She nods. We walk into the now-empty restaurant, and I take her coat from her and place it over her shoulders. My hands twitch to take hers, but I place them at my sides.
My eyes hold hers; she looks at me as if she sees my soul.
“I miss you,” I whisper. She stands mute. “Please consider meeting me for coffee so we can discuss what happened.”
“Ivan, I…”
“If you want me to beg, I’ll go down on my knees now and plead for you to have coffee with me.” I bend my knee to kneel in front of her, lowering almost to the floor.
She chuckles, grabbing my elbow and pulling.
“Get up, you idiot,” she shrieks. “Call me.”
With that, she turns and walks from the restaurant, her ass swinging from side to side in that sexy red bandage dress I’ve removed from her body many times before.
Chapter forty-one
Amy
“I’ll see you this evening,” I say. “I’ll meet you there.”
The silence on the other end of the line stretches just enough to tell me he hates the idea. He wants to pick me up. He wants control of the moment, of the tone, of what happens next.
But if I go to our rendezvous under my own steam, then I can run if I need to. I can walk away before he has the chance to put my heart in a blender.
“I’ll meet you there,” I repeat, firmer. “Goodbye, Ivan.”
He mutters something incomprehensible, and I hang up.
As I stare at the phone in my hand, a stupid smile plays on my lips—round one to me?even if my heart is beating like it’s afraid I’ve made a mistake.
When my phone buzzed on the kitchen worktop, my heartrate increased from nought to sixty in one beat. I told him to call me, and he did. I didn’t expect him to.
After not having heard from him for months, part of me thought he wouldn’t call, that he’d written me off as not worth the trouble. That last night had been a chance coincidence.
But knowing Ivan, he doesn’t leave much to luck, especially not when something matters to him. He is used to making the world bend to his will.
I didn’t dare hope there was an ulterior motive for him being there. But there could have been. And the intention in his eyes was the writing on the wall.
It’s a rainy November afternoon, and the festive spirit of Christmas hasn’t quite graced the city yet. Everything is tinged gray?the sky, the buildings, the roads, and the people. Rain falls as I emerge from the underground station. I quickly raise my umbrella and stalk off in search of my destination.
We’ve agreed to meet at a small coffee shop for a drink.
I still haven’t decided how to play it with him. All I know is I’m not just going to roll over and let him back into my life. Amy Corrigan doesn’t give out free passes to her heart. Not anymore. Not when I’ve become an expert at stitching myself back together, and I don’t plan to do it again.
As appealing as having him nestled between my legs again is, I need to have more respect for myself. Yes, in hindsight, I overreacted to the news that he’d bought my gym, but he still kept it from me. He hurt me. And he doesn’t get to walk back in just because he looks like sin wrapped in cashmere.
He’s sitting in the corner, facing the door, his nose in his phone, working, no doubt. Today, he looks dressed for the weekend with a simple black sweater and jeans paired with trainers. Normal, almost. It’s comforting in a way. The distance between us is immediately reduced. His hair is messy in that deliberate, ‘this is how I woke up’ style, then he looks up…
Hell. Those eyes, that smile, send me into free fall. My knees are making it difficult to stay on my feet. The butterfliesthat disappeared months ago return to my stomach with a vengeance.
Traitorous whore. We’re making this difficult for him, remember. You’re not getting any action today. The rabbit will have to do.
He stands, and pulls out my chair for me, but doesn’t touch me?he keeps his distance and sits back down. His thick fingers flex on the edge of the table. The restraint is almost my undoing. I clamp my fingers around my thighs to stop myself reaching across.
“Thank you for coming,” he says. “It’s so good to see you again, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. The word glides over my skin like a memory I shouldn’t crave. He’s the only person who’s ever called me that. I love how it sounds on his tongue.
