“I don’t know what to think.” My voice cracks. I hate feeling so confused. “I don’t know if you’re still involved in your father’s world. Or if any of the rumors online are true. Stories link your brother Lucien to Matteo Romero’s death. How do I reconcile that when I barely know you?” I pause, reaching for my wine andtaking a sip. “Right now, I’m not sure if I like you or if I’m letting lust push me to make stupid decisions.”
His hand clamps around mine under the table—not hard, just enough to stop the shaking I didn’t realize had started.
“You’re not stupid.” His voice is steel-wrapped velvet. “Of course, I protect my family, as anyone does, but I won’t allow anyone to use me either. Not even you.”
“I’m not using you.” At least I don’t think I have been up until tonight. That isn’t who I am, nor who I want to be.
“No? Then what is this?” He nods subtly toward my parents. “You act like you don’t know me. Like what happened between us was some accident you want to pretend never happened.”
I swallow hard. I knew there had been a possibility that Stephen would be here this evening, but the sight of him had thrown me completely off balance. I would have loved nothing more than to proudly introduce him to my parents, but after my mother met him, her opinion had been set, and my father’s soon after. I had hoped he’d ignore my presence, saving me from having to distance myself in front of my family, if only to save them the worry, but in turn, and by doing so, I’d hurt Stephen.
“I don’t want to pretend. I just—Stephen, I’m trying to protect myself and my family just as you do.”
“From me.”
“From everything,” I whisper. “From what this could do to my family, to my job, to my reputation?—”
“And what about what it does to you?” he asks quietly. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?”
“Stephen—” It’s pointless arguing. Idolook at him. I want him every second of every hour, and that no doubt was conveyed on my face. Hell, even my mother noticed this evening…
“The way you fall apart when I kiss you. That has to be worth fighting for.”
I feel like the air has been vacuumed out of the room. Beside me, my mother lifts her wineglass, oblivious. “You’re being cruel,” I whisper.
“No,” he says. “I’m being fair. I’m asking you to own it. Own what you want.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. Not because he’s wrong. But because he’s too close to being right. I pull my hand out of his slowly and sit up straighter. “This isn’t a fair conversation.”
“Life isn’t fair.”
“Not like this.” My voice shakes. “Not with my parents right here. Not with everything at stake. You can’t corner me like this.” I wanted out of the conversation and, at this point, I’d say anything for it to end—for us to just sit quietly and ignore everything that sits between us.
He watches me, eyes dark and unreadable. “Then tell me not to try.”
I stare at him. I can’t say that. Ineedto—I know I do—but to form those words…impossible.
Something shifts between us. Something heavy and inevitable. Briar’s voice rings out over the speakers as another auction item appears on the screen, but I hear none of it. Not a word. I’m too busy drowning in the look Stephen gives me—hungry, angry, wounded, determined.
I can’t sit here another second.
“I need air,” I murmur abruptly, pushing my chair back and fleeing as if the hounds of hell are on my heels.
My mother glances over, surprised. “Are you all right, darling? You look flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I’ll be back momentarily.”
Stephen rises with me instantly, ignoring my silent plea for him to stay seated.
“Where are you going?” my father asks, suspicion slicing into his voice.
“Restroom,” I say, not wanting my father to follow me—not if Stephen seems determined to also.
Stephen adds, “I’ll show you where they are.”
My father’s jaw clenches, but he can’t object without causing a scene—and my family never causes scenes.
I turn sharply, not trusting myself to breathe if I stay another second. “Fine,” I hiss.
