I didn’t say it with any venom, but he sounds so horrified and wounded, I’m almost sorry I said it.Almost.
“Mel, what other option did we have? Rush wasn’t going to let me leave that house without paying him what I owed. I don’t have that kind of cash.”
“Not to mention the money you owe in Las Vegas,” I remind him.
His brow furrows. “That’s right,” he says, keeping his voice low enough to be drowned out by the rest of the kitchen activity. He reaches out and takes my hand between his. His palms are moist and cool, but his grip is firm. His eyes implore me. “Listen to me. I love you. I know I’m never going to be able to make this up to you, but I’m going to do my damnedest to try.”
“Then you can start by telling me why you kept your gambling problems a secret from me.”
He flinches, his head snapping back before he blows out a heavy sigh. On a low curse, he drops his gaze to our joined hands. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to see you looking at me the way you are now. I didn’t want to lose you. Idon’twant to lose you.”
As I stare at the top of his lowered head, more of Jared Rush’s words come back to me. All those little seeds of doubt that I wanted to deny have started putting down roots since I left his house this morning.
“Are you keeping any other secrets from me?”
“What? No.” His head comes up, his gaze stark. “I’m not, I swear to you, Mel.”
I want to believe him. God, I’m desperate to believe him. After several months together, I need to be able to trust that this kind, loving man is who he’s shown me to be. If the solemnity in his handsome face is any indication, he must be telling me the truth.
So why am I still hearing Jared Rush’s deep voice warning me that Daniel is hiding something from me? That he doesn’t deserve me?
Because I’m already allowing Rush to take me down a dark path, that’s why. It has to be. Maybe he only said those things to manipulate me, to begin deconstructing me before his brush makes its first stroke on the canvas. Or maybe he just thinks I’m a fool for loving Daniel.
Anyway, it doesn’t matter why Jared Rush said what he did.
It doesn’t matter what he thinks.
If I have my doubts about Daniel, they’re my own to either work through or leave behind. Right now, I’m not sure I’m ready to do either one. Especially not here, in the middle of the clamor and chaos of the diner.
“I should get back to my tables.”
When I pull my hand away, Daniel comes off the chair to stand with me. His touch moves to my shoulders, resting lightly there, his thumbs stroking absently. “What time does your shift end? I have a client meeting in an hour that I can’t miss, but I want to see you. I need to see you.”
“Daniel, I can’t.” I step out of his touch, out of his reach.
“Can’t, or don’t want to?”
“I have a paper to write tonight.” Which is true, but also a welcome excuse for some space to myself. It won’t last nearly long enough, though. “In the morning, I have to go back to Rush’s place,” I say, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and trepidation over the idea. “We’re going to his studio in the Hamptons tomorrow.”
“The Hamptons.” Daniel scoffs, his voice tight. A bleak acknowledgment settles over his face before he curses under his breath. “I hate everything about this damn arrangement. You belong tome, Melanie. I hate the idea of Rush being alone with you. I hate the idea of him looking at you, even if he says it’s only to paint you.”
I can tell he hates this, and for the first time, I wonder if that might have been the point. Knowing what little I do about Jared Rush, it wouldn’t surprise me if he isn’t taking some amount of satisfaction in the idea of causing Daniel distress.
“How long have you and Jared Rush known each other?”
He shrugs dismissively. “I guess about a month, a little more. We were introduced at the firm, when he approached us about his Gramercy Park hotel project. Why?”
“I’m just curious.” But it’s more than that. I am suspicious in a way that makes little sense to me. Suspicious of Daniel, of Jared Rush, of things I’ve never questioned before in my life.
Meeting Jared Rush has raised countless questions in my mind. He’s stirring a paranoia in me, along with other, uninvited feelings I can’t deny. Those feelings still linger inside me as powerfully as his dark, dangerous voice.
“Mel, what’s wrong?” Daniel reaches for me and I flinch at his touch.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, distracted and edgy. “I should get back to work now.”
“All right.” He frowns, letting his hand fall slowly to his side.
He walks me out to the busy restaurant dining room. When we pause at the exit, he leans forward to kiss me and I move my head, giving him my cheek instead of my lips. I tell myself it’s because we’re in front of a diner full of nosy customers, but the small niggle of unease in my stomach is saying something different.
