Page 27 of His to Possess
I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. The sound of her soft gasp still rings in my head. She wouldn’t look at me as she fled from the kitchen, but I was pretty sure I saw moisture in her eyes.
Fuck. I made Lilahcry. The thought is unbearable. Even worse, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do about it. This is the part of relationships I don’t deal with. Emotions are messy and unpredictable and better left avoided—at least that’s what I’ve always believed. So why do I feel like I would give anything to make Lilah feel better right now?
My phone buzzes in my pocket, providing a welcome distraction. I answer without looking at the screen, expecting to hear Jane’s voice—it shouldn’t have taken her too long to track down Lilah’s boss.
“This is Matthews.”
“I know it’s Matthews, you stuffy old prick. You think I forgot what number I dialed?”
I grit my teeth. “Afternoon, Nathan.”
My best mate makes a disapproving noise I know is bullshit. “Where’s all that Matthews charm you’re always bragging about? You sound downright grumpy.”
I eye the bar cart in the corner. Oh, what the hell—a whiskey might be the only thing that gets me through this absolute fuckfest of a day.
“I’m a little stressed out,” I admit, pouring a generous measure into a tumbler.
“Well I hope you cheer the fuck up soon,” he says. “We can’t have you whining all over Eric Benson tomorrow.”
I bite out a low curse and Nate laughs. “You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Of course I fucking forgot,” I mutter, taking my whiskey out to the living room. Nate and I rarely cross paths in the business world, as he’s a lifelong academic and I spend the majority of my time making money for myself and my clients. But Nate also manages his late grandfather’s charitable foundation and occasionally we’ll work together on some cause or another. Our meeting with Eric Benson—another member of Club Wyld—to discuss our financing of his low-income micro loan venture completely slipped my mind in all the craziness with Lilah.
I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, taking in the view of the city spread out before me. I like top floors—my properties in New York and London are also high above the city. It’s a position that usually makes me feel confident, in control. From high above the rest of the world, I feel untouchable. Powerful.
Today I feel anything but. I clearly have no control over anything.
“Hey.” Nate’s voice is more serious now. “You okay?”
I wonder what he picked up on in my silence. Jonathan Chase the second—Nathan to his blue blood family and Nate to everyone else—has been my best mate for years. Our families run in the same social circles—though Nate takes great pleasure in thumbing his nose at his parents’ lofty expectations. It wasn’t until we ran into each other at Club Wyld that we realized how much we truly have in common.
“Philip?”
I open my mouth to tell him I’m fine, but somehow that’s not what comes out. “I have a girl here.”
He must have been sipping coffee, or perhaps a whiskey like me, because I hear the distinct sound of liquid being spit out. “What?”
“I said—”
“I heard what you said,” he cuts in. “I’m just not sure I believe it. You actually allowed a woman into your sanctum? Holy shit, man. This is unprecedented”
He’s one to talk. Before he met Harper, Nate was just as practiced in compartmentalizing his life as I am. We both share the belief that sex is best contained at the club—or at least, we did. Now Nate is blissfully happy living with his fiancée. And forget keeping a tight control on his home life—the last time I was at his brownstone, Harper had been in the middle of redecorating his home office. The only women I’ve ever even let into my office are Jane, when business requires it, and Mrs. Higgins, when she insists it needs dusting.
“It’s not like that,” I tell him. “Lilah is a friend of Veronica’s. She’s…in some kind of trouble.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Does this have anything to do with whatever happened at Rendezvous last night?”
I curse under my breath. Of course he heard about it. The BDSM social scene in Charlotte isn’t exactly huge. I should have expected talk of my million-dollar display would get around.
“Yes,” I tell him, since there’s no point in lying. Dozens of people watched me bid on her last night. “She entered herself into their virginity auction.”
He makes a disapproving noise. “I can’t believe they actually do that shit there.”
“You shouldn’t be so surprised. That place is seedy as hell, even worse than I expected it to be.”
“Yet you participated in the auction.” There’s no judgement in his voice. We know each other too well for that. When Nate was losing his shit over falling for Harper—who happened to be not only his student but also his college buddy’s little sister—I was the one to help him get his head out of his arse.
“You think I was going to sit there and let one of those bastards win her?”
