There was a pause. The truth was hanging in the air between us, dangling over our heads. It had a taste and a smell and a pulse. I knew it before I heard it. Which was why he knew lying would be pointless.
“Yes.”
The word rang in my ears. I opened my mouth, refusing to let the tears fall. I turned around and fled. Rushed out of the penthouse. My mother followed me. She’d been waiting outside, in the hallway, eavesdropping, I suspected.
“Arya! Arya, wait!”
But I didn’t. I took two flights of stairs down before punching the elevator’s button, just to make sure they weren’t following me. In the elevator, I realized I’d stopped referring to him as Dad, even in my head. He was Conrad Roth now, the man who’d fallen from grace, dragging his family down with him.
When the elevator opened, my instinct was to cross the street and go to the cemetery. To visit Aaron. I needed to talk to someone. To unload.
But I didn’t want to talk to Aaron.
For the first time in a long time, I wanted to talk to someone who could answer back.
“Sorry, buddy.” I ran past the cemetery, then caught a yellow cab.
I checked my watch.
Maybe I could make it after all.
I spotted Christian through the restaurant’s window, sitting in one of the upholstered red booths. An entire meal sat in front of him, untouched. He was working on his laptop. He sat up straight, his face stoic, ignoring the curious glances of people around him. My heart beat a little faster. I wiped the tears I’d shed on my way here from my face and handed the driver my credit card.
“How do I look?” I asked the middle-aged woman behind the wheel.
She peered at me through the rearview mirror. “You want honesty?”
Generally yes, although now I’m not so sure.
“You look like a wreck. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“But you got good bones and a nice rack, so go knock him dead, sweetheart.”
With those powerful words of encouragement, I shot out the back door of the cab.
It was five minutes to nine, but I made it. I walked into the joint and explained to the maître d’ that my companion was waiting, then hurried through the maze of booths, an unexplainable rush of affection slamming into me when Christian looked up from his screen, boyish surprise coloring his face.
He closed his laptop, sitting back, enjoying the view. I stood in front of him, not taking a seat just yet. I was panting, my hair was a mess, and I was in desperate need of washing the day away.
“Should we be seen together like this in the open?” I wanted to get the important bits out of the way.
“No one knows us here. At any rate, if we see each other once or twice in public, no touching, no flirting, this could still be summed up to you working on the case, trying to convince me to talk my clients into settling. As long as we don’t . . . canoodle.”
“We won’t canoodle,” I said briskly.
“You okay?” he asked, no trace of sarcasm in his voice.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I barked, still on the defensive. I couldn’t exactly tell him about my conversation with my father, even though, technically, I’d come here to do just that.
“Because you’re here,” he said gently, standing up and pushing my chair back for me. I took a seat. He put his hands on my shoulders. My whole body came alive. His skin was warm through my clothes. I no longer felt like a traitor, like a harlot, for wanting to be with him. My father was a monster who deserved to be punished. Christian was right. He wasn’t to blame for Conrad Roth’s downfall.
He sat in front of me, his glacial blue eyes twinkling with what I could swear was sheer happiness. He looked surprised, even a little giddy. “What made you change your mind?”
“Is it important?” I huffed, feeling my eyes prickling with tears again.
“Yes.” He reached to fill my glass with wine. It did look like the expensive stuff. I better not sleep with this man. “To me, it is.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not going to sleep with me as long as you think I’m wronging your father. So I want to know if the penny has dropped yet.”
His words brought me back to earth. Of course Christian was only interested in me as a conquest. A shiny prize. A bonus for winning this trial, something that could be taken away from my father. I slapped my napkin open and ironed it across my lap, then grabbed a fork and twirled it over pasta. I was so hyperaware of his eyes on me, so overcome with emotions, I hadn’t even touched the food on the table.
“I’m here because I needed a breather and a good meal. Nothing more.” My voice was steady, but I couldn’t look him in the eye.