Yes, he was going big, from the set up outside, to the food and wine. He’d never cooked for a woman before, but he distinctly remembered Sawyer mentioning her fondness for seafood.
A quick phone call to the supermarket had taken care of that: oysters, white fish, and a shrimp cocktail. His mouth watered at the thought of it then his stomach dipped at the thought of Sawyer’s reaction, her mouth falling open in surprise.
The clock ticked, and he glanced up only to realize that it was almost time for Sawyer to get here, and he was still underdressed, so he hurried over to the balcony, crossing the distance in two strides and poked his head out.
“Darcy, I love what you’ve done, but I have to go get ready. Your money is on the counter. Again, thank you so much for doing this.”
Darcy waved his comment away. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had to deal with worse, and besides I think is really sweet. Good luck, Mr. Denton.”
“Thanks.”
He rushed back inside, taking the stairs two at a time as he skidded down the hall, taking a sharp turn and burst into his room, his shirt already halfway off. It was thrown into the laundry hamper along with his sweatpants.
As he waited for the water to adjust itself, he tried to keep from fidgeting or overthinking the evening. There was no reason for him to jump to conclusions, or assume the worst-case scenario.
After all, he had a lot of good points going for him, and he’d gone over them in his head, making sure he could counter-argue every single thing she came up with. He was going to go hard for it, fighting for Sawyer to prove that she should say yes.
He stepped under the spray of water, letting the liquid slide underneath his back and over his muscles, soothing and calming. With quick and deft movements, he ran the bar of soap over his body.
Moxley couldn’t wait to see the look on Sawyer’s face.
Chapter 6
Sawyer
This was exactly what she needed right now, or rather what she wanted. The whole affair with Moxley was working out beautifully because it was exactly what they both agreed on; no strings attached, just sex.
Admittedly, she’d never done the casual thing before. In fact, she’d been the type of woman who had daydreams about boys since she was old enough to realize that they didn’t smell so bad and could actually be sweet.
Since then, she’d pretty much doodled their names with hearts on her notebooks and tried out their last names, from elementary all the way until high school when she started dating her first serious boyfriend.
Bentley.
Thinking of him now brought a smile to her face though she’d spent weeks crying her heart out when he broke up with her, convinced that she would never find love again. Then again, she wasn’t any kind of exception.
Her experience with men, though limited was fairly normal.
She’d experienced her fair share of heartbreaks, but through the ups and downs, she’d held onto her belief in love; the potent magic of it, and how it could change the world. At the time, she hadn’t realized how careful she had to be, to shield her heart from people who wanted to take advantage, to take until her well was dry, and she was left parched, gasping for air.
Naturally, she had to learn that lesson the hard way, to put the pieces back together over and over, from the musician she dated in college who just wasn’t ready for anything serious, to the player who duped her into thinking she was his one and only when in reality she was just his sidepiece.
God, she’d gotten so angry at them, furious at herself for wasting so much when they all wrong for her, and she’d just ignored the warning signals, pulsing neon lights that she should’ve paid attention to.
Then again, she knew herself well enough to know that she wouldn’t have listened, she came up with every excuse in the book for them, falling for their lies over and over, willfully pulling the wool back over her eyes whenever the truth threatened to burst in.
Honestly, it was any wonder she still put herself out there and tried. After the kind of experiences she had, she was half tempted to just throw in the towel, call it quits and realize that she was cursed, doomed to be unlucky in love, to attract the kind of men who wanted to come but never to stay.
Now, for the first time, she felt liberated, free to make her own choices without any kind of sentiment getting in the way. This was why Moxley was refreshing; he was unapologetic about what he wanted, and she had no issues with that.
Who are you kidding? You’ve been nursing a crush on him since you both undressed each other in that hallway and giving yourself this little pep talk isn’t fooling anyone. Come on, Sawyer. Get real. You’re whipped!
No, she was not.
She couldn’t be.
Besides, they’d both agreed that it was better not to date, not with their work dynamic and because of the fact that she didn’t want to become one of those women; obsessing about every single attractive female within a five-mile radius.
Sawyer had no interest in becoming the woman who sat around, waiting for Moxley to give her the time of day while he charmed other women. Yes, it was good to know upfront about how active he was, but it didn’t help when she was trying to squash her feelings, to keep them from budding then unfurling into something else.
Get it together, Sawyer. You are not a little girl anymore, not that doe-eyed high school freshman, or the naïve college girl. You’re a grown-ass woman, and he IS your boss, so there’s no way this is going to end well. Just enjoy the sex and keep your mouth shut.
That was a decidedly better option than humiliating herself in front of him, by wearing her heart on her sleeve and asking if he wanted to be exclusive. She just needed to put the idea out of her head and what better way to do that than pay a visit to his house and stay in between the sheets till the sun came up, flitting in through the curtains.
Finally, they would get to get wild on a bed for a change, no more back cramps because of the office floor or leg muscles tensing up because she’d been bent over the desk too long. Sawyer was resolute; focusing on the sex and nothing else.
This was how it had to be, after all.
With that thought firmly in mind, she hurried down the stairs, heart racing anxiously inside her ribcage and hailed a cab, waving frantically till one took pity on her and stopped. She slid into the backseat and rattled off the address, sinking into the seats as he weaved through the mostly empty streets, lamplights casting long shadows across the pavement.
Dressed in nothing but lingerie, and a long overcoat, she crossed one leg over the other and tried to ignore the anxious knots in the pit of her stomach, the bout of nerves that threatened to overtake her.
It was a good thing he texted.
There was no reason they couldn’t be at each other’s houses without things getting messy; they were adults and could keep this going for as long as they wanted, liable for nothing and answering to no one.
The cab driver drove slowly, but she didn’t mind, taking the time to press her face against the glass, the cool exterior offering a stark contrast to the flush in her cheeks. Moxley shouldn’t have gotten under her skin.
Confident, honest and with charm oozing out of his every pore, she was the kind of guy she should avoid, not fall into bed with.
It’s a little too late for that.
***
Twenty minutes later, she got out of the cab and stared at the building, an unfamiliar feeling taking root in the pit of her belly. She placed one foot in front of the other till she pushed the front door open, a blast of cold air hitting her in the face.
Unused to tight security, she was surprised when a man stopped her then sent her on her way she said her name followed by Moxley’s. Her heels padded softly against the carpeted foyer as she charted a direct path for the elevator, smiling to herself as she remembered the first time they met.
Fate had a strange way of bringing things full circle.
An elevator brought Moxley into her life, barreling full speed ahead, with his Mickey Mouse
socks peeking out from underneath his shoes. Now, it was about to deposit her at his front door, in a sexy outfit.
She took a quick look at herself in the mirrored doors, the bright red lipstick, and the smoky eyeshadow, making her eyes pop. She ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing it then did a slow turn, examining herself in the mirror.
Everything was where it should be, with not a single hair out of place, but she was still anxious, the knot in her stomach refusing to unfurl. She placed her fingers over her stomach, squeezed then removed them, letting them come to rest by her side.
Almost there.
The doors swooshed open with a ping, and she stepped out into a hallway, with paintings hanging up on either side. She smiled as she let her eyes sweep over them, shoes clicking against the marble floor.
Warm spices filled the air, and she sniffed, inhaling deeply, her stomach grumbling in response. She hoisted her purse atop her shoulder and continued walking till she reached the end of the hallway, her mouth falling slightly open when she spotted Moxley, decked out in a dark tux, and a single rose in his hand.
“Hi,” Moxley greeted, stepping forward.
Out of the corner of her eye, she studied his place, curious as to what a man like Moxley preferred. The entire place was done in muted colors; gray with splashes of blue. In the corner was a state of the art modern kitchen that gleamed, and a living room set of lazy boys facing a TV that took up half the wall.
Spacious and comfortable.
This was definitely not what she was expecting, and she was pleasantly surprised that his place wasn’t a bachelor bad, far from it in fact. Moxley was a man full of surprises.
She returned her gaze back to him, offering a bright smile.
“Hi. I like your place,” Sawyer offered.
She didn’t understand why he was dressed up though.
“Thanks,” Moxley replied. “This is for you.”
Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “Am I on the Bachelor or something?”
“I’ve never seen it, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He still held out the flower, so she took it, wanting to dispel the awkwardness.
Something was clearly going on.
“Can I take your coat?” Moxley took a step forward, arms hovering near her shoulders, and she jerked back, as if she’d been slapped, nearly tripping over her own two feet.
“No,” Sawyer replied, voice shrill and unusually high. “You can’t have my coat.”
A flicker of confusion crossed Moxley’s face, so he withdrew his hands, shooting her a long look. “Is everything okay?”
Sawyer crossed her arms over her chest. “You tell me.”
Moxley’s eyebrows rose up to his hairline. “Excuse me?”
Sawyer gestured around, spotting the soft lighting out on the balcony, a quick glimpse at the candles, and the soft jazz music wafting in. “What the hell is going on, Moxley? What is this?”
Moxley frowned. “I thought it was obvious.”
Well, it was, but it also wasn’t.
She needed him to spell it out for her, just to be sure they were on the same page because she didn’t want any misunderstandings. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask for. There was a lot on the line here.
“Let’s pretend for a second that it isn’t,” Sawyer suggested, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.
Damn nerves.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Keep it together, Sawyer. You can do this.
Moxley’s frown deepened, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly unsure. Gone was the titan, the man who was larger than life, one of the most famous CEOs in the world, and in his place was a guy, stumbling over his own words.
“I like you, Sawyer,” Moxley said, eyes colliding with hers. He held her gaze, refusing to break eye contact as he took a step closer. “I really like you.”
Sawyer blinked. “I really like you too, Moxley.”
“No, I don’t mean like that,” Moxley commented, frustration seeping into his tone. He took both her hands in his, thumb tracing idle patterns on the inside of her wrist. “I mean, I like you. As in, I don’t want a fling anymore.”
Sawyer swallowed. “What do you mean?”
Moxley chuckled, nervously. “You’re really going to make me work for it, huh? Okay, I’ll bite. What I mean to say is, I did all of this tonight because I wanted to prove that this isn’t just a fling for me anymore. Over the past month, I’ve realized something.”
“Yes?” Sawyer prompted, leaning forward.
“I want something real, Sawyer. Not just some office fling where we sneak off to an abandoned office just to fuck,” Moxley revealed, his voice ringing with sincerity and honesty. “And I think we could be good together. I’m even prepared to convince you.”
“Convince me?” Sawyer repeated.
“Yes, I’ve prepared a PowerPoint presentation, and I have the projector set up and ready in the study,” Moxley admitted, steely determination in his eyes.
Well, fuck.
She hadn’t seen this coming at all.
A presentation.
Laughter bubbled up in her throat, unbidden and unwelcome, and she had to shove it back, knowing it wasn’t the appropriate response.
“Say something,” Moxley urged.
“I need a drink.”
Chapter 7
Moxley
He couldn’t claim that he was an expert when it came to love, far from it in fact. He didn’t have the first clue what to do when it came to romance, or the big gestures that women loved.
It was why he called his sister in the first place, and although he was by no means well versed in the language of love, he knew enough to know that Sawyer’s reaction was far from ideal.
In fact, it was downright nerve-wracking.
All the blood drained from her face as she walked past him and headed straight for the champagne lying on the counter, water dripping from the sides. Wordlessly, she reached for one of the flutes and filled it up, downing it one in a gulp, the sound of her lips smacking against each other the only sound.
Not knowing what else to do, he reached for the remote on the coffee table and switched off the music, plunging them into a long and awkward silence, made worse by the awkward tension hanging in the air.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything, grasping for the right words which seemed to elude him, curling up into tendrils before they vanished as Sawyer stood a few feet away, nursing her second glass of champagne.
She still wouldn’t look at him, her bright blue eyes fixed on the bottle, as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. A thin sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead, and he wanted to offer, again, to take her coat from her, but after her earlier insistence, he thought it was better not to.
Besides, what was the point?
She was obviously not going to say. It was plain to him as day that she didn’t feel the same way, and was only trying to figure out how to tell him, nicely. Considering the fact that they worked together, he appreciated her tact and discretion.
At the end of the day, he didn’t want word of this to spread and for this to affect either of them at the office. There was no reason this couldn’t be handled civilly. He swallowed past the bile in the back of his throat, his stomach dipping as he realized what he had to do.
Dully, his heart thudded, echoing the loneliness back to him, but he pushed it away, determined not to think about any longer than he had to do. It was not a big deal, and at least he was finding out now rather than down the line when it would’ve been much worse.
Yes, he had to believe that, clung to it in fact because it allowed to him to hold onto whatever shred of dignity he had left, mustering up enough courage to look directly at Sawyer and not allow himself to be dragged under by the crushing weight of despair.
She doesn’t like you back, but it’s okay. You’re a big boy, Moxley, and it isn’t as if Sawyer is the last woman on Earth. There are plenty of
others.
But none that he wanted.
With that thought in mind, he coughed and cleared his throat, startling her out of her state of reprieve. She glanced up at him, an indistinguishable expression in the depths of her eyes.
“It’s okay, Sawyer,” Moxley murmured, trying to rearrange his features into something pleasant if not neutral. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“I thought you wanted me to,” Sawyer commented, dryly.
“I do, but I think I understand now,” Moxley admitted.
He prepared a fucking presentation for her with bullet points, flashy pictures and everything. Now, he felt like a complete fool, overcome with the insane urge to throw the laptop as hard as he could, against the nearest wall, watching it shatter into a million pieces.
Far flung, never again to be pieced back together.
Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Understand what?”
“It’s clear to me that you don’t want to be with me,” Moxley said, striving to keep his tone matter of fact. “So, it’s fine, but obviously we can’t keep seeing each other like this.”
“Like this?” Sawyer repeated, incredulously. “You invited me over, Moxley.”
“I know, but I think this was a mistake,” Moxley replied, words tumbling out of him. “It was stupid really, setting all of this up, thinking I could convince you to see me as anything more than some kind of fuckboy, and I know we agreed, so this is my fault.”
Sawyer slammed the glass down against the counter and pushed herself away from it, striding towards him purposefully, her heels clicking against the floor. “Moxley, I think you need to shut up.”
Moxley frowned. “Look, I know this isn’t exactly ideal for either of us, but there’s no need for you to be—“
Sawyer pressed her finger to his lips. “Shut. Up. Moxley.”
His eyebrows knitted together, and he looked at her carefully, trying to understand where she was going.
Finally, she sighed. “Let me do the talking now, okay? I didn’t say I don’t want to be with you. I just said I needed a drink, and the only reason I said that is because I like you, too.”
Billionaire: A Billionaire Boys Club novel Page 4