At least, I hoped I did. I wanted to show Gray he couldn’t awe, charm, or shame me into letting him set the terms of whatever this twisted thing was between us anymore. Or maybe I needed to prove it to myself.
I stared at my knees, pleating the scalloped hem of my dress between my fingers. Anyway, that was the plan.
We drew up to the hotel, which had a discreet sign and three doormen out front. Not the sort of place you stayed on an adjunct professor’s salary.Destiny Gaylehad obviously been very good to Gray.
My stomach clenched. In anger, I told myself.
Tim gave the keys to the valet, and we walked into the lobby.
“Right.” I slipped off my wrap. Took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
Tim’s gaze dropped briefly before he looked me in the eyes. “Nice dress.”
I grinned, reassured. “Reeti calls it cleavage, cuppage, and the Underwear of Death.”
“Because you look... lethal?”
“Because it’s killing me,” I confided. “I can’t breathe.”
An actual smile. “Ah.”
He put his hand at the small of my back, a polite touch to guide me across the lobby. Something inside me tensed and then relaxed. “I’m going in alone,” I blurted.
His hand dropped away. “As you wish.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just need...”To trust myself.
“Space,” he supplied.
I nodded gratefully.
“I’ll be at the bar,” he said.
I walked away, already missing that light, reassuring pressure at my back.
The hotel bar was decorated like a library with dark wood and red leather, old books and portraits of dead white men. Gray was already seated at a table.
He got up as I approached. “Dee, darling.”
This time he didn’t make the mistake of aiming for my mouth. He kissed me on both cheeks, lingering long enough to make my stomach swoop in remembered desire and revulsion.
I inhaled, more shaken than I wanted to admit. “Hi.” That double kiss... It was pretentious, right? What was he, French all of a sudden?
“Menus, please,” he said to the server.
“I told you I don’t want dinner.”
“But here you are.” He smiled. “You ran away before we had the chance to celebrate my success. Let me treat you.”
The familiar pull of his gravity sucked at me. I set my feet, standing my ground. “Can I have some water, please?” I asked the server.
“Don’t be a martyr, darling. A glass of pinot grigio for the lady,” Gray said, waving me to a chair. “And I’ll have another Hennessy.”
He owed me, I thought. A drink, at least. And he’d managed my order without sneering about my taste in wine. I sat.
The server looked at me. I nodded. “Thank you.”
He handed Gray a menu and went off to fetch our drinks.
