Page 59 of Stick to the Deal
His gray eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Yes, of course. Excuse us, Serena.”
As we pass through the ballroom, he grips my elbow, pulling me up short. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”
“Fine. Why ever wouldn’t I be?” I don’t meet his eyes as I widen my debutante smile.
The rest of the gala is quickly over, though the time drags without the earlier air of lightness and fun. I smile and nod at each donor, asking all the right questions. Outside, I’m the happy society wife. Inside, I’m that same scared little girl, wondering why no one loves me.
Reginald is the only one to notice. He shoots me some concerned looks but doesn’t press it further.
The limo ride home is silent. My fingers dig into my arms as I stare out the window. The space between us is less than a few feet, but it might as well be miles. So different from the ride here, full of heated looks, both of us thinking about what his hands did to me in this dress. Was that only a few hours ago?
The wheels barely stop and I’m out the door and across the lobby, boarding the elevator without a backwards glance. I press the button for Reginald’s floor, willing the doors to close faster. His hand appears, catching the doors at the last second. Brows pinched over stormy gray eyes.
I hold my breath as he leans in, but he only stabs the button. The tension is so high, I can hardly stand still. The diamonds on my wedding band dig into my fingers as I make a fist, eliciting a fresh wave of pain and confusion. As soon as the elevator opens, I shoot out, my long legs eating up the distance despite the heels.
He follows close behind, like an enormous cat stalking its prey. “Would you like to tell me what the bloody hell is going on?”
I keep walking. Through the living room, and into his bedroom. This dress that once felt like a dream, is now a nightmare of barbed wire, and I’m desperate to be rid of it.
Reginald slams the bedroom door. “Goddamn it, Nic. Tell me what is going on.” He grabs my arm and turns me to face him.
Even in his anger, his grip is gentle. That touch shatters me all over again. My heart pounds. I clench my fingers, worried I’ll pull him closer instead of pushing him away. I want to hate him, but I can’t.
His eyes soften as they search my face. “Did someone say something?”
A harsh bark of a laugh claws my throat. “You could say that.”
I tear my arm from his grasp, turning away. Numb fingers grip at the zipper, trying to gain leverage.
“It was Monty, wasn’t it? What did he say?”
“Something illuminating.” The zipper finally moves in jerky bursts before sticking halfway down. I grit my teeth and contort my body to better grip the closure.
“For Christ’s sake, let me help you.” He takes two steps towards me, hands outstretched.
My temper flares. With a last tug, the zipper gives way, and the dress falls to the floor. I step out of the red silk puddle and stalk towards him wearing only my heels.
His eyes heat to molten steel as they rake my body before returning to my eyes.
Despite my rage, my inner self purrs in satisfaction at my effect on him. I lift my chin, filling myself with all the haughty air I can muster. “I want the truth. Even if you don’t think I’ll like the answer. Even if it’s uncomfortable. A lie will always be worse than the truth.”
He falters, surprised by this turn in conversation. “I agree.”
“I’ll ask you a series of questions and I only want yes or no answers.” He nods briskly. “Were you engaged to Serena Wentworth?”
He blanches and takes a step forward. “Who told you? It’s more compli…”
I hold my hand up, halting him mid-word. “Yes or no?”
Reginald’s jaw clenches. “Yes.” The word drips with ice.
“Is Serena interested in continuing the relationship?”
Emotions flash across his face. I can’t tell if it’s regret or guilt. “Yes.”
I nod. My eyes drop to the cold floors, the closet, anywhere but the man in front of me. “I better wash this hairspray out before bed.” My feet numbly walk to the en suite, pausing at the door without looking back. “I have an early flight back to Florida.” I slip into the bathroom, falling back against the door as I throw the lock.
He calls my name softly through the wood and tries the handle. “Nic, please, let me explain.” It sounds as though his forehead is pressed to the door, right by my own. I cover my mouth, desperate to stifle the sound of my broken breaths.
