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She looked back at him confused, and he pointed to the floor or, more specifically, her bare feet poking out from the hem of her dress.
“My shoes.” Lisbeth unsuccessfully suppressed a giggle. “How silly.”
She returned a few seconds later, sat on the couch, then struggled with the straps of her dressy sandals.
“You seem very disorganized and somewhat befuddled. Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m fine.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were hung over.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” How could anyone have a hangover after only a few glasses of wine? Easy, when that person barely drank and consumed it like iced tea on a hot summer day. This was all Madeline’s fault. If she hadn’t tried to eradicate her words about Samson, she wouldn’t have drank all that wine.
Lisbeth finally wrestled her feet into her shoes and quickly pushed off the sofa. Another dizzy spell hit, and she faltered, grabbing onto the back of the couch for support.
Edward’s brow furrowed. “Maybe you’re coming down with something.” He instinctively took a half step back, afraid she was contagious.
“It’s just the early morning flight. Being in two different states.”
“We’re in the same time zone.” Edward’s steely gaze never faltered.
“Right, well, all the plane’s ups and downs.” That sentence made even less sense than the first, but it seemed like she had no control over her body or what came out of her mouth. Frightening.
“You’ve been spending time in that nightclub in Vegas, and they are a breeding ground for germs.”
Edward’s judgy tone annoyed her, but then a severe case of the guilts set in. Of course, germs rapidly spread when one’s lips were plastered to another’s while their hands roamed over . . . She gripped the couch with both hands as nausea washed over her like a tsunami.
“If you’re not up to going today—”
Lisbeth paused at the suggestion. How wonderful it’d be to jump back into bed, pull the covers over her head, and make believe last night never happened.
“I can make excuses and tell Father you’re coming down with something. No need to get everyone sick.”
“No, I’m fine.” The last thing she needed was Edward making excuses for her. Honestly, his whole sentence annoyed her. If, in fact, she was sick, he should be worried about her well-being, not how it would look to his father. And when had he become so germaphobic?
“If you’re sure?”
Last night went a little off the rails, granted, but nothing happened. Except she could still feel the heat from Samson’s palm on the small of her back, the taste of his lips as he ravaged her mouth, his gravelly voice in her ear, so seductive and suggestive, it sent a tingling to her core. Samson’s eyes bore through her as if he looked deep into her soul and already knew what made her tick—already knew which buttons he’d push to ignite a passion hiding inside.
Still, Samson’s arrogant, smug words assumed that he expected her to fall for his charms and into his trap all over again. Well, he’d be in for a big surprise because Lisbeth was getting married in a few months, and she and Edward would be very happy for the rest of their lives. So there.
“I’m very sure. Never been surer of anything in my life.” She grabbed his arm and steered him out of the apartment. Let’s go. We’re already running late.”
14
For the last three weeks, Lisbeth threw herself into her work, gave herself mental pep talks, and avoided any serious thoughts about her relationship with Edward. She’d looked forward to her wedding day for over a year, and never doubted her feelings for him or his toward her, until Samson.
To make matters worse, Lisbeth spent the entire weekend in LA with Edward, comparing him to Samson until their diverse differences made Lisbeth think she lost her mind. Evaluating each of their attributes proved fruitless because the two men were total opposites in every way, yet she found fault with Edward and questioned every word that left his mouth. She examined his allegiance to his father as kowtowing, his obsession with business talk quite dull, and worst of all, his staid, serious demeanor as cold and unfeeling.
Lisbeth chalked it up to cold feet and the usual wedding jitters. Maladies she constantly advised her future brides to overlook, reminding them to keep their eye on the big event—yet she couldn’t take her own advice.
Anxiety followed her and Edward into the bedroom with alarming results, especially when she closed her eyes and envisioned Samson’s muscled body above her instead of Edward’s slimmer build. Lisbeth freaked herself out, and even Edward noticed her stiff, almost frigid response to his affections. She quieted his fears with excuses of stress from opening her new office in Vegas when, in fact, it had more to do with a memory of who lived there.
The whole weekend unnerved her as she unsuccessfully tried to hide the bubbling uncertainness threatening to surface, and Edward’s preoccupation with his father’s award didn’t help. He seemed distant and distracted while catering to his father’s every whim.
Edward’s position as a second-in-command at Nightlife Magic made him more of his father’s lackey than an executive. Lisbeth had gently broached the subject in the past, but Edward dismissed her concerns abruptly and sometimes rudely, reminding her of all they owed to his father. She’d pushed it off as misplaced loyalty and not something that would affect their future, but now, with her questioning every part of their relationship, it was just another roadblock. Lisbeth breathed a sigh of relief when she boarded Edward’s private plane back to Vegas.
She focused on the Serpents’ upcoming birthday celebration at Ecstasy tonight, ensuring the entertainment and every detail were in order. There was a real possibility she’d see Samson there, but perhaps that would be good. After their unsettled meeting in his office, she’d realize her worrying had been over nothing, and Edward was the only man for her.
