you’re on the floor pressed up against the window without a single light on. Seems sad.”

I turn my attention back to the city below when I respond, “I like watching the snow fall.”

He sits down next to me, his knee touching mine. I allow a few moments of silence to pass before saying, “Thank you.”

“For?”

“The room,” I tell him. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s just a room, Nina,” he says, downplaying the scale of his hotel as he keeps his focus on the snow.

“Lotus,” I say, acknowledging the name of the hotel. “Interesting choice. Why Lotus?”

“There’s something about a beautiful, nearly flawless flower, emerging from muddled water.”

“Hmm.” I pause before stating, “Self-reflection,” inferring that the meaning strikes a chord with himself.

Tilting his head to look at me, his breath feathering my cheek, he says, “Is this you trying to dissect me?”

“Is there something lying beneath that I should be looking for?”

“Everyone has something beneath that they’re hiding.” He peers into me. At least that’s what he wants me to believe, but I’m not permeable. I soften anyway, giving him the sense that he’s actually having an effect on me. I blink a few times and shift myself, cueing him that I’m nervous, and then he asks, “So what is it? Tell me what you think you’ve found.”

Taking in a deep breath, I release it with my theory. “You have a distaste for the business that owns your name.”

He doesn’t move, and I add, “Or maybe your distaste is for your father.”

“Interesting. Why bring him up?”

I smile and say, “Come on. We’ve both met the man. He’s a bastard; you said it yourself the other day.”

Declan laughs under his breath, saying “You’re not delicate with your words, are you?”

“Did I give you the impression that I’m delicate?”

With a soft hum, he gives me an inquisitive look, and then asks, “What about your father?”

He catches me slightly off guard. A pinprick in the one soft spot that I’ve never been able to harden.

You want to know my weakness?

Well, there it is.

I miss my father.

Shifting the focus, I redirect, saying, “We’re not talking about me, remember?”

“Of course.”

“Do you even get along with him?”

“As well as anyone else does,” he answers.

“That’s a very political answer.”

With his hand, he brushes my cheek slightly as he takes a lock of my hair and tucks it behind my ear, saying, “Whether or not you’re in politics, everything is political. We all save face for others to perceive us in the best light. Nothing is real until you break down the walls and reveal the ugliness.”

“Ugliness,” I repeat as I look at him.

“The truest part of a person is always the ugliest. And with your evasiveness, I would bet that you’re pretty damn ugly beneath all that gloss.”

He keeps a straight face as he says this, and the truth behind his words irritates me. I know I’m ugly. Uglier than most. I’m tarnished and decrepit, but I’ll be damned if I ever let him or anyone else see the wretched heart that beats inside of me.

“You’re an asshole,” I bite.

“Baby, I’ve been called a lot worse, so if you’re trying to offend me, you’ll have to do better than that.”

With a glare, I say, “I don’t get you and your insults. I thought you wanted to be my friend.”

He moves in closer to me, and with a low voice, murmurs, “I don’t want to be your friend, Nina.”

Taking a hard swallow, I feign nervousness, whispering, “You should go,” as he continues to move himself toward me, and then over me, forcing me to lie back on the floor with both his hands braced on either side of me. “Declan, this is wrong,” I breathe.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Tell me you love your husband,” his voice taunting.

“I love my husband.”

“Tell me you don’t want me,” he says, eyes pinned to mine.

“I don’t want you.”

My breathing increases and grows heavy when he lowers himself onto his elbow and starts running his one hand down the center of my sternum, between my breasts, adding quietly, “Tell me you’re not lying to me.”

“I’m not lying to you.”

Then, with his legs intertwined with mine, he slips his hand down my pants, under my panties, parting the lips of my pussy and dragging his finger through my heat. He smiles cagily down at me when he feels how wet I am and then quickly removes his hand, bringing it to my lips and shoving his finger into my mouth, telling me, “Taste your lies, Nina.”

His breath bathes me with his words, and I give in, allowing my tongue, for a brief and noticeable moment, to wrap around his finger, giving him the obedience I know he craves, but inside, I’m mortified and disgusted. I hate that my body would react this way—growing wet for this man. Pulling away and jerking my head to the side, I don’t look at him, but soon feel his nose gliding along my exposed neck, hearing him inhale my scent.

“Declan . . .”

“Hmm . . .?”

I roll my head back, and look straight up at him. “Get the fuck off of me.”

When he doesn’t move right away, I fist my hands, and flip the switch on him, weakly slamming them against his chest, allowing the look of guilt to wash over my face. “Get off of me now, Declan.”

He moves back and sits on his heels as I rise off of my back and scoot away from him, muttering, “Please, just go. Just leave me alone.”

“Nina . . .”

“You can’t do this to me. I’m not that person.”

He reaches out for me, saying, with apology in his voice, “I don’t want to upset you; you just make it hard for me to control myself when I’m around you.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I like you. Because I know you’re not happy. I can see you hiding, and I don’t want you to do that around me.”

“I’m not hiding,” I affirm sternly.

“Okay then,” he releases in frustration. “You want me to accept that when we both know it’s a lie?”

“I’m not hiding,” I repeat, and with that, he stands and walks away and out the door.

Fucking, Christ!

A part of me wants to squeal in victory, knowing I’ve got this guy by the balls, and the other part feels like it needs a drink because he’s so goddamn deluged with intensity. I’ve come across a few guys in the past year, but none have shown this level of interest. They all fizzled before anything could ever get started, so the elation that I feel with Declan gives me the power I need to move forward.

I NOW FIND myself tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep because my mind won’t seem to quiet down. It’s past one in the morning when I decide the night with Declan isn’t over just yet. He wants to believe that I’m lying to him about my contentment with Bennett, so I’ll give him reason enough to confirm his assumption. Throwing the covers off of me, I walk through the room and out the door. This floor is private, so I go ahead and walk past the elevator bank and down to Declan’s room. Standing in front of his door, I take a deep breath, and allow my mind to go to a place that’ll put me in the state I need to be in when he opens the door and looks at me. He needs to believe I’m harboring a deep pain inside, so I drift back twenty-three years. I’m being ripped out of my father’s arms, watching him fall to his knees as he’s cuffed. I can see the tears falling down his face, and when I feel my cheeks heat in the pain, the tears puddle in my eyes. I knock.

Lights.

Camera.

Action.

The door opens, and I look up to see Declan standing in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms that hang on his narrow hips that angle down from his broad, sculpted chest. My tears are heavy, but they don’t spill over. He takes one step towards me and pulls me into his arms, his cheek pressed to the top of my head, holding me tight. No words are spoken when he brings me inside his room and shuts the door.

I keep my arms around his waist as he walks me back to his room and over to his bed. Cradling my face in his hands, I look up at him, and his eyes are noticeably worried.

“Stay.”

With a nod of my head, he pulls the sheets back, and I crawl into his warm bed. He follows, scooping me into his arms. His body pressed against mine, my head resting on his chest, I take the comfort I need in this moment. My mind isn’t with Declan or Bennett or this whole fucked up scenario, it’s with my dad. I opened that gate for one second to trick Declan and now I’m five years old—scared and lost.

The first tear drops, and I fucking hate that I’m exposing this weakness. It’s one thing to manufacture pain for the sake of deception, but my father is very much real, and it hurts. I don’t want to think too much, so as Declan comforts me from what he believes is Bennett, I take the consoling for my father.

Neither of us says a word as I silently fight to contain the few weeps that break free, all the while Declan’s hold is firm and strong around me. I weave my legs with his and eventually allow myself to drift to sleep.