Not directly in front of me. Off to the side. Waiting. It took everything in my power to suppress my grin. “You didn’t tell me you’d be here,” she said. Her voice was calm. Too calm.
“I hadn’t decided if I was coming or not,” I replied, lying through my teeth. The minute Liza had told me that my girl was up for an award, IknewI would be there.
She glanced back towards her friend, who wasverydeliberately pretending to be fascinated by a centerpiece. “They’re announcing the scholarships in about an hour,” Anya said. “I feel like my heart’s in my stomach and my stomach’s in my ass.”
“Good,” I laughed. The word came out rougher than intended. “That means it’s yours. There’s not a doctor here that deserves it more than you do, Anya.”
Her eyes flicked to mine. Just for a second. “Careful,” she breathed. Her fingers pulled at my tie, adjusting it. “That almost sounded like praise.” She smoothed the fabric, fingers lingering just a beat too long on my chest.
I felt the floor tilt at the casual intimacy. I was almost certain that she could hear the rapid beat of my heart. “I’ve been careful for a week, Anya,” I said, just as quietly. “It hasn’t helped. Let me praise you.”
Silence pressed in around us, softened by music and laughter andthe illusion of distance. We were two people standing too close in a crowded room, and it felt infinitely more dangerous than my office ever had.
“I didn’t know you were avoiding me,” she said, cheeks flushed.
I laughed once under my breath. “I was trying not to ruin your life.”
Her expression softened then, just a fraction. “You’re doing a terrible job of pretending I don’t already exist in it.”
There it was. The truth. Simple. Unadorned and unforgiving. Across the room, someone called my name. A board member. An obligation. A reason to walk away. And yet… I didn’t move.
“Anya,” I said instead, lowering my voice. “If I don’t walk away right now, I won’t.”
Her breath caught. I saw it. Felt it. “Then maybe stop circlingwhateverthis is,” she said. I could already see her steeling herself for my answer. “Or admit why you are. I’m a big girl, Des.”
I looked at her — really looked — and understood with sickening clarity that the panic hadn’t been about risk. But then she turned on her heel, walking away from me. And part of me swore I would never make that mistake again.
Forty-five minutes later, and I was halfway through a conversation with a donor when I saw her turn away from Liza and drift toward the bar.
She looked relieved to be momentarily alone. I told myself I was going to get a drink. Of course it was a lie — I moved toward her.
I didn’t touch her. I wasn’t reckless enough for that. But I stepped close, close enough that I felt the heat of her through the thin space between us, close enough that the faint scent of her perfume reached me. Something clean. Something warm. Something that had no business being this intoxicating.
She stiffened, just slightly.
“There’s a staff corridor behind the east wing,” I whispered, my voice pitched low and even, the same tone I used when a room wasspiraling and I needed it to listen. “Past the restrooms. Third door on the left.”
Her breath caught. Too quiet to be dramatic, but I felt it: a tiny hitch that traveled straight through me. “I’ll be there for the next ten minutes,” I continued, eyes forward, posture immaculate to anyone watching. “If you decide you’re done being good.”
Her fingers tightened around her clutch, knuckles paled. “This is wildly inappropriate,” she murmured, still not looking at me.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Which is why I won’t follow you.” A pause. The band changed songs. Someone laughed nearby, loud and oblivious. “And why you’ll leave on your own,” I added. “If you come.”
She swallowed. I watched the motion at her throat, felt the answering pull low in my body, sharp and insistent now. “And if I don’t?” she asked.
I turned my head just enough that my mouth hovered near her ear, close enough that the words felt like a secret pressed into skin. “Then I’ll stand in that hallway,” I said, “and spend the rest of the night thinking about what I did to lose you.” I stepped back before she could answer.
The distance felt immediate. Brutal.
I adjusted my jacket. Smoothed my expression. Became, once again, the man everyone expected me to be. When I looked back at her, she was still standing there. But her gaze had drifted toward the exit. And the glass in her hand trembled, just slightly.
Chapter 20
Anya
My heart hammered against my ribs as Desmond walked away, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like he owned the damn room. Which, in a way, he did — everyone here deferred to him, the esteemed attending doctor with his silver-streaked hair and that unshakeable calm. But right now, all I could think about was how his breath had ghosted over my ear, promising things we both knew we shouldn't want.
I clutched my purse tighter, the sequins of my gown catching the chandelier light as I forced a smile for the donor I'd been chatting with. “Thank you again,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. He nodded, oblivious, and wandered off toward the bar. Good. No witnesses to the war raging inside me.
