“Yes.” I run my fingers through my hair, every one of my muscles tightening with the prospect of coming face to face with my wife.
“You have to go, Aaron. Even if just for an hour. I take it Dayton isn’t yet aware of Naomi?”
My jaw tightens, and I ignore his question. “Yes, we’ll be there.”
“Aaron, you must tell her.”
“Okay. Bye.” I hang up and let the phone fall from my fingers. It falls to the floor with a dense thud reminiscent of the way my heart dropped at the mention of my ex’s name.
I fall onto the sofa and rest my arm across my eyes, sighing heavily. Fuck. This very situation is what I was trying to protect Day from.
“That doesn’t sound like a great way to start your day.” Her voice softly travels across the room, cutting through my thoughts.
“It’s not!”
My voice is sharper than I meant, much sharper than she deserves. I can’t help it. I know Naomi is hosting dinner tonight to spite me and prove some f**ked-up point.
I lean my head back on the sofa and look at Dayton. She’s hunched over the counter, a mug under the coffee machine. Defeat radiates from her the same way surprise does. I know I’ve never spoken to her that way.
She didn’t deserve that.
I push off from the sofa and wrap my arms around her dainty waist. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”
“Damn right you shouldn’t have.” She pours a cup of coffee, her chest jolting with a sharp breath. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? If not, I’m going to shower.”
I laugh quietly, trying to relieve some tension. Damn, she knows me so well. Too well, sometimes, I muse. “Someone I’m not particularly fond of heard we’re in Paris this week. They’ve taken the liberty of organizing a company dinner here at the hotel tonight, and my father just informed me that we’re expected to attend. Required to, actually.”
“What if we had plans?” She steps from my loose hold and raises her eyebrows.
“We did.” I lean against the counter with a heavy sigh. “Now we have new ones. Believe me. I’m not happy about it, Day.”
“Can’t you just explain you’re not working this week? That this is a vacation?”
“No.”
“Well, who is it?”
“Who?”
She clicks her tongue, an impatient, echoing sound. “The person organizing it.”
“Oh. No one important. I’m not sure they’ll even be there.” I pour a cup of coffee, turning away so she won’t see the alarm I know is in my eyes. Everything is going wrong. Just when it was so right, it’s going wrong.
“Aaron,” she pushes, her voice taking a hard tone I’m unused to.
“Leave it, Dayton.” My words are equally as hard, and I hear the chink as her mug hits the marble kitchen counter I glance from the corner of my eye and watch her as she storms into the bedroom, her hips swinging tantalizingly as she does.
Fucking hell. She really shouldn’t walk away from me when she’s mad.
Ignoring the way my c**k is hardening at the shake of her ass, I turn my thoughts back to the matter at hand. Can I convince Dayton that this is something I have to attend alone?
Unrealistic. She’s not stupid. If I say that, she’ll look right through me and laugh. I hired her to accompany me to shit like this. I can’t exactly stop her doing so right now. No matter how inconvenient this is for me.
I have to try and cancel this, try and make it go away—my usual panic strategy. Surely my father can call the hotel and arrange some bullshit function to stop her dinner. His name has a lot more pull than hers does.
Dayton emerges from the bedroom, clad in figure-hugging workout gear. I fight the urge to run my eyes over her body and find her gaze, cold and seething.
“Look,” I sigh, “I have a couple of calls to make now. Maybe you should go out for a couple of hours.”
She grasps the door handle, her eyes never leaving mine. “I was planning to stay out all day. Don’t worry.”
“Day…”
She opens the door with an anger that belies her calm speech. “What time do you need me back here?”
“Four.”
“Perfect. Don’t bother calling me unless you’ve pulled your head from your ass and calmed the f**k down.”
The door slams loudly behind her, shaking slightly, and I stare at it for a long moment. Fucking hell—this situation just went from bad to worse. Not only is my ex-wife, my dirty skeleton in my closet, stirring shit from her pathetic little rented Parisian apartment, my girlfriend, who knows nothing of her, is raging mad at me.
I take the coffee, retrieve my phone from the floor, and dial my father’s number again.
Time for damage-control mode.
***
“Fucking hell!” I smack my hand against my forehead in defeat. I’ve spent nearly the last seven hours attempting to worm my way out of this ridiculous dinner—to no avail.
We have to go. That’s the end of the story.
I have to tell Dayton the very thing I was keeping from her for her safety, and I have to do it soon. Before we get down there and she finds out from someone else. This isn’t something anyone else has any right to tell her.
It’s my secret and mine to tell.
Something I should have admitted long ago instead of paying her agent not to tell her.
I never thought my feelings toward this fiery brunette would be so strong after so long. I’ll be the first to admit that she’s always held my heart. Dayton Black has always been the one controlling the strings where my emotions are controlled, but I never realized that her control was so complete.
I had no idea she owned me so f**king entirely. I’m basically a pu**y when it comes to admitting something so real.
Because, f**k, I wanted to tell her. I wanted to blurt it out every time she walked in a room or turned those gorgeous coffee-colored eyes on me. I wanted to rip my chest in two and bare my soul to her for her to do as she wished.
I still do.
But I know now that it won’t be pretty.
Nothing good will come of our next conversation. Nothing will be salvaged.
I hope for a different outcome. Optimistically and perhaps naïvely, I hope.
She walks into the suite, the door clicking quietly behind her, and I find her stunning profile. She pauses but ignores me, turning toward the bedroom instead of speaking to me. Taking the easy way out.
I know all about taking the easy way out.