Page 39 of Beyond Question

By the time the main course arrives—the same underwhelming surf and turf as last year, sadly—I can barely sit still with the weight of those sea glass green eyes on me.

Travis’ gaze is heavy and heated and,good grief, dare I say… possessive.

I wish I didn’t like it.

I wish I didn’t likehim.

But I do. Isodo.

Seeing him again stole my breath. It poked another hole in my resolve.

He’s even more beautiful than usual in his bespoke tuxedo, and the desire to be by his side is a relentless pull that I find difficult to ignore. Doesn’t help that I no longer want to ignore it.

But there’s no denying the invisible string between us, a tether, something tangible that draws my gaze to his again and again.

And though the man represents everything I detest about this city and the very things I’ve worked so hard to avoid since coming here twenty-nine years ago, I want him.

Men like Travis…

Familieslike the Wilders…

They’re bad news. Dangerous, unscrupulous, and willing to stop at nothing to remain at the top.

You can’t walk two city blocks in Manhattan without coming across something belonging to Wilder Holdings. Be it property or actual human souls, they have their hands in everything. AndTravis is the only heir to the throne—whether he’s currently on the outs with his father or not.

Rylan’s fiancé is another prime example. As if being the namesake and sole heir to Reed Enterprises wasn’t enough, the man purchased half of Manhattan—what his best buddy’s family over there didn’t already own, of course. And then, because even that wasn’t enough to satiate the illustrious Cabot Reed, he took over his mother’s publishing company and catapulted it right up to the top of the food chain.

We’re supposed to believe that was strictly based on merit and not something being the son of a multi-billionaire played a part in? Sure thing.

I don’t know how Rylan puts up with him, honestly.

Charles reaches over me to grab the carafe of water on the table, then begins to tip it over my empty glass. I raise a hand and he sets it down, then I grab it and pour my own. Speaking of putting up with men…

A quick glance across the table and I find Travis watching me, an amused smirk pulling at his full lips and teasing at the dimple I know is hiding in his cheek. He winks and a flutter of wings brushes against my ribs, but I manage not to let him see the way his attention unnerves me, and though I knock the carafe loudly against my plate when I go to set it down, I don’t spill anything.

I turn toward Charles and smile politely, but his scowl is so comical I have to bring my hand to my mouth and pretend to cover a cough to hide my giggle.

Why did I agree to attend tonight’s awards ceremony with him?

We’ve been out a handful of times, whenever he visits New York for business, and I have had to explain to him every single one of those times that I can do for myself. I don’t need a knightin shining armor to hold open my door and I certainly don’t need my date to refill my water glass.

Maybe it’s silly, but growing up among overbearing, controlling men, feeling stifled and suffocated by the time I reached adulthood, the need to be self-sufficient, self-reliant, and self-made, became my entire focus. Well, that and certain circumstances that forced my hand.

But I digress.

I became self-reliant at a young age because I had no other choice, and I have remained that way ever since. Sure, it’s led me to a lifetime of solitude, but I’m okay with that. I have my daughter, my business. I’ve never needed a companion. My gaze flicks across to Travis again and the pinch in my chest makes me realize that may no longer be the case.

But it makes me realize something else that curls my hands into fists in my lap.

I know it’s not Travis, specifically, but it’s men like him. It’s men like the ones in this room that have kept me from finding love. That have kept me from sharing my life with someone.

Gatekeepers who pride themselves on wealth and power above all else.

Travis doesn’t realize this, but it’s men just like him that keep me from letting him in.

Men I’ve run from for the entirety of my adult life.

Too long I’ve worked alongside these very men, tiptoeing around their delicate egos… always being careful, so careful. And never being too much.

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