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That Adam might notice.
Grateful for my long hair, I yank it out of the low bun I’d styled it in earlier and smooth it to one side. I spend the next few minutes applying makeup to my face and neck to cover up the more prominent marks.
Once I’m content my appearance doesn’t scream “just railed by my bodyguard’s brother”, I open the door, transitioning into the picture of poise and grace as I return to my table, grateful that Creed’s commandeered someone else’s chair so he could chat with one of his brother’s longtime military friends.
“Careful, E,” Harriet mutters as she leans close.
I look at her, brows scrunched. “What are you talking about?”
“Is it a coincidence that, after you left to use the bathroom, a certain Lawson also did?” she whispers. “That you were both gone for a good ten minutes, then returned just a short while after him with your hair suddenly down?”
Facing forward, I grab my champagne flute, a subtle tremble in my hand as I bring it to my lips, a mixture of nerves and the aftereffects of my orgasm rolling through me.
“I gather he’s a biter,” Marius remarks from the other side of her.
Lowering my drink, I smooth a hand down my hair, ensuring it’s still to the side.
“And if you think we’re the only ones who noticed, think again,” he continues, voice filled with concern. “Pretty sure everyone here did. Including a certain other Lawson.”
I slowly look toward the front of the room as Rory opens a baby swing. But Adam doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the number of different modes or the overhead mobile.
Instead, his eyes float between Creed and me, everything about his demeanor screaming distrust and incredulity.
I don’t even have to ask the question.
He knows.
And I have a feeling my inability to overcome this addiction is about to end us.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Esme
I pace the length of my living room, chewing on my nails as I debate whether to do this. Whether I should call Walsh and request he take me over Creed’s place, claiming we need to sort out gift baskets to donate to area hospitals with all the leftover balloons, flowers, and favors from Rory’s shower.
I want to see him. Spend a few hours losing myself in him.
But at what cost?
All I hear is Adam’s warning from last night.
“Nothing stays a secret forever. Someone will eventually uncover the truth, no matter how careful you think you’ve been.”
Adam already knows. I can feel it whenever he looks at me. If I want to make sure no one else does, I need to do everything to remove any appearance of impropriety. And that means not asking one of my protection officers to drive me to see Creed.
I hate the idea of standing him up. Of him sitting in his apartment, staring at the clock, wondering where I am. But it’s the right thing to do.
Then why does it feel so wrong?
A knock sounds, and I look toward the door, pulse quickening over the prospect that perhaps Creed sensed my unease and came to Gladwell under the auspices of visiting Anderson.
But when I make my way across the living room and look through the peephole, Creed isn’t standing in the foyer.
Adam is.
On his day off.
When he should be spending time with Rory, assembling the myriad of baby gifts they received today.
