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I don’t know what to make of the tension that’s suddenly descended on the conversation. I can see Jared’s pensiveness, his silent frustration. In Nick, I see the same, but there is anger there too. I see the wall go up around him. Jared seems to recognize it too.
Nick looks at me, his expression shuttered, impenetrable. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
“Okay, sure.” I nod, unsettled by his darkening mood. I’m also well aware that I have my own reasons for leaving—namely Kimmie. Somewhere in the ballroom, she’s floating around, no doubt waiting for another chance to pounce.
Nick turns to Jared and holds out his hand. “Give Kathryn my regrets.”
“You’re an asshole. You know that, right?” There is no anger in Jared’s voice as he shakes Nick’s hand, only sadness. “How long are you going to shut her out, man?”
Nick doesn’t answer, merely tips his head in a nod and mutters, “Goodnight, Jared.”
Chapter 23
Nick doesn’t take me out the front of the hotel. Instead, he guides me down a luxurious mirrored corridor, texting Patrick along the way.
I hurry alongside him, past soaring marble columns and massive floor urns filled with luscious greenery on either side of us. Nick’s pace is clipped, and I struggle to keep up in my delicate high heels.
Although he projects an air of cool, collected purpose to anyone looking at him now, I know him too well to be fooled by his outward demeanor. He’s brooding, practically vibrating with agitation. He hadn’t been overly enthused about attending the gala to begin with, but after running into Jared, he’s all but dragging me out of the place.
“This way,” he says, catching my hand in his.
We turn down another glittering passageway, one that carries us farther away from the hubbub of the party. Up ahead is a discreet side door for the hotel. Through the brass-trimmed glass, I see a glossy black limousine roll to a stop just outside.
Patrick gets out and meets us on the other side of the car as we exit the hotel. He opens the back door and Nick gestures for me to slide in ahead of him.
“Back to the apartment, sir?” Patrick asks.
“No. Just drive,” Nick tells him. “I’ll let you know when I want to stop.”
He gets in and as Patrick shuts the door behind him, Nick presses a button on his armrest and the privacy panel closes. The opaque glass descends silently, sealing us in together in the backseat of the long sedan.
“Would you like something to drink?”
He’s already reaching for a cut-crystal tumbler on the center console between the two rear-facing seats in front of us. When I shake my head, he lifts a decanter of dark amber whisky and pours a two-finger measure into his glass.
“Do you want to tell me what that was about back there?” I ask hesitantly.
“No.”
Without looking at me, he throws back the liquor in one swallow. A curse erupts out of him as he sets the tumbler down on the console. When he sits back against the leather squabs of the bench seat we share, his gaze is turbulent, haunted.
The car pulls away, easing out into the evening traffic. For a long while, the only sound is that of the soft jazz coming from the limo’s sound system and the heavy drum of my own heartbeat.
“I’m sorry,” Nick murmurs. He reaches over to me, idly stroking my thigh. The hem of my dress has risen well above my knees from sliding into the limousine, and Nick’s thumb traces a slow, sensual pattern along my bare skin. Yet despite his tender touch, his gaze is hard on me, his tone edged with ice. “You looked like you were having a good time talking with Jared before I came over. I didn’t mean to cut your night short. If you would rather have stayed—”
“I don’t care about the party.” I’m pissed that he would even suggest it. I place my hand on his, squeezing my fingers around his larger ones. “As for Jared Rush, he’s interesting, but I don’t care about him either.”
Nick grunts. “You’d flay his ego if he heard you say that. I don’t think he’s ever met a woman who’s immune to his charms.”
“Yeah, I kind of gathered that when I met him at the gallery last week.”
“Last week?” When I nod, his eyes flare darkly. “You never mentioned that to me.”
“I just did.”
Nick studies me intently now. “Jared Rush loves beautiful women. I’m sure I don’t have to guess whether he made a pass at you.”
“He didn’t. Not really.” I shrug. “He was nice. Friendly.”
