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She gazed at him with wide and trembling eyes, her hand over her mouth, looking like a lost little orphan in his oversized sweater and her white sneakers.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered.
“Then sit.”
Piper took one shuddering breath, and then another, but she didn’t move.
Benedict’s smile was predatory. “Piper, what do you think I do to women who don’t do what they’re told?”
Her eyes flew to his. The blush that spread over her cheeks wasn’t due to her tears. She sat. Of course, she sat.
Benedict’s approach to Piper was similar to his approach to business—figuring out what needed to be done, and then expecting everyone around him to move heaven and earth until his vision was complete.
Ibrahim took up the mantle of conversation while I slid Piper’s plate in front of her. “I just finished this fantastic book on art and the male gaze,” he began.
Piper ate quietly, her eyes following us as we ate and chatted, keeping the topics light. I’d meant what I said, that she didn’t owe us conversation. Her color returned to normal as she nibbled at her steak and salad, listening intently to the three of us shoot the shit, without contributing.
When she set her utensils down and pushed her plate away, I took her hand in mine, intending to give her what scant comfort I could. She squeezed my fingers back.
An unfamiliar wave of protectiveness washed through me. I kept my entanglements to a minimum—estranged parents, no siblings, and nothing tying me down except my longstanding friendship with Ibrahim. Piper was going to challenge all of that, I could feel it.
She took a deep breath, not entirely steady, but a million times better than when she’d been sobbing in my lap at the beginning of the meal.
“I’m going to head up,” she said.
I frowned. It’s not that I was hoping for sex—that’s not what she needed. I just wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye. Who knew what the morning would bring if the weather cleared?
Benedict watched me with amusement, then cleared his throat. “Let’s exchange phone numbers, just in case.”
Silently, Piper passed us her phone so we could enter our numbers. She entered hers into mine, and I promptly booted up a group chat.
When Piper stood, we all did too. She leaned in close to brush my cheeks with her lips, and I dragged her into me for a warm hug. “You’re going to be okay, you know that, right?”
She nodded into my chest.
“Call me if you need anything.”
I watched her as she walked to the elevator and crossed my fingers that the terrible weather would hold for another few days.
Chapter Five
Benedict
SURPRISED TO HEAR MY phone ping just after midnight, I found a text message from Piper.
Piper: hey
She’d texted me directly instead of James’ group chat. Fuck. I suspected I knew what she needed, but wasn’t sure she knew how to ask for it, or even that she recognized what she was craving in that moment.
Benedict: What do you need, sweet woman?
Piper: Can I come up?
Of course she could. I sent her the room number for the suite, threw on some sweatpants, and moved from my disheveled bed to the living area to wait for her. Ibrahim and James were fast asleep, no doubt curled up together after their vigorous and enthusiastic after-dinner activities. Smug possession streaked through me. Our sweet Piper had texted me and not them, not us.
A tentative knock on the door drew me to my feet. She stood in the hallway, enveloped in a plush hotel robe, with white hotel slippers on her feet. She’d scrubbed her face, and despite the shadows under her eyes, her natural beauty shone through.
“Hi,” she whispered. Her eyes twitched down, catching on my bare torso, following the trail of hair to where it met the waistband of my gray sweatpants, then flicked back up to mine. She blushed prettily.
