Page 89 of Carnal Wagers

Maybe we could try a more conventional rendezvous next?

We still need to go over business.

I hope the bar issues are not severe.

None were answered. None were read, but each one was marked as received. Obviously, he was busy. He wasn’t avoiding me. He wasn’t ghosting me. He was just…occupied. That was all it was.

“That was delicious. Thank you. I’ll clean this…” I picked up my empty plate, but he stole it out of my hands just as quickly.

“I got it.”

“Yes, okay. Well, I’ll get going, then.” I shouldered my purse and waved awkwardly at him. “Thank you again.”

He clicked his tongue and tipped an invisible hat my way. “No problem.”

The moment the door separating the penthouse and the private foyer clicked shut behind me, I slumped against the nearest wall and shook out my hands. That had been a level of discomfort I hadn’t felt since my father caught my boyfriend climbing out of my window at nineteen. So much for being a thirty-year-old woman comfortable in her own skin.

I checked my phone again. No new messages, and mine to Cillian were still unread. I stood there, staring at the bar of numbers above the elevator. My hands felt unnaturally heavy, and I scratched my nails across my palms. I was overthinking this. I had to be.

The bolt to the door of Cillian’s penthouse snicked locked.

“It’s done. Aye, she left. Don’t you worry, deartháir. I got you. You sure you want—” Liam’s voice moved away.

My jaw slackened, and my breath skipped. Stupidly, my eyes watered. I was an idiot. I had done everything to get his attention, just like I’d always done with my family, and it amounted to nothing. When was I going to learn my lesson?

Last night, he looked at me and listened to me like I mattered. Under his dark, menacing blue eyes, I really thought that he saw me for me. I thought he cared and in turn gave him a piece of myself. I let myself be vulnerable and opened up to him because, in the heat of the moment, it wasn’t a game to me anymore. When he held me like I was precious, the divorce papers no longer mattered. Only the fantasy of us did.

But that was all it was. A fantasy. He proved that by taking my bits and pieces and tossing them out like trash.

I scuffed my kitten heels along the marble tiles and groaned. Why? Why did I keep hoping there was something there after seven years when there obviously wasn’t?

Seven. Goddamn. Years.

What the hell had I been thinking? There would never be anything between us. It was more than time to accept that, do what needed to be done, and move the fuck on.

I shook out my limbs and trilled my lips.

Get yourself together, Alizé. Insecurity is not your thing.

Vases of flowers crowded the twin mirrors on either side of the blindingly bright oval foyer leading to the elevator. I pushed one aside and primped up my look. A touch-up of concealer and foundation. Some lip gloss. A little hair brushing and mussing up for volume. My outfit wasn’t particularly vogue, but I kind of liked the knotted style around the waist. It gave off a debonair-chic air that suited my hair and makeup.

My phone dinged.

I glanced at it and growled beneath my breath. Just what I needed, a work emergency. I was going to need to fly to New York before the day was up.

Alizé

You available?

Maeve

For you, always.

Pick me up?

I don’t like the sound of that.

Where are you?