“Whoa.” He laughs. “Steady on. How much of a lightweight are you? I knew you Americans can’t hold your drink, but this is ridiculous.”
I shake my head. “You said it was just a splash. I saw you…” My tongue is thick in my mouth. “I saw you pour it.”
I’m on the couch again. Stephen’s leg is pressed against mine. He brushes his hand over my hot cheek and tucks my hair behind my ear.
“You really are beautiful,” he says. “And so talented. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
“I’m with Dane.” My fierce declaration comes out soft and slurred. “Get away from me.”
His hand is on my thigh. “Your boyfriend doesn’t have to know. This is our secret, right? You agreed.”
I shake my head again, and the room spins. “I didn’t. Just a drink.”
“You’re talented, but you won’t get ahead in your career without the right connections. I’m a useful person to know. We should have a good relationship.”
“No.” It’s all I can manage when everything is swirling around me.
Cool air hits my chest.
“You’re so flushed,” Stephen says as he parts another button on my blouse.
I try to bat his hands away, but he easily brushes me off.
“Stop.” It’s little more than a slurred whisper.
My stomach churns, heightening my nausea.
The cool air caressing my bare stomach is a blissful relief from the heat that’s surging beneath my skin. I groan at the sweet reprieve, and my muscles relax.
“That’s better,” Stephen praises. “I knew you could be friendly. There’s no need to be so uptight.”
Tears wet my lashes, blurring the spinning world.
Dane.I want Dane.
The hands that are touching me are all wrong. The fingers are slenderer, the palms slick and clammy. He gropes at me without finesse, exploring my body for his own pleasure rather than mine.
My eyes slide closed, and my low moan of despair fills the cramped office.
50
DANE
The sign on the gallery door is flipped toclosed, but the door is unlocked. Abigail must still be here with Stephen.
Irritation tightens my jaw. She was supposed to return to the penthouse nearly twenty minutes ago. I’ve tried to give her space to work—I have to respect her independence—but I can’t wait any longer.
I should’ve given her a damn phone so I can reach her whenever I want.
Or I should’ve just accompanied her to her meeting at the gallery. I should’ve stayed by her side, where I can watch over her. I should keep her on a leash so that she’s never out of my sight.
I shake my head sharply and push open the door. She won’t thank me if I burst into her meeting like an enraged, possessive brute.
But I can’t bring myself to put on my civilized mask, either.
Stephen will have to deal with the cold, clinical monster at my core. It’s the best I can do at the moment when all I want is to punish him for keeping Abigail from me.
I walk through the gallery, searching for them. The lights are still on, but I don’t hear their voices echoing from any of the spacious rooms.
