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It was real. It wasn’t just sex.
Cash pulls his lips away and meets my eyes. “God, I’ve missed you. What the hell happened? Where did you go?”
I bite my lip, tasting him on me. “Can we sit?”
“Of course, baby, come over here.” He points to the two chairs in front of his desk, and he takes one and turns it toward mine. I fold my dress down as I sit and leave my hands below my hips, afraid for him to see my left ring finger.
God, could this be any more awkward?
Cash is the man I need to set up with a wife so that I can get my promotion and free myself from my husband. How is this possible?
Cash pulls my chair closer until his legs are on either side of me and then squeezes my thighs in excitement. “I cannot believe you’re here. This is incredible. I thought I’d lost you.”
I look away from his expectant gaze. My chest grows tight, and it feels difficult to breathe.
“Relax, Grace.” He squeezes me again and pulls my attention back to his face. He’s so achingly perfect. How am I going to watch him fall in love with someone else? How am I going to break his heart and mine in this moment?
Please, Grace, you spent one weekend together. He’s not going to be heartbroken. Pissed, yes. But he didn’t fall in love with you. Get over yourself.
I steady my voice as I say, “I’m not Grace.” His eyebrow quirks up, and he stiffens. “I’m Mrs. Kensington, your ten o’clock.”
I blow out a breath and place my hands in my lap. His eyes move straight to my left hand, and I watch as he studies my rings. A frown tugs at his lips. Lips I know taste like whiskey and desire. That feel like sin and saving grace when pressed against my own. That know precisely how to nip, nibble, and suck with the right amount of pressure to make my toes curl in my Manolo Blahniks right now.
This man is everything I want and nothing I can have.
His jaw tics and he leans back in his chair, pushing it away from me. “You’re married?” he asks as his eyebrows knit together in disbelief.
I nod once, afraid my voice will crack if I speak. A tremor dances across my skin, the chill from the icy stare he delivers reaching my bones.
“Fuck!” he roars. “Fucking fuck!”
I flinch at his anger but don’t avert my eyes. I deserve this. I didn’t tell him the truth before and now I have to deal with the consequences.
Cash stands and paces the room. “You’re married! You’re fucking married!”
I shrink a little in my chair. I’m not fearful of him, and his anger is completely justified, but seeing the hurt I’ve caused is almost too much to bear.
I want to whisper the truth. I want to tell him everything. But Marion’s words dance before me.
Find him a wife and the firm is yours.
I’ve picked my career over my love life ten times out of ten for the last ten years. Why stop now?
“I’m a matchmaker. Your grandmother has hired my firm to find you a wife. I’m your ten o’clock,” I say again, staring down at my shoes.
He laughs bitterly. “This doesn’t make sense.” Then in desperation he gets in front of me and pulls my face to look at him. “Grace, baby, this doesn’t make sense. What is going on? Tell me this is all a misunderstanding. Tell me something.”
I lift my shoulders in a helpless shrug. “What do you want me to say? I told you it was going nowhere.”
Cash’s face twists in pain. “Tell me anything but that. Fuck, tell me anything that will make this hurt less.”
Unable to stop myself, I lift my hand to his cheek, and he grimaces. I want to tell him it was real to me too. That this is killing me too. But I can’t.
“So that’s why you left? Why you didn’t leave a number. Why you didn’t say goodbye. Because you’re married?” My hand is still on his cheek, and he turns into it, inhaling as if he needs my touch to breathe.
I die a little inside.
“Yes,” I choke out.
