Home > Final Call (Call #2)(30)

Final Call (Call #2)(30)
Author: Emma Hart

“You want to prove yourself.” He brings the cake-laden fork to my mouth, and I open my mouth.

I nod and swallow the cake. “For me.”

“I understand that.” He takes a bite himself. “But for the record, Day, you’re not f**king the boss. You’re in a serious relationship with him. There’s a very big difference, sweetheart.”

“The level of our relationship depends on your ability to prove yourself to me.” I swallow the bitterness of my own secret down, my whole body screaming at my hypocrisy. “There’s a long way to go, baby.”

He puts another forkful of cake in my mouth and follows it up by covering my lips with his. I pull back, swallow my mouthful, and tilt my face back for his kiss. His lips are sweet and woody at the same time, the chocolate fudge sauce mingling with the whisky in a strangely alluring and delicious mix.

“Can I show you something?”

“We’ve been here before.”

He smiles. The waiter appears and Aaron hands him his card without glancing at the bill. I choose not to look at the slip of paper on the table. I’d probably have a heart attack.

“Trust me,” he whispers, pulling me to standing and wrapping my cardigan around my shoulders.

“Honestly?” I look up at him. “That’s what I’m a little afraid of.”

His eyes flash with another indiscernible emotion. He swallows, taking his card from the waiter with a nod, and then he leads me outside. A sleek black car pulls up and Aaron opens the door, guiding me in.

“To Soho.” His words are short and sharp, and I can hear the underlying pain in them. My stomach twists.

How can I do this to him when I’m no better? Fuck. Guilt riddles my body, and this is by far the most f**ked-up situation I’ve been in for a long time.

I open my mouth but no words come out. Not even a squeak.

We travel in silence. The twenty-minute journey across London is coated in tension and regret and a tinge of heartbreak sneaking its way through.

What am I doing?

Aaron doesn’t look at me when the car stops and he helps me out. He links his fingers through mine and leads me through several streets. The heavy air is still hanging between us, but when we stop, his words slice through it.

“You want to prove yourself?”

I nod slightly, narrowing my eyes.

“Walk around that corner, look at the billboard, and tell me you don’t see a woman who has proven herself.”

“What?”

He motions to the corner. I look between him and the street uncertainly. People mill around us, completely unaware of the turmoil surrounding us and seeping in.

I swallow hard and take the few steps around the corner. We’re the first thing I see. My hand on his waist. His at my jaw. My head tilted back. My lips parted. His eyes boring into mine. The gorgeous Australian background.

Aaron rests his hands on my waist. “I see a woman who’s already proven herself. I see a woman so worried about what the rest of the world thinks that she’s afraid to take the step her heart really wants to. I see a woman held back by an irrational fear she doesn’t know she possesses. But most of all, I see a beautiful woman standing in front of and in the arms of the man who would burn bridges and build cities if that’s what it took to make her happy.”

I blink several times as the tears build in my eyes. Aaron spins me in his arms and cups my cheek with his palm, brushing his thumb across my temple.

“I own a multimillion-dollar company, Dayton, but I’m not rich. I could buy anything I wanted without blinking, without seeing the dent in any one of my bank accounts. I could buy another company if I wanted. Another car. Another plane. A whole estate of houses. I could buy an island if I truly desired, but I’m not rich. The one thing that would make me rich, I can’t buy. Unless I have your love, given freely and wholeheartedly, I’m just as poor as the man you see on the corner of the street. All I can do is buy the time to convince you that I’m worth it. That we’re worth it. I can use that time to make you believe in us. To trust in us.” He brings his forehead to mine. “And I truly won’t stop until you do. I won’t stop fighting until you’re standing in front of me and telling me you love me with everything you are and you give that to me.”

He takes my mouth in a raw and heartfelt kiss I feel right down to my toes. They curl in my shoes, and the tears sneak from my eyes and down my cheeks.

Aaron pulls back and wipes them from my face. “Every time I kiss you, I taste the rest of my life. I won’t stop fighting for you until you taste yours, too.”

I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face into his chest. He envelopes me in his arms, holding me against him in a desperate way. He lets out a long, shuddery breath that snakes across my neck and leaves goose bumps in its wake.

I taste it, I want to say. I’ve tasted it since the moment he first kissed me. Every brush, every tease, every deep, probing kiss and sweep of his tongue through my mouth has been filled with the taste of forever. I feel it in his touch and see it in his eyes.

In the same way I wish he could tell me that he loves me, I wish I could tell him everything.

Chapter Thirteen

“Dayton? Are you ready to go?” Tyler’s voice echoes through the house, and I grab my coffee mug.

“Hold on.” I down the rest of the mug in one gulp and leave it on the counter. I’ll clean it up later. I grab my purse from the table and meet him in the hallway. “Ready.”

“Come on. I’m already late.”

“Hot date last night?”

“More like animalistic. She was a dream.” Tyler leads to me an Audi R8 and presses a button on the keys. “In you get.”

“This is your car?”

“Nah. I stopped by the dealership this morning and stole it.” He opens his door and stares at me. My lips twitch up on one corner, and I get in the passenger’s side.

“It’s gorgeous.”

“It gets me laid.”

“I have no doubt.”

I sit almost stiffly. I’ve never been in a car so expensive or…pretty.

“She won’t blow up if you sit back or actually touch the seat, you know.” Tyler smirks. “I guess you haven’t seen Aaron’s baby.”

“I didn’t even know he had a car in his possession. He’s driven everywhere.”

He laughs. “That’s because my cousin is a particular bastard who won’t let anyone touch his Ferrari. I could count on one hand the amount of times he’s driven that.”

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