by Piper Rayne
He smiles and rolls me over on my back, his eyes locked with mine. “You can trust me.” He seals that promise with a kiss and for the next hour, I get lost in Roarke and his wonder cock once again.
The wedding went off without a fight between Allie or Wyatt. Roarke handed his sister off to what appears to be, a great man. No one stood to object as they said their vows, no one was late, and so far, we’re midway through the reception with no hiccups.
My eyes scan the barnyard grass area lit with candles inside mason glass jars and strings of small lights. Huge bouquets of magnolias have been set on every available surface. I spot Roarke in his tuxedo, two glasses of champagne rest in his hands as he talks with Sean from the high school.
I stand to the side admiring the man who’s quickly consuming everything I think about.
I don’t have to wait long before he strolls across the grass and hands me a champagne glass.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting his offer.
“Heartbeat” by Carrie Underwood comes on and he grabs my glass placing it down on the table before I even get a sip.
“Hey, you just gave that to me,” I whine, but allow him to lead me to the dance floor.
The makeshift dance floor is beneath the star-filled sky with extra strands of twinkle lights set in the giant surrounding trees, making it feel straight out of a movie set.
Pulling me close to him, he tucks our hands between our bodies and wraps his other hand around my waist. Only a few other couples are on the dance floor and I’m positive everyone’s eyes are pinned to us. But you’d never guess that from the way Roarke holds me close, softly singing in my ear. For a man who keeps his cards so close to his chest in Chicago, I’m surprised he’s allowing these people to see him falling for the woman in his arms.
Is he falling for me? I think so. I’m trying like hell not to let the doubt of not being enough, make the ground under our new relationship unstable.
In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve had thoughts like ‘we’re rushing’ and ‘why am I picking him when I could easily find someone else?’ As much as I denied my attraction to Roarke, it’s always present when he enters a room I’m in. He got me faster than I would’ve predicted, but I honestly want to give us a try. After all, what girl really doesn’t want someone to love her for her? Even if she protests that she’s not looking for love.
Shelving those thoughts before I get carried away, I scan the outdoor gathering and notice Allie a few feet away poking her finger in Wyatt’s chest.
“I hope there’s not trouble in paradise already,” I say, nodding in the newlyweds’ direction.
He follows my line of vision and shakes his head. “That’s just them. They’re hot and cold.”
We dance in silence for another minute before I ask a question that’s plagued me since I started to develop feelings for him. “Why did you decide to become a divorce attorney?”
He glances behind me and I’m not sure who or what is there, but I’d bet that it has something to do with his answer.
“A lot of reasons. One being the money. I know it sounds bad, but I was a poor kid from a poor town. I scraped by to earn my degrees, sometimes working three jobs. I knew I couldn’t defend criminals and be a defense attorney, and with the divorce rate rising every year I felt it was a safe bet at a successful career.”
He waits for my response, but I don’t really have one. What can I say? I grew up never having to worry about money. Jobs? Well, I worked for my father—he made me the businesswoman I am, but it’s not like he made me punch a clock. My rent was paid, groceries delivered to my door. Once my trust was released, it sat in a bank account for me, reserved in case the stock market plummeted.
“Not so noble now right?” His smile says he’s teasing. “I guess I still hold a lot of resentment about my dad leaving my mom and me behind to fend for ourselves. That’d be reason number two if I had to pick one.” He draws back studying my eyes. I can’t judge him because he’s lived a life without everything I took for granted.
“Okay.” I rest my head on his shoulder, my face cradled into his neck. His cologne does crazy things to my libido.
“That’s it?” He tucks our hands tighter between us, his cheek resting on the top of my head.
“I just wondered.” I shrug.
“Do you have an opinion on my answers?”
“Nope.”
“So I give you a few orgasms and you don’t fight me on anything anymore?” His chest vibrates with a laugh. “What happened to my little firecracker?”
I shake my head and close my eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
He stiffens for a moment but relaxes as Carrie Underwood hits a high chord. “Why did you start RISE?”
I blow out a breath. “That’s a long answer.”
“We have time.”
A few more couples join us on the dance floor and another slow song starts up. Straightening my head, I stare up into his eyes. Can I trust him?
The angel on my right says he’s trusted you with seeing where he came from.
“You’re going to think I’m a spoiled brat.”
His hand leaves my hip, dragging along my body until he cradles my cheek. “Never. Come on.” He nods for us to leave the dance floor.
A few minutes later, we’re ducking through trees and shrubs hand in hand. Roarke’s got a bottle of champagne in his free hand and we walk until we reach a clearing and end up at a dock. The moon casts a mirror image on the soft ripples in the lake. A few fishing boats are tied up along the dock, nothing compared to the yachts that filled marinas I grew up around.
The wooden planks whine as we sit down and hang our feet over the edge, each of our shoes laying at our sides.
As flawlessly as I’d expect, Roarke opens the champagne bottle, suds exploding out and dropping down into the lake.
“Crap, usually I’m better at that.”
I laugh and my head falls to his shoulder. “I kind of like it that you’re not as perfect as you appear.”
His eyebrows crinkle as he looks over to me. “I’m far from perfect.”
If I was an honest woman, I’d tell him that to me he’s perfect. Other than the part about him representing my ex, but I’m trying to see past that.
“You seem like you’ve seduced a lot of women in your day. Always a gentleman in public, but the way you know your way around a woman’s body...” Even in the moonlight, I spot the slight flush to his cheeks.
“I’m glad my act is working, but there isn’t an enormous list of women in front of you if that’s what you’re asking.”
Am I? I don’t know. Probably. I’m always a glutton for punishment.
“I’m not.”
A tinge of jealousy hits me again thinking about the women who came before me. Did anyone of them hold his heart?
“Stop changing the subject, I snuck you out here so you’d tell me about RISE.” He hands the champagne bottle to me.
I take a sip and hand it back to him.
“You trying to give me liquid courage?” I ask with a chuckle.
“You know I always aim to make you as comfortable as possible.”
I knock my shoulder to his and roll my eyes. “Hmm…I always thought those were ‘get in my pants’ lines.”
He hands me back the bottle, then holds his hands up in the air. “I don’t mean them to be.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, Firecracker, why did you start RISE?”
No matter how much I try to push this conversation in a different direction, he sets us back on the path. Embarrassment makes me flush and I take a deep breath. “I grew up with expectations. My mom had me in etiquette classes and always tried to instill the belief in me that I should stand in the shadow of the man I married. As I grew older, my fellow debutantes married into wealth similar to their parents. They stood behind the men they married and learned how to throw the best cocktail parties and how to please their husbands by making them look good in the eyes of the people that s
urrounded them.”
“You don’t seem the type.” He entwines his fingers through mine, the familiar flutter in my belly starts to stir.
“That’s because you met me after the fairy tale had torn at the seams. I wasn’t the first of my friends to be cheated on, but I was the first one who left. You could say it was my dad’s doing. After all, I was the only one of my friends who got an education in business. Most of my girlfriends clung to their mom’s teachings of how to find the right personal shopper and where the best place for brunch was. My mom always tried to get me to fill that role, but she never really had that much success. I was much closer to my dad, who was a doting father…as I grew up, I started to realize that my mom had very little interest in me.”
“I still remember the first time I figured out my mom had a drinking problem,” Roarke says. “The telescope from a kid’s perspective can be gentle.”
I nod because he’s right.
“Yeah, it can be like a punch to the gut when you finally realize what’s been there all along. Anyway, we don’t need to dig into my childhood issues.” I take a sip from the champagne bottle and set it beside me on the dock. “The psychologist my mother hired when I was sixteen because I was acting out delved into that enough. After I found out about Todd’s cheating, something snapped inside of me. My mom’s response was that men will be men. My response was to hire a private investigator to find out if my father had someone on the side. The thought of my father not being the man I thought he was might’ve torn me apart more than seeing Todd with his mistress.”
“And?”
I shake my hand. “Nope. He was clean. He only goes to the golf course, the club, work, and home. My father has always looked at my mom in awe, like he can’t believe she’s his. If I couldn’t believe in that, I’m not sure I’d ever stand a chance to believe in love again. But while my mother was convincing me that it might have somehow been my fault that Todd didn’t stay faithful—that maybe I was too moody or the fact that I didn’t organize a thirtieth birthday party for him, sent the wrong message…she even suggested I read books on sex.”
“Trust me, you have no problems in that area.” He kisses my neck. “I still get hard remembering you beneath me. Todd’s a bastard who let the perfect woman slip through his fingers.”
I smile at his kind gesture to try and reassure me, but any doubts of what I could’ve done to save my marriage left the minute I filed for divorce.
“That’s sweet.” I take back another swig of champagne, the bubbles tickling my throat. “My dad told me to cut off his nuts. Said he’d pay for the lawyer, but that ultimately the decision was mine. If I decided to stay with Todd, he would respect my choice, but he didn’t have to be cordial to him. The funny thing is that I almost felt relieved that I could end the marriage and not be seen as an ungrateful brat who didn’t know how good she had it. I hated all the dinners at nine at night when he was just getting home, and always being interrupted by his co-workers or his beeper. I hated the way I was expected to not have an opinion on anything of importance. By the end of our marriage, he was already sleeping in another room, using the excuse of his schedule. I didn’t want to be married to Todd, but I felt trapped in that life.”
“I hate myself for representing that prick,” Roarke grinds out then takes the champagne bottle from me and tilts it to his lips.
“That’s the reason I had to start a foundation where girls learn to know that they have a voice. They can speak their minds and have their own thoughts and beliefs they can own and no one should be trying to silence them.” I shrug. “I see so many of my friends whose happiness lies in the mood of their husband. I might never have a daughter, but I don’t want any girl to live a life like that. You’d think the world was over gender bias, but it’s not.”
“Just when I think I couldn’t be more attracted to you.” His hand lands on my cheek and he turns me to face him. “I want to promise you something because I know trusting me is hard for you. I told you I don’t break promises. Ever. I promise to never speak for you. I’ll never order for you at a restaurant. Your opinion is always welcome even if we don’t see eye-to-eye, which let’s be honest, is going to happen. I promise to value you as an equal, always. If we walk in this relationship together, it’s going to be side-by-side—not with me leading and you following.”
A tear wells in my eye, because he’s the first man I opened up to after my divorce and his response couldn’t be more perfect.
I give him a soft smile. “I never knew such a soft teddy bear was hidden under the grizzly bear facade.”
He leans in closer. “You never wanted to find out. But I’m glad you did.” He presses his lips to mine and his tongue slides along the seam of my mouth. I don’t just give him access to my mouth, I open the entire vault and let him into my life, consequences be damned.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“You’re glowing again,” Victoria mumbles passing me by in the hallway as she runs to answer an early morning phone call.
“Am not.”
“Are too.” We bicker like two siblings telling our mom the other spilled the Coke all over the carpet. “Good morning, RISE,” she answers. “Oh, hi.”
“What’s new?” I peek my head into Chelsea’s office.
She’s pale and has a sheen of sweat over her face. “Not a good morning. Ask me at lunch.”
I laugh and step away giving her some space. Pregnancy seems downright awful to me and I’m not even privy to how scared her and Dean must be about the health of their baby since she has a rare condition that decreases her odds of a successful pregnancy.
“It’s your dad,” Victoria whispers to me, covering the receiver. “Uh-huh. A handicap of thirteen? That’s great. You must really be in the zone these days.”
I smile at her failed attempt to talk golf with my dad.
“Oh yes, ‘course, sorry. I’ll just pass you over to Hannah… Anytime, I’m sure he’d love to. Hold on one second,” she says.
My line rings on my office phone and I pick up. “Are you that desperate to talk to someone you choose to torment my assistant with your golf handicap and try to lure her boyfriend out?”
He chuckles, that deep in his throat one I’m used to. The one that means too many cigars the night before. Must have been guy’s night out.
“You should come and join me or find a real man who plays. Should’ve known Todd was a loser from the moment I played with him. Didn’t know how to angle his approach.”
I pick up my pen, teetering it back and forth in my fingers. “Good thing you don’t need to worry about that now.”
“Yes, thankfully. I need you to organize your mother’s birthday party. I’d do it, but she’ll figure me out. I’ll say I had to loan you some money, deposit it in your bank account.”
My parents have had access to my bank accounts so they could deposit since I was old enough to take out money.
“I’m really pressed for time with the gala, Dad, and Mom’s birthday is practically right after. Can’t we just skip a big do this year?”
“No.” He uses the stern voice I’ve heard only a few times like when he found me and Beau Thornton with weed in our basement when I was sixteen. I’m still impressed that I kept the secret that Beau pissed himself when my dad hauled him up to the wall by his Lacoste polo.
“Can I hire someone?” I ask.
“Clearly, you have your marketing director handling the gala. You’ve been organizing that for months. If you’re doing what I taught you to do, you’re in the final stages which means there’s not much more you can do at this point. I’m asking you to plan a small gathering for your mother. We can use one of the private rooms at the club. She needs to know we love and adore her.” The strong female I usually am would tell anyone else absolutely not, but it’s my father and as many issues as my mother and I have had over the years, I still love her.
“I’ll get it handled. Send me a guest list.”
“There’s the daughter I raised.�
�� I can hear the smile in his voice. “Your mother loves you and has done a lot for you. Remember that.”
I don’t remark on having to go with my friend and her mother to prom dress shop. Or the fact that she sent someone directly to me to fit me for the debutante ball she made me be a part of. Or the fact that the last time I ate a meal with her the sole focus was her wondering what the social fallout would be of my divorce.
“I have to get back to work.” I tap the pen from side to side on my desk.
“I haven’t seen you at any functions in a while. Is there a man taking up your time?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. Do I tell him or leave it for a surprise? Shit. I don’t even know how my dad will react. I’m not going to hide Roarke, but he’s not from our world. Even if his bank account would rival those that are, he wasn’t bred into society like I was.
“I may bring someone to Mom’s party. It’s early and I don’t want to say anything too soon.” That’s an honest answer and I kind of want to pat myself on the back for coming up with it spur of the moment.
“What’s his name? Do I know him?” my dad asks.
“Like I said, you’ll find out at Mom’s party if we’re still going strong.” I reach for my cup of coffee with my free hand and take a swig.
I delay the inevitable. My mom for sure will delve into her own dark web search to find out everything she can about Roarke. She always makes sure she has more information than anyone else, so she’ll never be surprised if someone else digs something up before her.
“Okay, okay.” He chuckles to himself, lightening the mood. “Let me know if you need anything. Make it small and intimate. You know your mom doesn’t like to be a burden.”
I just about choke on my coffee. Are we talking about the same woman?
“Sure thing. Just send me the list asap so I can get the invitations out.”