“Oh, so we can do all of the above then?”

  “No,” I bark out.

  “Tell me. Did you think of me? Did you touch yourself as you did? Did you get mad at yourself for doing both?”

  My pulse races wildly and it beats so loud I swear he can hear it.

  Desperate and embarrassingly needy, I duck under his arm and slam my hand against the stop button so that the elevator starts again.

  Holden’s laugh rings out, and it takes only seconds before the car stops at the next floor. And when it opens, I don’t care what floor it’s on, I’m getting off.

  No pun intended.

  The car dings and I walk off as others walk on. I turn to face Holden, standing in the back of the elevator, his head above almost everyone else’s and his eyes fixed on me.

  Just as the doors begin to shut, I finally respond to him. “Yes. I did, in fact.” I grin. “You were magnificent.”

  The last thing I see before the doors close is the flare of his nostrils and the widening of his eyes.

  Jesus.

  It’s only been two days and that’s how he greets me? Hungry. Flirty. Devastating.

  How’s it going to be after more days have passed?

  THIRTY-ONE

  Rowan

  “You said yes. We were shocked and made bets that you still wouldn’t show. So cheers to you actually coming out with us and socializing for a bit.” Caroline lifts her glass of wine, as do Sloane and the fourth friend in our quartet, Victoria.

  I level all three of them with a look before I join my glass to theirs. When I do, a cheer goes up that has me rolling my eyes.

  “C’mon. I’m not that bad,” I say. They all glance at each other and burst out laughing. “Well, maybe I am.”

  “Quick. Someone write that down,” Caroline says loudly, motioning generally to the bar’s crowd.

  And it is crowded for a weeknight. Country music plays and the after-work crowd chatters animatedly. The line at the bar is a few people thick and there isn’t an open seat at any of the tables.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” our waiter says.

  “Yes?” Sloane asks.

  “This round has been paid for,” he says as we all glance at each other, confused. He sets fresh drinks in front of us and I look up, searching the crowd for Holden, half expecting him to be sitting at the bar, much like he was when I was on my date with Gregory.

  But he’s nowhere to be found. Just as I’m about to give up, I meet Chad’s eyes. He smiles and tips his glass to me as my own smile falters.

  “Compliments of that gentleman over there,” he says, nodding in Chad’s direction.

  Everyone at the table turns as Chad approaches, grin wide, swagger on full display. “Ladies,” he says and holds his hands up. “I have no intention of interrupting you, but I saw you here and wanted to help you celebrate whatever it is you’re celebrating.”

  “We’re not celebrating—”

  “Yes, we are. We’re celebrating Rowan having a new man,” Caroline says, cutting me off.

  I sputter, and my own expression probably matches Chad’s. “There is no new man,” I finally get out and roll my eyes. “Caroline has an overactive imagination.” If I could reach her under the table, I’d kick her.

  “Well. Okay. Um…” Chad looks crestfallen, and I hate the sight. “Enjoy your drinks.”

  “Chad. Wait.” I rise from the table and jog the few feet toward him.

  He stops and gives me a puppy-dog smile. “Have a good night.”

  “Don’t be like that,” I say. “She was joking. There’s no new man. Life’s too busy in general to have a relationship. You of all people know how crazy work is.”

  Why do I feel the need to fix things? To lie? To not hurt his feelings when me having a serious boyfriend might do the trick and stop him thinking we’re going to get married someday.

  “I know.” He gives a nod, but his smile doesn’t match his eyes. “I’m not giving up hope, Row. We make a good team at the office. We’d make an even better team outside of it.”

  I force a swallow over the guilt lumped in my throat. “Chad…” I sigh, wishing there was something I could say that would deter his interest without hurting his feelings.

  “It’s okay.” He takes a step back. “No need to explain.” Then he looks over my shoulder and waves to my friends. “Have a good time.”

  He walks off, and I return to my table with a stern look for Caroline. “Seriously?” I ask.

  “What? You’ve let trusty Chad down seven ways from Sunday and he’s still not getting the hint,” she says.

  “He’s such a nice guy though,” Victoria pipes in. “Kind and sweet and clearly head over heels for you.”

  My mind immediately thinks of a different man who is exactly the opposite. Calculating. Dominant. Arrogant.

  “Who knows when it comes to Chad?” Sloane asks and I roll my eyes. “I said I’d never date or fall in love with Jeremy and now we’re taking about what kind of engagement rings I like. Stranger things have happened.” Her grin is huge, and I couldn’t be happier for her.

  But this is the last conversation I want to be having so I’m grateful when Caroline says, “So…” The mischief in her eyes has me on edge. “Talking about strange things…”

  “What?” Victoria asks.

  “Do you care to tell us about the bathroom of The Local last week?” Caroline asks, her eyes on mine and her eyebrows raised right along with the taunting corners of her mouth.

  “I haven’t been to The Local in … oh,” Sloane says as she realizes Caroline is talking to me. “The bathroom, Row? Really?”

  I put my hands up and laugh. “Nothing happened in any bathroom. I swear.” I make the statement as my mind dizzies.

  “Really? Because Gregory said one minute you were arguing with some guy who bought you a drink. The next you went to the bathroom. The same bathroom that he overheard a guest complain to the server about that a man and a woman were arguing in. And a short while later, you come out, sit for a few minutes, and then say you have to leave.” She folds her arms over her chest. “The only reason I’ll accept that you bailed on Greg was because Holden fucked you good and hard in the bathroom.”

  I almost spit out my wine. I think we all do.

  “Um. Wow.” Oh Jesus. Who else did Gregory tell this to?

  “That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Caroline asks. “Oh, did I mention the guy Gregory described? He sounded a lot like someone who looked like Holden Knight.”

  Shit. “Can we not say that so loud, please?” I ask and hold my hands up. “I plead the fifth.”

  “So it’s true then?” Caroline lifts her brows.

  “We were arguing,” I confess, which gets a round of whoops from our table along with people looking our way.

  “In the bathroom,” Sloane states.

  “Yes, in the bathroom.”

  “Men’s or women’s?” Victoria asks.

  “Men’s,” I say.

  Caroline just gives me a knowing smile. “So you were in the men’s bathroom. Door locked. Arguing.”

  “Yes. It was—”

  “Arguing with your tongues, no doubt,” Victoria snorts.

  When I look at my wineglass and don’t respond, Sloane points a finger at me. “Aha. I knew it.”

  “It was—we were—” What do I even say?

  “He’s fucking hot,” Caroline says and the other two nod emphatically.

  “So…” I say.

  “So, you should act on it.” Sloane shrugs. “Well, more than I’m pretty sure you already have.”

  “Whatever you say here stays between us, you know,” Victoria says. “Like it always has.”

  I look from Sloane to Victoria to Caroline, close my eyes, and sigh. “It just kind of happened.”

  Why does it feel so good getting that off my shoulders?

  I appreciate the fact that as much as the three of them want to gloat, they bite back their grins.

  “Of course it did,” Sloane says, keeping her focus on her wineglass as she twists her lips.

  “We were arguing. He grabbed me and kissed me to shut me up. I fought against it. Wholeheartedly.”

  “Even better,” Victoria says.

  “Make sure you add that ‘wholeheartedly’ in there so we know there was absolutely zero enjoyment on your part,” Sloane says.

  “Exactly,” I deadpan.

  “Angry kissing leads to hate fucking.” Caroline mock shivers and I hold back on rolling my eyes. Clearly she and Holden should be best buds with their hate-kissing and hate-fucking thoughts. “It’s just a given, and girl, that is the best, especially with a man who looks as dark and dangerous as he does.”

  Am I lying to my best friends? Of course. But honesty isn’t something I’m ready for yet. Why? Because I haven’t wrapped my brain around this myself.

  The problem? When I’m not thinking about Holden or wanting him again, my stomach is twisted in knots. I’m confused. My head is messed up. I’m starting to feel valued by the one person who is trying to actively ruin my life. And possibly ruin it in more ways than one.

  “You do realize the man is taking my company from me.”

  Sloane shrugs. “Rowan, darling?”

  “He’s the enemy,” I assert … and yet I still want him.

  “Exactly,” Caroline says. “Ever heard the phrase ‘sleeping with the enemy’?”

  “We are not going to sleep together,” I lie and avert my eyes. If this keeps up, I’m going to need another glass of wine.

  “You want the man. He wants you. Why not?” Caroline asks.

  “It’s not that easy,” I say.

  “Actually, it is,” Victoria says.

  “Jesus, Rowan. Sleep with the man. Enjoy him,” Caroline says. “If you so happen to get a leg up on Rhett while you’re at it, so be it.”

  “So long as that leg up is because it’s up on Holden’s shoulders,” Sloane says and snorts.

  “True. So true,” Caroline continues. “The leg up on Rhett isn’t the reason you’re doing it, so it’s a moot point. Besides, Rhett wouldn’t hesitate if the shoe were on the other foot.”

  “But you have to keep it on the down-low. No more scenes in bar bathrooms,” Victoria says.

  “And just make sure you part ways amicably,” Sloane adds. “There’s nothing worse than office tension with an ex. Knowing what the other looks like naked can either be super hot or completely devastating when it comes to an office spat.”

  “Wow. Your suggestion to sleep with him just keeps sounding better and better by the second,” I say sarcastically and lift my glass of wine to our waiter, asking for another.

  “The sex’ll be worth it. I promise.”

  If they only knew how right they were …

  THIRTY-TWO

  Rowan

  The sex’ll be worth it. I promise.

  Caroline’s words are on repeat in my mind as I head up my pathway with Winnie from her evening walk.

  “Excuse me. Are you Miss Rothschild?”

  I yelp at the man’s voice walking out of the shadows on my porch. I immediately jump and start walking backward cautiously, glancing over my shoulder to see if any neighbors are out and about should I need help.

  He must realize what I’m thinking because he puts his hands up, a package in one. “I’m just delivering something. A delivery man. I’m not here to hurt you.”

  I look up and down the block. Am I being served over something I have no idea about? People don’t knock on doors at this time of night for nothing.

  “Should I be worried if I am her?” I ask.

  He laughs. “Only if you don’t want this.” He holds the package out to me. “This is for you.”

  I eye it and him cautiously. What he’s offering most definitely does not look like legal documents.

  “Oh. Thanks. I think.” I take the package and make a show of holding it up to my ear. “No ticking. I guess that’s a good sign.”

  “Bombs these days don’t tick. So I wouldn’t exactly base it on that,” he teases.

  “Gee. Thanks.” I stare at him. “Do I need to sign something saying it was delivered?”

  He smiles. “No. Not this time. It’s a personal delivery.”

  I stare at him as he nods and jogs down my front path, leaving me to look at a box about six inches by six inches in size and wrapped in blue.

  “What the hell is this, Win?” I ask her as we unlock the front door and go inside.

  Within seconds, the sound of her lapping up water accompanies the sound of me tearing the paper off the box, curiosity owning me.

  Inside the big box is a smaller box with a mini card on top. I open the card and stare at the words written there. “Time to change the dress.” The five words float vaguely through my mind, registering but not in the way that I can place where they’re from.

  But when I open the next box, a black velvet case, to find a set of stunning sapphire pendant earrings inside, the context slams into me like a battering ram.

  “And I’d opt for sapphires over rubies when it comes to you. They’re powerful. Regal. Confident.”

  “They’d clash with my dress.”

  “Then change the dress.”

  “You son of a bitch,” I murmur, then let out a chuckled sigh as I pick up one of the earrings and admire it. The sapphires are a deep blue, haloed by a row of diamonds that are small enough not to overpower the center stones. They’re feminine with the perfect balance of sharpness and softness.

  All I can do is shake my head. He can’t seriously think I’ll accept these, can he?

  I place the earring back in its case and pick up my cell. Holden picks up on the second ring. There’s a brief moment of background noise before it falls silent.

  And then Holden answers with, “You haven’t been talking to me.”

  “This is not the way to get me to talk to you.”

  “No? Because it seems to have worked.” I can hear the hint of a smile in his tone.

  “Holden, I can’t accept these.” I say the words, but my smile remains. He remembered. He thought of me. He sent me something to make a statement.

  “What do you mean by ‘these’?”

  I roll my eyes. “The sapphires.”

  “The sapphires? There were just random sapphires floating around in a box that was delivered to your house?”

  “You know what I mean. The earrings.”

  “You don’t like them?”

  Is that the slightest tinge of hurt in his voice? And why is my reaction to that sound in his voice so very different from when I hear it in Chad’s?

  “I didn’t say that. They’re stunning in every sense of the word, but I can’t accept them.”

  “There is no accepting, Rowan. They just are. I told you that the first night we met.”

  “Things were different then.”

  “No, they weren’t.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and lean against the back of my couch. “You can’t send something like this to me. I’m not a whore who needs to be paid. I’m—”

  “I know you didn’t just say that to me.”

  “What am I supposed to think? What happened, happened—”

  “You mean the sex part.”

  I sigh. “Yes, the sex part.”

  “How quickly you forget. Should I show you again—”

  “Holden. I’m trying to be serious here. Think of how this would look to someone on the outside.”

  “When are you going to understand that I don’t care about how things look to anyone? And for the record, I’ve had them for a month.”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  “Would you like to see the receipt? The date’s on there. I can screenshot it for you, if you’d like.”

  I don’t even know what to say to him. He’s making no sense. These earrings make no sense.

  “This is not the way to win a date with me.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “That’s okay because I don’t want a date with you.”

  “You did the other day.” The elevator day. The moments that live rent free in my head.

  “And now I don’t. I’m fickle like that.”

  My laugh is a chortle of disbelief. This man is … exasperating. Amusing. Unpredictable. Consuming. “Why would you buy these for someone you barely even know?” I ask.

  “Barely know?” His chuckle is a deep rumble. “I’m pretty sure I know more about you than most.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” I huff in frustration. “I mean—”

  “For the same reason I’m buying TinSpirits. Because I want to.”

  This conversation is getting nowhere. I’ll find a way to give them back to him. To return them.

  “What does your note mean? ‘Maybe it’s time to change the dress’?” I ask the question but I’m pretty sure I already know.

  “That’s for you to figure out.”

  Time to step into a new role.

  Time to agree to partner up with him.

  Time to be the woman I am to him to everyone freaking else.

  “I can’t accept these,” I repeat for what feels like the tenth time.

  “You can and you will.”

  “No, it’s not right. It feels dirty.”

  “I thought you liked dirty.”

  “You’re not playing fair.”

  “I never do, and Rowan, don’t get any ideas about how to give them back to me. If I find them in my desk somewhere, if you somehow become a mind reader and figure out where I bought them to return them, if, if, if … then I’ll give them back to you at the Monday morning managers meeting in front of everyone. That sure as shit would cause a lot of rumors to fly.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  His laugh says he’d do exactly that. “Now accept them like a good girl, Rowan, and say thank you.”

  I refuse to obey him this time. To do what he says. And as much as I should thank him, as much as the manners ingrained in me know that I should, I don’t out of principle.

  Silence smothers the line, a battle of wills waging between us.

  “Sometimes I do nice things.” Holden’s voice is low. Even. Mesmerizing. “It’s a rarity so take it for what it is. A gift. A reminder that some people look at you and see strength. Power. A force to be reckoned with. Enjoy the rest of your night.”