Page 286 of Sins & Secrets

“Do you want a drink?”

I nod. A drink would be good. Something to hold in my hands and busy myself with.

“Let’s step into the kitchen, then.” In Adrian’s kitchen, which is an elegant, masculine space with dark marble countertops and tall reclaimed wood shelves, he takes down two cut glass tumblers. Light bends through them, refracting as he cradles them in his large palms. Even his tumblers reek of wealth. “What would you like?” he asks.

“You choose,” I offer, not knowing what’s in his kitchen.

“Whiskey?” he questions. “I have a favorite you may not have tried before.”

“I don’t mind whiskey.”

“Chocolate cream cold brew whiskey,” he speaks clearly, opening cabinets and leaving me alone by the kitchen island, standing quite alone in the expansive space.

Once he has what he needs, the bottles lined up and large spherical ice cubes taking up space in the tumblers, he strips off his jacket so he’s just in his shirt from the office. Like his suit, his dress shirt is still pristine after a day of sitting in meetings and restructuring the company. My mouth waters at the thought of what’s hidden under the belt around his waist and the white shirt above.

How did we come to be here? How did I find myself in this penthouse, with a man like him?

“If you don’t care for it, I’ll happily drink both and get you something else,” he offers and I nod a thanks, deciding I should take that seat at the island after all.

He’s capable in the kitchen, mixing this drink like he’s made it a thousand times before. I have another flash of jealousy. Maybe he has, for some other woman, though it’s none of my business who he brings here or who he makes drinks for. It comes and goes, leaving me questioning how much he’s gotten to me. We’ve both been with other partners. And this, whatever is between us, is mutual.

Evening light glows around him as he tells me, “Let me know what you think.”

“Thank you,” I tell him as he hands me the heavy glass. The first sip goes down smooth. “Wow.” I never would have guessed chocolate and whiskey would be a combination so easy and delectable. He’s made it better than any bartender could have. It overwhelms me, how good it is.

“You like?” he questions, standing and leaning against the island.

“I do.”

“Now that you’ve seen mine, I’m wondering about yours,” he says, sipping his whiskey.

“My place is nothing like this,” I comment, a bit worried, but also blunt. I’m sure he’s aware. I don’t come fromthiskind of money and my position certainly doesn’t pay a salary where I could afford anything close to this in my lifetime.

Adrian sips his own whiskey, which he takes straight.

“I imagine you bring work home?” he asks.

“I prefer to stay at the office, but yes. My apartment is small. When I split with my ex, I sold off everything and bought a place in the West Village that I’d wanted for so long.”

“Hell’s Kitchen is fitting for you.” I nearly tell him I’m barely there, but then I realize what he’s revealed.

“How did you know?” I question and then answer for myself. “Did you snoop in the company files?”

“Of course I did. When I saw you that first day staring at me across the conference table, I already had your number.”

“Well, that’s not fair,” I say with a pout, although it comes out a lust-filled whisper.

“I don’t play fair.”

“So you liked me while I hated the thought of you?”

He nods. “It’s easy to hate the devil. So no offense taken.”

I laugh, the nervousness dissipating. The drink Adrian made for me is helping. His expression intensifies, though, and he takes another sip of whiskey. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re the devil anymore.” Without thinking much of it, I raise my drink and confide in him, “That name is solely reserved for my ex-husband now.”

His next question is casual: “What happened between you and your ex?”

Immediately I regret bringing Carl up in conversation at all. His name is the equivalent to an ice water bath.

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