Page 73 of One Little Victory

“I appreciate you asking, Simon. I didn’t like the way we left things.”

“Me either.” I paused and ran a hand through my hair, leaning back in the chair, then forward to clasp her hands in mine. She tugged them away, and I reluctantly let go, but her rosebud lips twitched in the briefest smile, and the nervousness wrapped around my chest loosened.

“You look gorgeous tonight—stunning. I regret not insisting you accompany me because I don’t want any other man in this room to dare look your way. You should have been on my arm—in my arms—all night, so everyone knows whose you are.”

I knew I didn’t really own her, and fuck, this thing of ours might very well have an expiration date—might have already expired—but she needed a visceral reminder of how serious I was.

Her pupils dilated with my words, and there went my cock again, straining to get closer to her. Not that I could blame him. My first instinct when she entered the banquet hall was to run up to her like a fucking caveman, beat my chest, and threaten anyone who came within a five-foot radius of us.

“There’s something seriously wrong with this Brad guy’s character if opportunity controls his loyalty. My initial reaction to hearing about your past with him was startling, but not because I thought less of you. Because he made you think less of you, honey. If you want me to back off and leave you alone, I will. But I’d like the chance to show you exactly what you deserve. Because…”

I’m in love with you.

My voice faltered, and I clenched my fists, punking out at the last minute and dropping my head. I missed clunking it on the beige tablecloth by a fraction of an inch but almost wished I had, thinking the hard wood might knock some sense or bravery into me.

“Because why, Simon?” she asked, almost giving me whiplash from jerking my head up so fast. Her eyebrows were scrunched together, doubt shown as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

The chairs we sat in were draped in beige fabric with green ivy twined around the high backs. The ivy matched the anxiety twisting around my lungs, making each breath a struggle. I wasn’t sure how deep her insecurities were or if she could truly move on from them. Just like I wasn’t sure if I’d always carry the lingering doubt that she was holding something back and keeping secrets. I understood her hesitancy to trust, but she had to try—we both had to try.

“Because I’m not willing to give you up, honey. We deserve a shot—a real shot. What do you say? No more secrets?”

A flush crept up her neck and cheeks, making me want to chase it to her lips and seal it with a kiss. Things always made sense when we were touching—when we were kissing. But the non-caveman part of my brain tried to focus on whatever her answer would be.

“I’d like that, Simon. I want us to be real. Will you come over tomorrow so we can talk more?”

“Why not now? There’s no reason for me to be here. I’m done with my father. We could go somewhere quiet, private,” I pleaded.

If I could get her out of here, maybe there was a way to pry the mysterious key message from her.

“Not tonight, Simon. There’s too much on my mind. And I’m so proud of you for standing up to your father. You’re an amazing man, and I thought Bobbie looked a little bitter tonight.”

“Who?”

A coy smirk crossed her lips, and she reached for her martini, taking a drink and glancing behind me. I looked over my shoulder, where my father continued his attempts to burn a hole in the back of my head, and my mother carried on an animated conversation with Isabella.

“Bobbie, of course. I figured when I saw your father again, it would be the name that annoyed him the most.”

Oh, my sexy little instigator.

“Ha. Please let me be there the first time you call him that.”

“Absolutely, and thank you for understanding about tonight.”

I might as well start with the honestly.

“Well, I don’t understand, honey, but I would love a dance. What do you say?”

I stood, reaching forward and holding out my hand. She did the same, slipping her hand into mine and entwining our fingers. “I’d like that very much, Simon.”

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