The Rivals

We had a good laugh, and then Sophia swept all the papers on the table into a neat pile. I thought we were going back to business.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

I nodded, and again, she chewed on that bottom lip.

“How did you know Liam had never tied me up?”

“The way you reacted when I asked your permission to use my belt. You wanted me to, but you weren’t comfortable admitting that. If it hadn’t been your first time, you would have reacted differently.”

She nodded, but went quiet again. Eventually, she said, “But how did you know I wanted you to?”

Man, that Liam really was a dipshit. Didn’t the fucker ever read what she wanted and try to satisfy her? I couldn’t believe she had to ask me that question. Though I didn’t want to make her feel foolish, so I did my best to answer without any hint of judgment in my voice.

“It’s just something I sensed from you.”

She shook her head. “How? Do I appear weak or something?”

“Just the opposite. You seem very much in control, which is why I thought it might work for you to let go a little. What you like in the bedroom in no way reflects who you are as a businessperson.”

Sophia was quiet again. “Is this your thing? You’re a dominant or something?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s not my thing.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I leaned close and wound a lock of her hair around my finger until she looked up at me. Then I smiled and gave it a good, firm yank. “But it appears to be our thing.”

Chapter 11

* * *

Sophia

I wasn’t sure what bugged me more—the fact that in three short, intimate encounters, Weston had figured out something Liam had no clue about after more than eighteen months together, or that he’d figured out something even I wasn’t aware of. But either way, he was right. While I wanted to argue about business with Weston, and challenge him on everything, what I seemed to like in the bedroom was how he took charge. Sex with Weston was light years better than what things had been like between Liam and me. I’d chalked it up to the spark that came with our arguing, but there was more to it than that, and the revelation pretty much freaked me out.

So for the next twenty-four hours, I did my best to avoid Weston. And I was successful, too. Until I came out of the office supply store a few blocks away from the hotel at close to eight o’clock at night, and I happened to see Weston up ahead on the opposite side of the street. Since he was walking the direction I had to go, I kept him in my line of sight for the next two blocks. I figured he was on his way back to the hotel, like I was, but when he turned right instead of left at the next corner, I realized that wasn’t the case.

Standing at an intersection, I looked left and could see The Countess one block over. To my right, I watched Weston continue to walk. Conflicted, my head swung back and forth a few times before I finally sighed and decided a little extra walk tonight would do me some good.

I let more distance gap between us as I followed him from the opposite side of the street. Whereas before we’d both been heading toward the hotel, and if I got caught behind him, I had a legitimate excuse, now I was just a plain old stalker. I tailed him for a solid ten minutes, turning left and right with no idea where the hell we were going. Eventually, he turned in to an office building. I caught up and watched from across the street as he walked through the glass doors and headed straight for the elevator. With the show over, I probably should’ve turned around and weaved my way back to The Countess. But curiosity got the best of me.

Looking both ways, I jay-walked across the busy street toward the building. My heart sped up as I made my way to the glass doors. Weston had disappeared into the elevator, and I had no idea what the hell I was looking for. Yet for some stupid reason, I was willing to get caught to see if I could figure out where he was going.

In the lobby, I studied the building directory. It read like a typical Manhattan skyscraper, with dozens of doctors, lawyers, and corporate offices. Weston hadn’t stopped to check the directory, so he’d clearly been here before, or at least knew where he was going. Disappointed—though I had no idea why I’d followed him to begin with—I turned to leave. The last thing I wanted was to get caught when my snooping hadn’t even produced any good information. As I returned to the front door of the building, my cell buzzed. So I dug it out of my purse while I kept walking.