David was magnificently photogenic with a piercing gaze and sturdy features. I sifted through images of him, mostly working or at events. His tall frame and broad shoulders dwarfed anyone who posed with him. A profile shot with his sister, laughing and dressed in head-to-toe black, could’ve been from an advertisement.
A few rows down, red-carpet David’s arm rested around Maria’s waist. Her green eyes narrowed at the camera as if gloating. Two more photos with her. And another with a leggy redhead.
Was anyone immune to his spell? Could he turn any married woman against herself, make her question the life she’d been so certain was right? I hated that these women got to live in David’s attention out in the open—and take it home with them at night.
Get wrapped up in his embrace.
Senses stolen by his kiss . . .
I shouldn’t know how that felt, but I did. I’d tasted it only a few moments, but I wanted more. But perhaps even more, I vehemently wished these women would never experience it again. That the kiss had meant something to him, and I hadn’t just been another in a long line.
But what right did I have to even think like that?
Bill couldn’t have known how right he was comparing my behavior to my mother’s.
Jealousy. Madness. Irrationality. Obsession.
In the weeks before she’d lost control, she’d picked fights with my dad and me over stupid things like not turning out a light after leaving a room, or over not-so-small things, like how she suddenly hated Dallas and wanted to move. She’d confided in me that she’d begun following my father and had seen him get out of a cab with the same woman she’d found in his office—his client, Gina, I’d later learn. But at the time, hiding my mom’s secret stalking had kept me up at night.
Now, here I was, unable to stop scrolling down the page, except when I saw David with a different woman. Who was the blonde? An ex, a friend, a fuck buddy?
Why was I doing this? It’d gone beyond research and morphed into—
“Bad news?”
I gasped, nearly jumping out of my chair when David appeared in the doorway as if I’d conjured him. I slammed my laptop closed. “What?”
He took a few measured steps into the office. “You look upset.”
Any hope I had of calming my heart rate went out the door as it raced at the sight of the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, come to life from the cover of a magazine. Here in my office. At night.
Since our kiss almost a week earlier, I’d had one pervading thought—don’t think of the kiss.
It never happened.
Never speak, or think, of it again.
Yet the harder I tried to forget it, the more I remembered.
His breath caressing my lips, a man so dashing in a tuxedo that he could sweep any girl away within seconds . . .
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I was driving home from my office and saw your light on.”
At the end of the workday, in a tailored suit jacket, his slacks wrinkle-free, dress shirt open at the collar, David was both put together and casual. “That’s not a reason,” I said.
He cleared his throat and checked his watch. “There’s no one at the security desk downstairs,” he said. “I walked right into the building and up here. Didn’t even need a keycard.”
“And?”
“It’s unsafe. You should file a complaint.” He glanced at the Architectural Digest, opened to his spread, then at one of two framed pictures that’d been added to the corner of the desk since his last visit. David picked one up. “Who’s this?”
“Lisa. The other woman up for my promotion.”
“Why do you have her photo on your desk?”
“We share this office,” I said. “When Lisa saw the picture of Lucy and me, she brought in one of hers.”
“To mark her territory.” He picked up a picture from this weekend. Bill and me at the cabin with Lucy and Andrew. “And it looks like you retaliated. That was quick.”
Lisa had been taking over the desk, as if she’d thought my photo had been a challenge. Her planner sat in the top drawer. Her stationery on the desk had multiplied. But that wasn’t why I’d displayed the picture taken over the dinner Andrew and Bill had caught us. Before my fight with Bill had ruined the weekend, we’d laughed, snuggled, and shared memories with our friends. I needed to keep that close.
David set down the frame. “Thank you for the help with the tuxedo.”
I flattened a hand on my desk and forced away the tempting memory. “How was the event?”
“That’s not why I’m here.” His jaw set, his expression unreadable. “I came to find out if you need anything else from me for the article.”
I moved my hands to my lap with his clipped request. “Well—we need to do a photo shoot for the spread. I may need some details to fill in the article—”
“Are you writing it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You said you prefer to edit.”
“I do.” I shifted in my seat. “But I write, too, as you know, and since you insisted on only working with me, you’re my bachelor. So I thought . . .”
Our eyes met, my claim over him hanging between us.
“You said you trusted me and only me to handle it,” I reminded him. “So that’s what I’m doing.”
“Things change,” he said abruptly. “I’d like to arrange for any remaining obligations of mine to go through someone else.”
“Like a liaison?” I asked.
“And do you need to be present for the photo shoot?”
In the short time I’d known David, determination had hardened his voice many times, but this was something else. Finality. Resolution.
Maybe even . . . good-bye?
“I should be present, yes, but I can have Lisa—”
“It’s best that we end our personal and professional relationships here,” he said.
My heart dropped. Except that I should’ve been grateful. I’d prayed for this, and my pleas had been answered.
David and I had crossed several lines. Not just personal ones, but professional, too. On Lucy’s balcony weeks ago, panic had risen in my chest at the thought of never seeing David again. It happened again now—and it had nothing to do with the fact that this could threaten my promotion.
I cleared my throat and slid a rogue paperclip across the desk, depositing it into its compartment in the top drawer. “The Meet and Greet is this weekend,” I muttered.
“I’ll be there. I’m not backing out. I’ve made a commitment, and I intend to see it through. But I will work with—was it Lisa?—going forward.”
It was the dismissive tone I’d heard David use with others like my boss and even his associate Arnaud. But never with me.
And it hurt.
This was why I’d been honing my self-preservation skills since thirteen years old. This was why I acted on logic, not emotion.
Anything else ended in pain.
“I understand.” It was a struggle to get the words out, but I hid my disappointment behind a mask. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
He looked to me, waiting.
“Was there something else?” I asked.
Frustration flashed across his features. “Yes, there is. I told you I’d never kiss a married woman, Olivia. I believed that about myself.”
I didn’t want to care, but a sliver of relief worked through me that he did. His iciness was more deeply rooted than he’d let on. I’d take his anger over his apathy, even though I was doing my best to come off indifferent as well. “How is that my fault?” I asked. “You’ve been pursuing me since the moment we met.”
“But not because I was interested in having an affair. I’m not.”
“What then?” I asked, curling my fingers against the surface of the desk. “You came onto me at the ballet, and then at Lucy’s apartment, then almost kissed me on the rooftop. Then you did kiss me. You can’t stand there and blame this on me.”
He snorted. “
It’s not your fault, Olivia. I told you I wouldn’t cross that line, and I did. I take full responsibility, but the truth is . . .” His expression turned pained. “I’ve never been unable to trust myself. And I can’t with you.”
I knew the feeling, and yet, I couldn’t dismiss the evidence against David. Not just what I’d heard, but what I’d seen moments ago on my computer screen. There was no way in hell he’d not been presented with an opportunity like this before. “You asked me if I’ve ever had an affair, and I told you I haven’t,” I said. “Have you?”
“Never. My attraction to you goes against all of my beliefs.” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “My parents, who are my world, have been happily married for thirty-seven years. I’d kill anyone who tried to come between them.”
I sat back in my seat, surprised by his candidness. He struggled with our connection, too. Despite his persistence, loyalty meant something to him. That was why he’d stormed out of Lucy’s office. But his idolization of his parents’ marriage made him even more attractive. Maybe he wasn’t pursuing me because he wanted to. Maybe he wasn’t playing with fire. Maybe, like me, the burn found him wherever he went, consuming and growing stronger, compelling him toward me.
“Then why are you here?” I asked. “Why did you come to my office the first time—why threaten to stop pretending when we’re alone if it’s not because you want to fuck me?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and glanced away. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Once he did, once he said it aloud, that would be it. If David truly wasn’t after me for an affair, for one night of giving in, then did that mean he wanted . . . more?
More could only mean one thing.
Breaking up my marriage.
Taking a hammer to the life I’d sculpted.
And it was clear to both of us—that wasn’t an option.
“Fine,” I said. “Serena will be in touch about anything else. I’ll see you at the event.”
He rubbed his eyebrow, staying where he was. “Let me drive you home.”
“What?” I frowned. “You just said we couldn’t see each other again.”
“It’s not again. It’s after dark. The Loop is quiet this time of night. And without a security guard—”
“No,” I said firmly.
“Then I’ll at least walk you to the train. Get you a cab. Whatever. It’s your safety.”
“Look, I get it,” I said with a sigh. “This is your thing.”
His brow furrowed. “What’s my thing?”
“You’re a gentleman. You’re just not mine.”
With us, it was all or nothing—and it couldn’t be all. If he even walked me downstairs, we’d be doing something wrong. Just being here with him was a transgression.
I didn’t have to explain that to him. David hesitated a moment, then turned and walked out.
I should’ve been thankful. I should’ve been relieved. I thought of Bill, and knew this was the right thing. I thought of David, and the idea of not seeing him again after this weekend hurt in the spot my heart should be.
I got up from my desk and went to the door. In another life, I would’ve called David back. If I were a different woman, I wouldn’t let someone like him get away. Was it him, though, or was it that he sparked things in me I’d been able to control for the last sixteen years?
I closed the office door and leaned my back against it, physically steeling myself from going after him.
I’d committed a greater crime than kissing another man. I’d let him believe my marriage could be penetrated. That he could waltz in and take me from Bill. That I was missing something in my life that he could give me.
I’d let myself believe that.
No—I’d already known I’d never have those disruptive and often sought-after wild emotions with Bill, but I’d made an agreement with myself when I’d made a commitment to him. A stable, predictable life was better than a volatile one. Passion always came with pain.
The clock above the door ticked down, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. If I opened my laptop again, I’d be faced with David and his girls. If I went home, I’d be alone with my David-fueled thoughts.
But then, the elevator dinged. My heart soared as shoes hit the ground.
David.
He’d come back. Or had he never left?
Was he also doing everything he could to convince himself staying apart was the right thing?
Or was it simply that he couldn’t resist getting me home safely, even though I wasn’t his to protect?
My heart pounded faster as his footsteps neared and then stopped outside my office. My willpower was only so strong. He was the one who’d said this couldn’t go on. Why was he back to make us each suffer more?
I turned slowly, hesitated with my hand on the doorknob, then opened the door.
And met the angry, burning gaze of Mark Alvarez.
17
My mind struggled to catch up, my limbs frozen in place. I’d opened my office door expecting to find David Dylan and was now staring down a man who’d recently threatened my life.
Fuck.
What the fuck.
Where had he come from? How? Why?
With my attempt at a step back, Mark Alvarez lunged to grab my blouse. “You didn’t deliver my message,” he said, anger flashing in his brown eyes.
“I did. I swear, I did.” My heart slammed against my ribcage. Out of nowhere, sweat trickled down my temple. “But Bill doesn’t work with the DA’s office anymore,” I rushed out, pleading. “He can’t just get someone out of jail.”
“It’s Bill’s fault my brother’s in there, and he’ll find a way to—”
Fear surged in me. I kneed Mark in the balls. He released me with a curse. With no time to be shocked over my instinct to hurt him, I darted to the right.
I was almost past him when a fist in my hair yanked me back. “I don’t think you understand,” Mark said, dragging me deeper into the office. He pulled a knife from his waist. “Bill fucked with my family, and now I fuck with his. Eye for an eye.”
My heartbeat whooshed in my ears, and the room began to spin. The short blade, silver and jagged, looked nothing like a kitchen knife, but my mind went blank like I was thirteen again.
Mark shoved me, and with my eyes on the knife, I backed away until I hit a wall.
“This is your second warning.” Mark advanced until he was nearly on top of me, breathing hotly in my face. He put the blade to my throat. “And we’ll keep coming back. Lou should’ve got out with me. We did the same crime. Your husband must’ve fucked up.”
My head began to throb where I pushed it against the wall, trying to keep my throat from the blade. “I’ll tell Bill, I promise.” I wasn’t sure what Bill could do, but I needed to say anything to escape the knife. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Hurt you? Nah. I’m going to make you feel good.” He stuck the blade between his teeth and ripped open my blouse with both hands. Buttons scattered on the carpet as I screamed.
He smacked me across my cheek, and my face flew to one side. “Shut up or I’ll gag you.”
I went silent. I’d never been hit. It shocked me into immobility, but I had to move.
Run. Escape.
This wasn’t a warning. It was a message. It was life-altering, world-shattering—something I’d never recover from. I stretched my jaw as it throbbed with pain and willed myself to fight back, but the knife sharpened in my view as my vision blurred with tears.
The thought of blood instantly nauseated me. I could already see it smeared on my pajamas, pain searing through my side, the shouting, my father’s voice soothing me between roars to call 9-1-1, the sirens, my mother’s sobs . . .
Mark put the tip of the knife to the spot he’d hit me, stinging my cheek with the cold blade. Without breaking skin, he dragged it down my face, my neck and chest, between my breasts. When I flinched, a slow smile spread across his face. “I want there to be no question,
” he whispered, pressing his body flush to mine, “that Bill Wilson understands what we’re capable of—”
Mark flew backward and landed on his back with a smack so loud, it knocked the wind out of me. Standing over him, David Dylan looked like a superhero in a pressed suit.
“Run,” David commanded me. “Now.”
He grabbed Mark by his shirt, levied him off the ground, and hit him square across the face, putting him back on the ground.
I yanked my blouse closed as my entire body shook. Where was the knife? David was definitely bigger than my attacker, but Mark fought dirty and had an axe to grind.
Blood trickled from Mark’s nose as he writhed. “Who the f—”
“Go, Olivia,” David said, anger shaking his voice. He lifted Mark by his shirt collar just enough to hit him again. Mark groaned but reached under himself, searching for something in his waistband.
“He has a knife,” I cried.
Still bent over my attacker, David whipped his head up to me, his hair and suit disheveled. “I said get the fuck out of here, Olivia. Go—”
Mark rammed his boot into David’s stomach, sending him onto his back. Mark scrambled to his hands and knees, shot up, and ran.
On his feet in the next second, David put a hand out. “Stay here, Olivia. I fucking mean it,” he said and bolted out.
I searched the office for the knife, but it wasn’t there. Mark still had it. As much as that fact made me want to hide, I had the stronger urge to help David, who’d put his life on the line by coming back here.
I fisted my top closed with one hand and hurried through the doorway. Two shadows darted through the dark office’s cubicles and crashed through the lobby’s glass doors.
With a gunshot, I yelped. David. I sprinted forward, my eyes frantically roaming the dark. When I reached the dimly lit lobby, I found Mark on his back with David straddling him. Each man had his hands locked around the other’s neck.
David wasn’t shot. He wasn’t bleeding. Relief didn’t come, though.
The gun sat a few feet away on the glossy porcelain tile. I snatched it off the ground. Small but undoubtedly powerful against my trembling palm. Jesus. Growing up, my father had kept a gun in the house, but I’d never held it.
Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set Page 18