“You never said anything,” I say carefully.
"I should have made a move then," he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Should have pulled you aside at one of those boring dinner parties and kissed you until you couldn't think straight."
"I don’t know how Ronan would have felt about that,” I manage, and Desmond shrugs, his heated gaze still fixed on mine.
“I shouldn’t have cared.”
The conversation shifts back to small talk after that, but I can feel the intensity in the air still, the way he can’t stop looking at me between bites. And then, as our dishes are swept away and we put in an order for dessert, Desmond reaches for my hand again.
"I've been thinking," Desmond says abruptly, "maybe it's time we told your brother about us."
The suggestion catches me off guard, and I nearly choke on my wine. "Really?"
"I don’t like dancing around this, Annie. I want you—more than I probably should—and I'm tired of sneaking around like we're teenagers. We’re adults. We can date if we want to. I should have been at that party with you, had you on my arm. We shouldn’t have to make excuses for what we want."
There's something in his voice, an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. He's right, of course. We can't keep our relationship a secret forever, and Ronan deserves to know what's happening in my life. Even if he won't be thrilled about it. All I need to do is explain to him why it’s a good idea. He’ll comearound, I’m sure. This would be a good move for our families. And Desmond is handsome. A good match on paper. He wants me. What could be wrong with it, really?
"He's not going to be happy at first," I warn. "He's never particularly liked your family, and after what happened with Siobhan..."
"That's exactly why we need to tell him," Desmond insists, reaching across the table to take my hand. "I'm not my sister, Annie. I'm nothing like her. Ronan and I just got off on the wrong foot because they never got on. But he'll never see that if we keep hiding."
His fingers are warm against mine, steady and reassuring. Maybe he's right. Maybe it's time to stop letting the past dictate our future.
“Soon,” I promise. “I just want this to be just us for a little while longer. I promise we don’t have to keep it a secret for long.”
Desmond frowns. “How long?”
“One or two more dates,” I say quickly. “Then I’ll talk to Ronan, first. Broach the idea and see how he reacts. Maybe in a few weeks, we can make it official.”
Desmond doesn’t look pleased, but he finally nods just as our dessert arrives. “Alright,” he relents. “A few more weeks.”
By the time dessert is finished, we’ve polished off the bottle of wine. What I’ve drunk so far has left me feeling loose and daring, ready for whatever comes next.
“To The Grand?” Desmond asks as we leave the restaurant, and I nod, feeling more adventurous than I have in a long time.
"Lead the way."
Leon stops me just outside the restaurant. “I’m not sure a nightclub is the best idea—” he starts to say, and I see Desmond step forward, his mouth tight.
“I’ve got her,” he says flatly, glaring at my security head. “I can keep her safe as well as you can.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Connelly, her brother pays me to keep her safe. And I’m going to do that.” Leon looks at me. “It’s hard for a few men to make sure you’re protected in a space like that, Annie. If you want to go, maybe I should?—”
“It’s fine, Leon.” I take a breath, trying to think through the soft haze of wine. “I’ll be fine. Come along and keep an eye out, but no one is going to come after me. I can go out dancing.”
Leon looks uncomfortable, but after a moment, he nods. “We’ll be sweeping the place when we go in,” he says. “I don’t want to take risks with your safety, Annie.”
Desmond’s hand flattens on the small of my back, guiding me toward his waiting car. “I’ll be driving her,” he shoots over his shoulder toward Leon, and he’s opening the door for me and urging me inside before I can think twice about it.
The nightclub is part dance floor, part lounge, with bottle service that costs an eye-watering amount. Desmond leads me to the VIP section, telling the bottle girl to bring us Cristal, and slides an arm around my waist as he pulls me close. I can feel the heat of his body sinking through the silk of my dress, his hard muscles caging me in. I don’t know if the pounding of my heart is arousal or fear—but they could be the same, couldn’t they?
Maybe I need a man who pushes. Who makes me question my boundaries. Maybe then I can stop overthinking everything.
The music is loud and hypnotic, the bass line thrumming through the floor and up into my bones. The champagne arrives promptly, and Desmond passes me a glass, his gaze fixed on my mouth as I take a sip.
He leans in, his thumb pressing against my lower lip as he kisses me, licking the drops of champagne away from my mouth. Desire fizzes in my blood along with the alcohol, and I feel a shiver down my spine as he tosses the champagne back andreaches for my hand, pulling me up from my seat with my glass still half-full.
“Come dance with me,” he says, his voice low and rough, and it’s not a request.
