He shook his head quickly. “I love seeing it through your eyes. I put a lot into this, but I can’t control how people interpret it. What you feel looking at it could never be wrong.” He stuck his hands into his pockets and started toward the entrance while I stared after him. “Coming?”
I could easily listen to him go on about his work as if it were art, and it clearly was.
I had to take long strides to catch up to him.
Large palm trees sprung from the ground, greeting us as they lined the walkway. “These are unexpected,” I said.
“This will all be grass.” He motioned toward the empty lots by the entrance. His face lit up. “And the lobby opens up. These glass doors slide open during the warmer months.”
I walked over and touched the stone at one corner, smooth to the eye but coarse and uneven under my palm. Clean gray edges and long rectangular windows that reflected blue sky structured the front of the hotel, ocean waves crashing and foaming on black sand beaches.
He slid open one of the floor-to-ceiling doors and motioned me through. “Welcome to The Revelin.”
“Dave,” a man called from across the hollowed-out space.
“I can’t get a second,” David said with a smile. “Excuse me.”
While they spoke, I wandered the room, envisioning what it would become. It wasn’t much to see because of the construction, but windows filled the future lobby with sunlight.
I looked back at David. Three people surrounded him now, each one looking to him for something. His presence at my office had been strong, but it grew here in his element, even in all the empty space.
He stopped talking suddenly and searched the area until he spotted me. That new, yet somehow familiar, tether pulled between us. Just like when we’d met eyes at the theater. He held my gaze, a language only we spoke that said more than words could. It had to. Whatever draw existed between us shouldn’t be made real by anything said aloud.
David came directly to me, leaving behind questioning faces. “Are you okay?” he asked as he approached.
Was I? His attention was like a drug, catapulting me to terrifying heights with each hit. What would happen when he took it away? I’d fall—and smack against the concrete of reality. Even if I had to be the one forced to break the connection. Because it would be broken at some point.
David exhaled a breath and touched my upper arm. “I understand,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. Heat seared through my blouse, stinging the flesh directly beneath it. His broad shoulders shielded anyone who might be watching our restrained contact. I wanted nothing more than to step into him. Feel that same heat pooling in my tummy against my cheek, my breasts, under my hands.
My gut smarted—even this was too close for us. Any nearer, and I didn’t trust myself not to forget the consequences and fall into him.
The creases in his face deepened. “I don’t want to push you,” he said, dropping his arm. “You need to make your own decisions.”
His insinuation jarred me back to the moment. “Decisions?” I repeated, frowning. “I made my decisions years ago.”
“Nothing is permanent, Olivia. I know what’s happening here is sudden, but believe it or not, I’m biting my tongue. If you weren’t married, you and I would be on a different path. At Lucy’s party, I would’ve—”
“Don’t,” I rushed out. “It doesn’t matter.” My chest constricted as I tried and failed to catch a deep breath. What was he saying—or not saying? Bill and I had history. I’d barely met David. “There are no decisions. No options. No confessions. If we want to have any type of friendship, I need you to understand—”
“I do,” he said, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “I understand.”
“No, you don’t. That text the other night—what if Bill had seen it? And now you’re going to be working with Lucy, too?”
“Is that a problem?”
“I haven’t told her about the article yet.”
He cocked his head. “Why not?”
His infuriatingly kind yet astute eyes bored into me, mining for answers whether I wanted to give them or not. I turned away. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do, Olivia. You haven’t told her because just being in the same room with me feels like you’re doing something wrong.” He stepped forward. “And you’re going to tell me that doesn’t mean something?”
It shouldn’t. I was married—and David? I had a feeling he’d meant something to half of Chicago’s female population at one point or another. I balled my fists and faced him. “I’m going to tell you that it doesn’t matter what it means. There’s no scenario in which I sacrifice a perfect marriage for a playboy I met five minutes ago.”
I went to go around him, but he took my arm, pulling me close. “A perfect marriage?” He chuckled something dark. “Now I know you’re living in a fantasy.”
I whipped my gaze to meet his, a spark igniting between us. “You don’t know anything about my life.”
“Wrong. A perfect marriage doesn’t exist. My parents are the happiest couple I know, and even they have flaws. If you think yours is perfect, it’s because you’ve crafted it that way. Molded it. But just because you ignore the cracks doesn’t mean they don’t exist. This foundation you’re standing on? I had to repair it because the previous owner ignored the cracks too long and did extensive damage.”
My heart raced as he unfurled the truth before my eyes. It wasn’t as if that was some huge revelation, though. “I’m not some project of yours. This is my life. A life I put together because it’s the life I want. I chose this.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to stand here and play a fucking role in that act like everyone else,” he said. “You’ve surrounded yourself with people who let you get away with it, including your husband. It sounds to me like he lets you walk all over him. That’s not me, Olivia.”
I nearly vibrated. Bill had chosen this, too. I did not walk all over him. But the way Bill and I were—I knew instinctively that David would never put up with it. “And it never will be.”
“If you’re determined to live a lie, then no, it won’t,” he said. “What’s happening between us is real. You can run away, but that won’t change anything.”
I jerked my arm, but he held it just firmly enough to keep me from fleeing. “Let me go.”
“We’re not finished here,” he said. “Walk across the room. Get on the elevator. We’re going up to the roof to finish our interview.”
I sucked in a breath as my knees weakened with his commands. It wasn’t only indignation reverberating through me, but also arousal for the way he spoke to me. The way nobody spoke to me. My brain fought my body’s urges to obey. To do anything he said, to please him, to relinquish the control I’d held so tightly for so long.
God, I’d fought damn hard to gain and keep control in every aspect of my life—how could I possibly want to give it all up to David in this moment? And how did he know I needed that?
He released my arm, looking me over. “Go.”
He expected me to do exactly as I was told. Dared me to find out what would happen if I refused.
I turned and walked through the scaffolding and over to the hoist, my breath coming fast, excited.
He met me there and handed me a conspicuous red hardhat.
I wrinkled my nose at it and then looked up at him in full pout mode. My hair didn’t need another reason to act out.
But with his stern expression, and the thrilling demands he’d just made of me echoing through my mind, I placed it on my head.
I stepped in the cage, testing the sturdiness of it. He followed a second later, and it jolted to life, carrying us up.
David leaned down and spoke near my ear. “And if you call me a playboy one more time, Olivia—I’m going to put you over my knee.”
Desire exploded in my stomach, my heart pounding. He would . . . he would spank me? I was certain I’d never been more turned on than I was in that moment. But why? I’d never fantasized abo
ut being spanked.
“You wouldn’t,” I breathed, barely recognizing my breathy voice.
“Try me.”
When the car stopped, David sauntered onto the rooftop with complete aplomb, as if he hadn’t just turned my world upside down and lit a fire in me without so much as a touch.
My feet followed him, my mind too stunned to protest. I tried to focus on what he was saying.
“This outdoor space will be accessible to the guests in the penthouse suite,” he explained. A breeze passed over us, and I stepped into sunshine for warmth. “This gutted area, next to the deck, will be a private infinity pool. It has a glass bottom so you can see into it from the suite.”
I followed the line to the edge. A small part of the pool would jut out from the building, hanging over the side.
“It’s cantilevered so you can swim out and over the city. Listen,” he warned, “as you can see, there’s no barrier, so keep back. I just wanted you to see the view.”
I rotated to take in all of the Chicago skyline, lit by the brilliant sun, then edged closer to the side, exhilarated to be high above everything—and completely alone with David. The heat of his palm remained on my shoulder, my skin still buzzing from his touch, my mind reeling at the thought of that same hand warming my backside.
What was I thinking? What was I doing?
I didn’t want to force the thoughts away or lose this dangerous feeling.
I craned my neck and stepped forward.
What would it take to feel him again, to get that rush of electricity? I rolled on the balls of my feet. Lean just a little more . . .
He gently tugged me back. Chills broke out over my skin, his touch so stimulating, it should have some kind of knob so I could turn it down.
“It’s . . .” I looked out at the water, trying to find the words.
“Humbling,” he finished.
There wasn’t anyone else in our world, not one person who could see us on our glass mountain. The breeze kicked up, blowing my hair in my face. I removed the hardhat and tucked it under my arm to smooth some strands away.
As David took in the view, I couldn’t not look up at him. Out here, away from prying eyes, I could stare. I got my fill. I gave in, despite the fact that I’d just told him to cool it.
Another whip of wind blew more strands into my lip gloss. The air crackled with a charge that quickened my breath.
Finally, David lowered his eyes to mine and wet his lips so quickly, I almost missed it. My yearning to know how his mouth would feel on my skin had to be written on my face. Any woman who looked as I must have right then knew exactly what she was doing.
David’s impassive expression did nothing to slow my heartbeat. He was going to kiss me. I had to speak up. Stop him. Stop myself. My breath shallowed in anticipation. I leaned in, complicit. Guilty. Wanting. I didn’t care what the consequences were, I needed his lips to land on mine. I needed him to quiet the kaleidoscope of butterflies taking over my stomach.
The wind lashed violently, whistling around us. David flinched and turned his head, squinting somewhere beyond us.
The helmet slipped from my grip and bounced on the ground.
He swooped and grasped it effortlessly, handing it to me. “Don’t take that off again,” he said, avoiding my eyes.
As the moment faded, my sense returned—this time, tinged with irritation that I’d not only submitted to David’s commands but had been about to give in in an irreversible way. And that David hadn’t.
“From now on, we conduct these interviews at my office,” I said.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“No?” I asked. “Why not?”
“You don’t have to worry about us being alone. I’d never kiss a married woman.”
His abruptness momentarily stole my response. “Then you will never kiss me.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
I curled my hand into a fist. “We won’t ever be alone again. If you can’t respect that, then I’ll pull you from the article. Even if it costs me the promotion.”
I walked away and left him staring after me.
13
By Chicago’s standards—or, at least, compared to my seven-hundred square foot one-bedroom in Lincoln Park—Mack and Davena owned a small mansion. In their townhome in the Gold Coast Historic District, I sat on a plush, ivory, cabriole sofa that brought the eighteenth-century-fashion room into the present.
I held a mug of tea, leaning against shiny pillows with gold tassels, as Davena stood over me. She studied the Just Listed postcard I’d taken from the Oak Park house Bill and I had seen over the weekend.
“It’s lovely,” she decided with a firm nod. “I agree with your realtor. I think the neighborhood is great for a young couple.”
“Bill really likes it.” I sipped my spiced chai. I tried to visit Davena often—especially when my thoughts weighed heavy. As my godparents, she and Mack knew me better than most. And that was lucky, because Davena always gave great advice.
“I’m on the fence,” I admitted.
“Why’s that?”
“I guess it just doesn’t feel like the right place. Across the street, there’s this terrible home—”
Her eyebrows shot up. “As in dangerous?”
“No, no. I mean run-down, overgrown, probably a hazard. But . . . the bones are amazing. It has lots of potential. And character. I shouldn’t like it, but I do.” I indicated the postcard. “This house, though—it didn’t inspire anything for me. And maybe that’s a good thing? To feel emotionally detached about a decision like this? Bill isn’t, though. He has his heart set on it.”
She sighed loudly. “Well, sometimes you have to compromise a bit.”
I cupped my hands around the steaming mug. “But I’m already compromising.”
“How?”
I pursed my lips. “I’m not ready to leave the city. I’m happy here.”
“But you won’t be far.”
“It’s not the same to me.”
“It wouldn’t be to me, either,” she said. “Why are you leaving then?”
“Bill’s the opposite. He wants something quieter.” I scratched under my nose. “And . . . he’s ready for, you know . . . the ‘B’ word.”
“Ah. Babies.” She handed back the postcard and looked down at me. “You say he’s ready, which indicates you’re not.”
“I don’t know how to feel,” I said. “I don’t see myself as a mother, but Bill says that will come. I’m just not able to picture it, so I can’t give him the answer he wants. Or any answer, really. Did you ever regret not having children?”
“We did have one,” she said. “Many years ago—but he didn’t make it a day.”
I frowned. “I had no idea, Davena. All these years, you’ve never mentioned him.”
“You were a baby when it happened,” she said, waving her hand. “God’s plan. I just didn’t have the heart to try again, and Mack was supportive. Next thing I knew, I was just too old. But no, I don’t regret it—kids aren’t for everyone.” She smiled to herself. “Mack would’ve made quite a father, though.”
She left the room but returned a minute later in just a bra and drawstring pants with a brush in her hand. She teased her short, blonde hair in jerky, upward motions. “You know, not everywhere is going to feel like home right away. It takes time. It’s about who you make the home with. With Bill, it doesn’t matter where you live. Does it?”
Her brow arched with a question that sounded rhetorical and was surely meant to make me think. I agreed. It didn’t matter where we lived, Bill and I should be home for each other.
As Davena spoke, I couldn’t peel my eyes from the large bandage on her ribcage and the purple bruise spreading from both ends of it.
She stopped brushing and dropped her hand to her side to catch her breath. After a moment, she sat down next to me. “The doctor’s not optimistic, Liv.” Her sunken eyes twinkled anyway. “I’ve made peace with
that, though. And I’m not in much pain. All right?”
For her to admit there was any pain, it had to be serious. I balanced my mug on my thigh and reached for her hand. “We should talk about it.”
“We should talk about you,” she said.
“Davena—”
“Please, dear. Take my mind off death and tell me about life. What’s new?”
I couldn’t refuse a request like that. “Bill and I are going away this weekend with Lucy and her fiancé. Bill’s been working overtime, so it’ll be nice to get a break.”
“Wonderful idea. Show that Bill of yours how much you appreciate his hard work.” She lowered her voice. “Get yourself over to La Perla before you go. Look for Alejandro. He’s gorgeous, but he knows shit about lingerie.” She patted my hand, then waved hers. “So when you’re done looking at him, ask for Joanne. Tell her to put it on my account.”
I laughed. “I can’t remember the last time I spent money on good lingerie.”
“No? I still do all the time.” She leaned forward to where I’d placed my handbag on the coffee table. The spec-sheet our realtor had given me along with the postcard stuck out from the bag. “May I?”
I nodded. Davena unfolded the paper, turning it over to see more pictures. “It’s a nice, easy house. What exactly is it you don’t care for?”
I glanced over the interior photos. “I just didn’t get a gut reaction. You know, when something feels right?”
She cocked her head. “Is that usually how you operate? Off your gut? You’ve always seemed more practical than that.”
I nodded slowly. “My father is practical . . .”
“And Leanore is as irrational as they come,” Davena completed my thought.
“There isn’t room for two of my mother in any family.”
“I agree,” Davena said. “But why the sudden need to trust your instinct over your sense? This isn’t about finding the right house, Liv. If it were, you’d be able to step back and see that this”—she handed me the flyer—“is perfectly fine. So what else is going on?”
Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set Page 14