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“That is not a it’s a nice restaurant dress. It’s an I want to torment a man dress, and you know it.” She looks a little guilty and I wrap an arm around her waist squeezing her gently. “I like it. I welcome the torment. You look…stunning.” I want to run down a list of synonyms because one word doesn’t seem like enough to describe her.
Inside, I’ve barely uttered my last name to the hostess before we are being escorted back to our room. The restaurant is massive with tiny lights hanging from the ceiling and the sounds of live jazz bouncing off the walls. We walk down a long dark hallway with only candlelit lanterns lining the walls, my hand resting against Marissa’s back as I follow her. We pass three doors before the hostess pushes one of them open and gives us a smile. “Mr. Holt, Miss Collins, here is your private room. Someone will be with you shortly. I’m Anna, please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you while you’re dining with us,” she says with a polite smile as she ushers us inside.
I hear a tiny gasp next to me and I take that to mean Marissa likes the room. I asked for this one specifically because it is the biggest and has the best view. The room has only one table at its center; a rich mahogany one, clearly meant for ten to twelve people. The carpet is the color of rich burgundy with traces of gold illuminated by the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There’s one entire wall of windows and one is open letting the September air move into the space. It is still on the warmer side of the month where the nights are comfortable until closer to midnight when the air finally ticks below seventy degrees.
I am pleased that the restaurant followed my instructions as I note the three dozen red roses in crystal vases placed on the table and the small card in front of them with Marissa’s name on it. She picks it up as I move towards the small bar cart in the corner to pop the bottle of champagne that’s chilling in a bucket of ice.
“Thank you for dinner. This is already the best night I’ve had in months,” she reads aloud what I had them write on the card. “These are beautiful,” she says just as I pop the cork and begin pouring both of us a glass of champagne. I move towards her and hold one out for her.
“Believe me when I say this, they do not hold a candle to you.”
She takes one of the flutes before sipping the champagne. “You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh? I thought you said you were going to be a perfect gentleman.” She raises an eyebrow at me and purses her lips.
My dick throbs. I resist the urge to groan at the fact that now even her sassy attitude is a turn-on.“I am.”
“No, you’re being romantic.” Her eyes dart around the massive room. “A private room with roses and champagne?”
“All seem like gentlemanly behaviors.” I reach for one of her hands and spin her around slowly. “Besides, you’re wearing a dress that calls to my very ungentlemanly side.”
She slides her hand out of mine and gives me a mild scolding look. “You promised.”
“But you wore this to tempt me.” I let my eyes rove slowly down her body and then back up even slower, in a way that there is zero mistake as to what I’m thinking. She doesn’t say anything, so I take a step closer to her and I’m pleased when she doesn’t retreat. “You want to know what I think?” I’m standing as close as I can without touching her. “I think you want me to break. You want me to push us towards something you can’t admit you want.” She swallows nervously and I’m pretty sure she’s not breathing. “Breathe,” I whisper and she shakes her head like she doesn’t trust herself to inhale or exhale while standing this close to me. I look down and from where I’m standing, I get the best view of the tops of her breasts.
I finally take a step back allowing her to take a breath.
“This hardly seems fair.”
“Did you think I was going to be?” I raise an eyebrow at her and a scowl crosses her gorgeous face before she sits down at the table and I take a seat diagonal from her. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“Everything, huh? Can you be more specific?” I take a long sip of my champagne, already wishing I had something stronger for this conversation.
She looks away from me for a moment and closes her eyes before taking a deep breath and turning back to me. “Why doesn’t she care that you sleep with other women?” I don’t say anything and the silence must be unnerving to her because she continues. “I would care. I couldn’t…be with someone who I had to share with other people. Explain to me how she can?”
“She doesn’t love me.” I shrug simply because it took quite a long time and more time than I care to admit with my therapist to come to that conclusion.
“I don’t believe that. Who wouldn’t love you?” Her mouth drops open. “I mean, if they knew you well enough to marry you.” I don’t even stop the smile from crossing my lips at her slip. “Ugh,” she scoffs though I see a hint of a smile pulling at her lips. “Don’t be annoying.”
“Right.” I smile, knowing that I’ll be riding the high of her essentially calling me lovable for weeks. “She loves the money.”
She’d been leaning forward but now she sits back, resting against the back of the chair like she wasn’t expecting my answer. “Oh.”
“I met her…before Beckham Securities was even a thing.” I stare off into space. “When Wes and I were just two kids with a dream.” I chuckle before turning to look at her. “There isn’t a prenuptial agreement.”
“I see,” she whispers.
“One night after a particularly bad argument, I stormed out and went to a bar and slept with a woman. I felt so guilty, I confessed and she basically told me she wasn’t going to leave me and if she ever did, she was taking half of everything.” My lips form a straight line. “That was three years, and in the spirit of being transparent, several hundred million dollars ago.”
“So, you’re just going to stay with her forever?”
I sigh at the question that Beck has asked me several times and my mother has asked me even more. I have two older sisters, both of whom are married with kids, but my mother wants more grandchildren and she knows I won’t be having any with Holly at this point. I stand up and walk towards the window pushing my hands into my pockets. “I think that was the plan.” I turn around and I see her looking at me like a child who just learned that Santa Claus isn’t real. Like the idea of living in a loveless marriage for the rest of my life is unfathomable and the saddest thing she’s ever heard.
“Forever?”
“I was waiting to hit a breaking point I guess.”
“Wow.”
