His arms come around me. He kisses my hair and rests his chin on my head.
I relax back against him. Being in his arms feels right. “Why this Christmas? Why not any others in the past five years?”
“We met just after Christmas. You looked so young and nervous, but you were fierce. You proved yourself to me within thirty seconds.”
I smile in the darkness. “You hired me on the spot. Dragged me into your next meeting.”
“You made yourself indispensable. I couldn’t let you go after that.”
“On my first work anniversary, you took me to lunch at Rockefeller. Gave me the watch.” I touch my wrist, which feels naked without the Rolex.
“I wanted to give you more.” He nuzzles my ear. “I had learned your mom passed away just before we met. That the holiday was important to you.”
“But you didn’t let me have the holiday this year. Even though you were doing the work with Sandra. I thought you were becoming a kinder, gentler Dread Lord and then… you trapped me here.”
He presses his face to my hair. “I’m the worst,” he says. He adds something else, but his voice is muffled.
“What?”
“I said, because of Rinaldo.”
“Rinaldo?” It takes me a moment to place the name. “Captain of the Thrusters?”
“He asked you out to the New Year’s party.”
“How did you know?”
“I overheard you and Sloan.”
I’m confused. Why are we talking about Rinaldo? Then I feel how tense Piers is. “Wait, are you jealous?”
No answer.
“That’s why you turned mean on Tuesday and then dragged me up here.” It’s all making sense.
“I’m an ogre.”
“It’s okay,” I sigh.
“It’s not. You deserve so much better than me.” His head is bowed against mine, his breath on the back of my neck.
“No one’s irredeemable, Piers. Not even you. But you could’ve just told me you wanted to spend the holidays with me. You could’ve just said, “Dammit, Wellesley, my feelings will not be repressed. I want you. I’ve tried to resist but can no longer.” My Mr. Darcy accent isn’t working, so I switch to Eliza Doolittle.“Can you Adam and Eve it? Trouble and strife, guv’nor.” I add some Cockney rhyming slang for good measure.
“I could not say that, actually. Because that is gibberish.”
“Well, you could’ve saidsomething.”
“I couldn’t, though.”
“Why not?”
His sigh shakes my whole body. “Because I’m the worst. I kept imagining you alone, missing your mom, and I couldn’t bear it. But that’s not all. I thought that on New Year’s, you were going to be with him. I thought this was my chance. My last chance to win you.”
He wants to win me?
He grips me hard, rubbing my belly, nestling me deeper in his arms like he’s afraid I’ll turn to mist and slip away. “And I fucked it up. I was selfish.” His voice is raw with regret. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough to apologize for the past five years, but I do regret my behavior.”
A genuine apology? From the Dread Lord? I can’t breathe.
