Page 62

The bartender went to make our drinks, and I finally let out the laugh I’d been holding in. “You look a little shellshocked, boss.”

“I just … I wasn’t expecting that.” He paused to eye me. “Maybe it’s not something you should’ve told me. I’m sorry for prying.”

“If I wasn’t four Malibu and Cokes deep, I probably wouldn’t have told you, but you might’ve heard about it anyway. Zach’s interests are no secret around this town. Most people already know what he’s into.”

“And you … aren’t into it?” He looked like he’d tried not to ask the question and lost the battle, his curiosity winning out.

“Nope.”

He frowned. “But how does that work? If you were together for seven years, then that means …”

“Like I said, when I was with Zach, I wanted it to work so much that I forced myself into a shape that didn’t fit me. It ate away at me over time, and it took me way too long to realise it. But the last six years have been so much better. My life is my own now. I don’t belong to anyone, and I love it that way.”

“Here you go. That’ll be thirty euros,” the bartender said, sliding our drinks to us while Tristan continued to study me. Before I could withdraw my wallet, he was handing over his card.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” I started, but then the payment had already gone through, so I sighed. “Thank you for paying. That’s very kind. I’ll buy your next one.”

Tristan nodded, though I could tell he had no intention of letting me pay for any of his drinks. He seemed old-fashioned in that way.

Before I came over here, I’d planned on this being my last drink, but I could see that Samara was having a whale of a time over with Lou and the others. The entire table had just erupted in laughter over some shared joke, and it appeared that her night was only getting started. We were grown women, but I’d always had a strict rule of not leaving any friends behind on a night out, which meant I wouldn’t be going home until she was ready for me to put her in a cab. My apartment was less than five minutes away, so the driver could easily drop me off on his way to Samara’s.

“He asked me about you when he was fixing my car,” Tristan said, lifting his glass and taking a sip of whiskey.

My eyebrows shot up. “Zach did? What did he ask?”

“He wanted to know if you were seeing anyone. It’s why I assumed the relationship breakup was more recent.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s just being nosy, and it’s typical Dom behaviour. He feels an ownership even though the relationship is long over.”

Tristan shifted a little closer, tilting his head in curiosity before he asked in a hushed voice. “So, Dom as in dominant?”

A faint hint of colour stained his cheeks, and oh my God, he really was adorable. His fresh, citrusy aftershave tickled my nose, his elbow resting gently against mine. I suddenly realised how close we were. I was aware of him studying me once again, searching my face for a clue or some sort of confirmation. If I were sober, I’d be running a mile from this entire interaction, but my tipsy self somehow found the conversation exhilarating. It wasn’t often that I got to be the more mature and experienced one when it came to sex talk, especially since I’d basically been celibate for years, but there was something addictive about Tristan’s interest, as well as his cluelessness.

“You’re acting like you’ve never heard of any of this before,” I said with a faint smile as I lifted my glass for a sip.

“Well, I haven’t, not really. It’s not something I’ve ever looked into,” he admitted, sheepishly. “Aside from that one time when Nuala tried to tell me the plot to Fifty Shades of Grey, and I begged her to stop,” he said, surprising a chuckle out of me.

“Oh, no, that’s definitely not a story you want to be told about by a sibling.”

“That’s what I said!” he exclaimed, and then we were both laughing. When we settled down, he asked, “Does it make me naïve not to know about this stuff?

“Definitely not. I wish I never knew about it,” I said, a lingering sadness in my voice.

“You really hated it that much?”

I shrugged, a blush staining my skin. “Guess I’ve always been pretty vanilla in that regard. Don’t get me wrong, the domination stuff I could probably live with, but the pain—”

“Pain?” Tristan questioned, his features shifting to something a little more concerned than curious. I noticed his fingers tightening around his glass. There was a flicker in his jaw, like he was bothered by the idea of anyone hurting me, least of all an ex-partner. My heart fluttered in my chest.

“Sadism is a part of it too. That’s the side I could just never …” I trailed off, and a moment of What on earth are you doing talking to your boss about this? hit me. I was saying way too much and should probably reel it back. But there was just something about Tristan that had me spilling things I wouldn’t normally spill. Something about his kind, puppy eyes that were both worldly and somehow innocent at the same time made me open up.

“Anyway,” I sniffed. “That’s in the past now.”

Tristan’s eyebrows were furrowed, a dark look on his face as he took another sip of whiskey before asking, “He never did anything to really hurt you, did he?”

Again, the sadness struck me, and I was more disappointed in myself than angry at Zach. He’d been open from the start about his preferences, but I’d never given enough value to my own. I’d let him do things to me I didn’t want, faked that I was into it, because I wanted his love more than I cared about being treated well, and I allowed myself to suffer for years, ending things far later than I should’ve.

“Nothing I hadn’t consented to.”