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I laugh but I feel too warm, too exposed. Running into his ex-fiancée, this dinner, him calling me his girlfriend, knowing I’m spending the night in his condo. I’m not prepared to deal with the serious feelings I have for this man.
“I think we’re past the point of pretending I don’t have money, Rian.”
“I know.” I stare at the menu, overwhelmed, afraid to like this, to want this.
“You deal with people who have excessive amounts of money on a regular basis. Why does this make you so uncomfortable? Is it because of Stacey?”
“No. Stacey has no bearing on anything.”
“Then what is it?”
I exhale a slow breath, debating how much I can, or should, reveal. I need to give him something, maybe not the entire truth, but part of it, especially with everything that’s already happened tonight. “It wasn’t always like this for Marley and me.”
“Wasn’t always like what?” Pierce shifts so his knee brushes mine under the table.
I adjust the silverware on the table so both knives are perfectly parallel with each other. “When we were young, before our parents…” I clear my throat, unable to find the right words. “We had money. Things weren’t always a struggle.”
“You’re doing incredibly well. You should be proud of what you and Marley have accomplished.”
I nod. “I know. And I am. But we were in a very different place when we were teenagers. My grandparents … They owned a lot of property. I wasn’t quite honest with you about the Mission Mansion.” At his questioning look, I elaborate. “My grandparents weren’t friends with the owners; they were the owners.”
I’ve given Pierce enough information to uncover the whole truth if he digs. Who my parents really are. How my world fell apart all those years ago, and how Marley and I have had to fight our way out of debt and a ruined family name. Part of me is relieved, and part of me is terrified. I remind myself that the expiration date on us is fast approaching.
Pierce blinks, his shock obvious. “Why didn’t you say anything before now? Why keep that a secret?”
I trace the edge of the steak knife. “It’s hard to talk about it. Seeing it all the time and having all of these memories connected to it is painful. When my grandmother passed, we lost a lot, including the Mansion and everything in it.”
Pierce picks up my hand and brings my knuckles to his lips. “God. That must’ve been awful for you.”
“I just want it back. I know it’s not likely to happen, but all my best memories are wrapped up in that house.”
I can see the questions in his eyes, but the server arrives with the champagne, and any ideas I have about telling him the whole truth disappear. If he wants it, he can find it, with or without my help. And I’m okay with that. I think.
I drink champagne to calm my nerves—very expensive champagne—eat lobster for the first time in a decade, and listen to Pierce talk about how much he loves what he’s doing now, and how he wants to keep it up even after the summer is over. I don’t want to have hope that this will happen. And I fall. Faster and farther and deeper, because there are so many sides to him. So much I get to discover.
I’m afraid that when he eventually finds out the truth about me, it’s all going to go away, and how I probably deserve to lose him for not being completely honest in the first place. Now that I’ve accepted this connection we have, one that goes far beyond simple chemistry, I realize I should’ve been honest from the start. But it’s too late to take back the half truths and omissions. I tell myself that I’ll find the right time to explain it all to him, maybe in the morning. But tonight I just want to enjoy him. I allow myself to pretend nothing will change and that I’m not falling in love.
By the time we’re finished with dinner it’s after eleven. I’m tipsy. Okay, I’m actually pretty sure I’m drunk. Again. This is two nights in a row. My liver is going to hate me and stage a revolt.
I don’t pay much attention when we reach his condo. It barely registers that we bypass the bank of regular elevators in lieu of a set with PH on it. Pierce has to punch in a code then scan his thumbprint before the doors open.
“Is this your own personal elevator?” It’s supposed to be a joke.
“It’s dedicated. Watch your step.” He keeps his hand on the small of my back as we step inside, and he presses his thumb to an infrared keypad. The doors slide closed, and then we’re moving, but the ride is so smooth it’s hard to tell that we’re in motion.
Since we’re alone I take the opportunity to get in some elevator snuggles. I put a hand on his chest, and he backs up until he hits the mirrored glass wall. His smile is knowing, and maybe a little needy, fused with amusement. I fist his tie and tip my head back.
He grips the railing and dips down to brush his lips over mine. The whole night has been one big foreplay session, and I’m feeling a little impatient. There’s an edge of desperation I can’t calm, a prickling fear that this tenuous hold is about to break and tonight’s revelation is going to rip this all away from me. Maybe it’s because that’s what happened every time I had a boyfriend who found out about my family’s sordid past.
I can drown out the worry with touch. Pierce can make me forget all my fears, at least for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll open the door to the closet of my past and deal with the consequences. I slide a palm down his chest, skimming past his belt buckle to cup him through his dress pants.
He’s lightning quick, fingers circling around my wrists as he spins me around, clasping them in one hand behind my back. “I thought the only hand that was touching my dick this weekend was mine.” He sinks his hips into mine.
“It’ll be Monday in an hour. Technically that means the weekend will be over.”
His grin is almost evil. “That’s going to make the next hour interesting then, isn’t it?”
“I like interesting.” This is what I need, what I want. A distraction from what’s happening in my head and in my heart.
The elevator doors slide open and I find myself lifted up. A seam tears somewhere on my dress as I wrap my legs around Pierce’s waist. He carries me through his condo—penthouse, whatever—I don’t remember him unlocking a door, and then I’m laid out on a bed. A big one. One that smells faintly of him, his body covering mine.
The next hour isn’t interesting—it’s torture. The best, most amazing torture, full of the most insanely teasing orgasms. And when midnight hits, Pierce is in me, on me, owning me, and I’m falling.
Falling.
Falling.
And I never want this to stop.
CHAPTER 26
UN-KNOW
RIAN
Pierce is the picture of sexy sweetness sprawled out on the mattress, pale-blue sheets hanging precariously low on his hips. He’s out cold. Which makes sense since it’s eight in the morning and he’s been asleep for less than five hours.
I should close my eyes and try for a few more hours of rest, because I’m grossly underslept these days, but my brain is already on sprint mode, reviewing last night, the conversations, the sex, the everything. I shouldn’t have said anything about the Mission Mansion. But I’m tired of hiding. Obviously I’m scared that he’ll walk like everyone else has in the past, but if that’s the inevitable end, it’s better it happens now than later when my heart is totally locked up in him.
