But before I can say anything, the room service attendant—a young guy with dark hair and a friendly smile—leans around the doorframe. “Sir, I forgot the—” He stops. His eyes land on me, on the robe that I thankfully closed, and on my bare legs. His smile starts to falter before a full-on smile overtakes his face.
I don’t know what’s happening when Caldwell moves so fast I barely see it. He’s across the room in an instant, putting his body between me and the door, blocking the man’s view.
“Get out,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. I even take a step back.
“I was only?—”
“Now.” Caldwell’s hand is on the door, his shoulders tense, his whole body radiating fury, which I didn’t think was possible. “And if you look at her again, I’ll have you fired.” Caldwell leans in, whispering something into his ear.
The attendant’s eyes widen. He stammers something and quickly disappears. Caldwell slams the door and turns to me, his expression still dark.
“Did he see you?” he demands. I stare at him, confused by the intensity of his reaction.
“He just saw me in a robe. It’s not?—”
“Then yes, he saw you.” Caldwell crosses the room, lifting me off my feet again, putting me back on the table. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me open again despite my attempt to close the robe. “He saw this. And he wanted it.”
“He didn’t?—”
“He did.” Caldwell kisses me hard, possessive, his teeth grazing my lower lip. “I saw the way he looked at you. Like he wanted to take you from me.”
I’m reeling here. The text from Cordelia. His jealousy over a stranger. The intensity in his eyes that should scare me but instead makes me want to surrender. I don’t understand how he can look at me, and I cut my own thought off.
“Caldwell,” I whisper. “Who’s Cordelia?”
He goes still. His hands tighten on my thighs.
“She’s...” His eyes meet mine. “She’s no one.” No one? Is that what he thinks of a girl when he’s done with them? That he found me in the airport and decided to hop beds.
“She’s your date for the wedding.” My voice is small, and I hate that. I want to be confident and unbothered. “I saw the text.”
I see panic there.Realpanic. “Mable, it’s not what you think. She’s—my mother arranged it. I never?—”
“You’re going to the wedding with her.” I push at his chest, but he doesn’t move. He flipped when a random man saw my legs; that wasn’t even my fault, but he’s got a whole freaking date! “While I’m here, in your room, in your bed?—”
“Stop.” He catches my wrists, his grip firm but gentle. “Look at me.”
I do, and I hate that there are tears in my eyes. I hate that I care this much. We just met. This is just a fling. I have no right to feel betrayed.
But I do.
“Cordelia is nothing,” he says, his voice rough. “A family obligation. A name on a list. You are—” He breaks off, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You are everything. You are the only one I want.”
“Then why didn’t you invite me?” The question tears out of me before I can stop it. “Why are you going with her instead of me? What’s so wrong with me?” They’re rhetorical questions. I know the answers; I’ve been told before: I’m boring and cold.
He goes silent. His jaw tightens like he’s waging a war inside of himself.
“Because I was trying to protect you,” he finally says. “The wedding. It will be a nightmare. There will be cameras. Press. People who will tear you apart just for standing next to me. I couldn’t let them hurt you.”
I stare at him. “Well, you have fun with that. I’ll be out of here soon.” I push hard, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are only growing more intense.
“I was trying to?—”
“Protect me?” I pull my wrists free, wrapping the robe tight around myself. “Or protect yourself?”
He flinches like I’ve struck him. And in the silence that follows, I know I’ve hit something true.
I slide off the table, my legs unsteady. I have to reach out and brace myself with my hand. “I need to get dressed.”
