"Is that a compliment?"
"An observation." His eyes stay fixed on me. "I am sorry, about your brother. If I lost Danny… I'd be a fucking mess. Way worse than you."
"Your family isn't great with compliments."
"No. We're not." He chuckles. "And I do like you, Adam. You're quiet, but in a strong, supportive way. That's what Danny needs. Someone who supports her."
"I want that too."
"Our dad isn't in the picture. Our mom is gone. So it's just me, protecting her. And I will protect her. I know you're rich enough to crush me. Pay to have me killed. Whatever. I don't care. Danny is all I have. And she… she's given up a lot for me," he says. "If you hurt her, I'll destroy you."
"I appreciate that," I say.
He looks at me, waiting for me to get angry, challenge him.
But why would I?
How could I possibly object to her brother doing anything to protect her?
I'm exactly the same.
After another round of banter, Danielle and Remy say goodbye. They trade whispers and laughs, then she releases him and returns to me.
She lingers there for a moment, watching her brother leave, in a state of limbo.
We're not alone yet.
We're still pretending.
But where is the fucking line?
I don't see it anymore.
Does she?
Her fingers intertwine with mine. She squeezes my hand, still nervous, but for some other reason altogether.
"Thanks for setting that up," she says. "He liked you."
"I liked him."
"Really?" Her eyes light up. "He's a good guy despite the obsession with dick, I swear."
A laugh spills from my lips. "He's teasing you because you react."
"I know. But I can't help it. He knows exactly how to push my buttons."
"You're sweet with him. Protective."
She blushes.
"I'm glad you have someone who loves you."
She looks at me funny for a moment, then she nods. "He's a good brother."
He is.
I believe his warning. I believe he'll protect her, even if it takes everything he has.
How would he react, if he knew the truth?
Would he appreciate the financial assistance? Or deck me for asking her to lie?
I deserve both.
I deserve worse.
But I…
I have too far to go. I can't quit now.
I put the thought out of mind as I lead Danielle to the penthouse. We walk in silence, absorbing the cold, bright day. The financial district is empty on the weekends, but it still hums with noise. A million times louder than the mansion.
I used to appreciate the buzz of the city. The life, the sounds, the lights.
Now—
It's too much.
There's too much in my head.
I need to be in control of something.
No, not something.
Danielle.
She moves closer as we enter the building. The shiny silver elevator. The hallway.
The apartment.
The door swings shut behind her.
I take her coat. Hang it on the rack. Do the same with mine.
She looks around the room the way she does when she's setting up a photo shoot, as if she's finding the perfect spot to place her camera.
She runs her fingers over the leather couch. The oak dining table. The tile counter in the kitchen.
The big, glass window where she fucked herself last night.
Was that only a day ago?
A single day and everything is different.
I don't understand it.
I don't understand anything but my desire to make her come.
Danielle closes the distance between us. She slips her arm around my waist. Under my suit jacket. "Please." Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt. "Fuck me. Wherever you want. However you want. I don't care as long as you fuck me."
Words form on my tongue. Disappear before I can articulate them. There's too much going on, too much we need to discuss. Her brother. Her living arrangements. When and where we're announcing our engagement.
It's as overwhelming as this sleek, modern apartment and the memories in it.
This makes sense.
It's the only thing that makes sense.
"Please, Adam." It falls off her lips like poetry.
It disarms me.
Yes.
Whatever she wants, as long as she says my name like that again.
"Go to the couch," I say.
She does.
"Hands on the arm."
She places her hands on the leather. Looks to me for instructions.
"Wait."
"For what?"
"Until I decide you've waited long enough."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Danielle
Wait. Until I decide you've waited long enough.
Adam's voice echoes through my ears as I press my palms into the soft leather.
He stands there, against the clean white wall, tall and broad and patient.
Has it been thirty seconds or a thousand years?
I'm not sure.
I only know I need him to touch me.
Fuck me.
Groan my name.
I want everything. My hands on his skin. His secrets in my ears. His hard, strong body on display for me.
Will he show me one day?
Or will he hide behind suits and blindfolds forever?
I understand the impulse—almost all the dresses I selected have long sleeves—but that understanding does nothing to lessen my desire to touch him.
Adam takes a step toward me.
Another.
Another.
His hands find my hips. He rolls my dress up my waist. Runs his fingers over the waistband of my silk underwear.