The Other Man (Rose Gold Book 1)

by Nicole French

  But the woman was more interested in staring at me than answering Nina’s questions.

  “Zola?”

  I swallowed. Fuck.

  “Caitlyn,” I said with a half-raised hand. “Hi, um, how are you?”

  Nina looked between us with a wide-eyed expression that almost immediately transformed into that mask I knew so well. Fucking fuck.

  “You two know each other?” Caitlyn asked.

  For once, I was happy Nina had avoided my touch. Well, not happy. Maybe just relieved. Maybe.

  “Mr. Zola is a friend of Jane’s,” Nina said smoothly. “He’s also advising the two of them informally about Eric’s legal…conundrums.”

  Caitlyn blinked, clearly recognizing Eric’s name as well. “Does he always advise at the opera?”

  “Calvin had another unexpected business trip.”

  “The Swiss bank deal, isn’t it?” Kyle shook his head ruefully, but almost admiringly. “Your husband snaked that deal right out from under us.”

  “He’s very good at that,” Nina replied. “At any rate, we have the box, and it was just me attending.” She shrugged, as if my presence was no better than one of the ushers, then leaned almost conspiratorially toward Caitlyn. “We are rather in debt to Mr. Zola, as it were. I needed an escort tonight, and Eric insisted on—” She tipped her head toward me like she was speaking in code. “I couldn’t really say no.”

  It was fake, of course. It had to be. But I couldn’t help the stab in my gut at her insinuation. That I was some kind of fuckin’ charity case. No better than a poor relation begging for scraps.

  It was all I could do not to walk away right then and there.

  Caitlyn’s blue eyes flashed back and forth between me and Nina as if trying to determine whether or not the story was true. In the end, she seemed to buy it. Small mercies, even if the lie did make me feel like shit.

  “Did Eric make you wear that dress too, poor thing?” She sneered, looking over Nina’s red gown where her coat had fallen open. “Let me guess, it’s one of his wife’s ‘designs.’ I heard that she’s actually designing her own dress for the gala, can you believe it?” She tsked, like she was admonishing a child. “Lord, what a color. You poor thing. Some people really have no taste.”

  “That’s probably because only some people can really pull it off.” I nodded at Nina. “Like this one.”

  Caitlyn’s eyes flashed between us. Nina, however, didn’t jump in. She didn’t say it had nothing to do with her cousin or Jane, nor did she tell Caitlyn to shove her stuffy fuckin’ comments up her ass along with the stick permanently wedged there.

  Trust me, I knew it was there, too. The woman was stiff as a board in bed.

  Instead, Nina just laughed and shrugged as if my comment proved Caitlyn’s point about taste. Caitlyn’s husband, who looked old enough to be her grandfather, eyed me like I was something on the bottom of his shoe. I fought the urge to tell all of them to fuck the hell off.

  “And how do you know Mr. Zola?” Nina pivoted everyone’s attention back to Caitlyn.

  God, she was good. Turning the question right back onto the interrogator. Intentionally using my last name to formalize our relationship. The only sign of her nerves was the slight flush on her cheeks, which could easily be chalked up to the cold. She was immovable. Implacable. Utterly impenetrable.

  Caitlyn wasn’t nearly as skilled. Her own cheeks were the color of rosé, and her eyes continued to flicker under the glare of the Lincoln Center lights.

  I had never noticed just how much she and Nina resembled each other. They were of similar height, though Caitlyn’s eyes were blue next to Nina’s gray, and her hair was more of a honeyed brown instead of flaxen gold. And right now, in a light blue dress and a coat that nearly matched her skin, she looked even more Nina-like than the woman next to me.

  I preferred my version.

  “Oh, we just, um—” Caitlyn stared at me searchingly, begging for help.

  But I was more interested in Nina, whose sharp features suddenly betrayed a steeliness I hadn’t seen before. To anyone else, she might have seemed perfectly calm. But I knew this woman. I had memorized every plane, every curve, every tick of that immaculate body. And I knew a time bomb when I saw it.

  She was mad. Really, really mad.

  “We—we met at a fundraiser for the district attorney,” Caitlyn stammered. “Yes, just a few months ago, wasn’t it, Z?” She turned to her husband. “Well before you and I embarked on our affair, my love.”

  The old tycoon looked about as sentimental as a doorknob, and as interested in the conversation.

  “Did you?” Nina’s voice, coated with sweetness, sent a ripple up my spine. “That’s incredible. Amazing how many people you meet at those things.”

  Her subtext couldn’t have been clearer. After all, wasn’t that the same line she had fed Jane and Eric just a few months ago? Was “we ran into each other at a fundraiser” the Upper East Side’s version of “we met at a bar”?

  “It really is,” Caitlyn said before turning to her husband. “Kyle, we really should be going.”

  The older man looked bored. “Indeed. You and Calvin will be at the benefit next weekend?”

  Nina nodded. “Of course. We wouldn’t miss Genevieve’s canapes. Caitlyn’s cook is the best, Mr. Zola.”

  And with the exchange of a few more air kisses with Nina, Caitlyn and Kyle left for the long line of limousines and town cars at the end of the plaza—but not before Caitlyn turned back and flashed me a meaningful look. In direct line of sight of the woman standing next to me.

  I cleared my throat. I wanted nothing more than to rewind the night by about fifteen minutes, when we could’ve escaped before we were seen. The next best thing was to pretend the awkward-as-fuck conversation hadn’t happened at all.

  “Come on, doll,” I said as I turned in the opposite direction of the limo line.

  But Nina didn’t move. She just stood there, staring at the ground for several more minutes, until more of the people who had been milling around the fountain and the surrounding buildings disappeared.

  “Nina?” I gestured back toward the opera house. “Let’s get out of here. We can catch a cab and loop around. Be at the Grace in less than fifteen minutes.”

  She finally looked up, and this time the mask fell away. The anger I suspected was there before practically shot out of her like the water from the fountain.

  “You must be joking.” Then she turned on her heel and strode in the opposite direction.

  “Shit,” I muttered, then followed her out of the plaza.

  I didn’t know where she was going, but something told me not to press her. I had done that once before and been slapped for it. Nina and I both had a tendency to lose our tempers. I wasn’t exactly sure what had happened back there, but I sure as shit wasn’t letting it go without a response. Ten minutes ago, we were ready to tear each other’s clothes off. Now she looked like she wanted to stick mine through with a knife.

  She took the long way around Lincoln Center, shuffling up Amsterdam on her four-inch heels, then back east on Sixty-Seventh. It wasn’t until she was across Central Park West with the clear intention of running into Central Park at night—again, for Christ’s sake—that I tried to stop her.

  “Nina!” I jogged to catch up as she started down the dimly lit path into the park. “Come on, let’s not do this again.”

  I looked at her heels. Pretty red things that matched her dress. Fuckin’ Christ, I had been this close to having those things digging into my back.

  Nina stopped about twenty paces in, looked down at them with me, and groaned. “Look at that. Look at that! You know, that’s two pairs of shoes I’ve ruined running away from you.”

  “Then maybe you should stop running,” I retorted.

  “Maybe you should stop chasing me when I’m angry!”

  I sighed. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll buy you new ones.”

  “At eight thousand a pair? I shouldn’t
think it likely.”

  I stepped back as if I really had been slapped. In all the exchanges we had ever had, the subject of our class disparity had never come up. I felt it, of course. But I’d honestly never thought it mattered. Not with her.

  “I—I’m sorry,” Nina said almost immediately. “That was uncalled for.”

  “Yeah, it fuckin’ was,” I said. “It’s not my fault I don’t have a trust fund bigger than the New Hampshire state GDP.”

  This time she was the one to recoil. I took a deep breath. Fuck, we could have this particular argument all night, and it wouldn’t go anywhere. Our vast income differences weren’t at the heart of what was going on anyway. The only problem was, I didn’t know what was.

  “Nina,” I tried again, this time more gently. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere and talk. Somewhere we aren’t likely to get mugged. The Grace, remember?”

  But when I reached for her hand, thinking that in the dark it would be safe, she scampered back like a wild animal.

  “No one is going to get mugged. And you must be crazy if you think I’m going to a hotel room with you after that.”

  “Nina, I know you’re not that stupid. But we’ve been over this. There is a reason why people don’t go into Central Park at night.”

  “Which is exactly why I did,” she said. “Because no one else in their right mind would follow us in here!”

  I held my hands up, talking and moving very slowly. “Whoa, whoa. Come, baby, let’s just take a minute to think.”

  “Do not call me that!” she snapped. “You cannot possibly understand what just happened back there. You don’t know who that was. What she is capable of. What she will undoubtedly do now that she has seen us.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Nina looked like she was going to be sick. “That’s right. I forgot. You ‘met at a benefit,’ was that it?”

  I ignored the question. “Look, you don’t need to worry about Caitlyn. I’ll make sure she keeps her mouth shut, if that’s what’s wrong here.”

  Nina strode toward me. Up close, her body seemed to vibrate. “I’m only going to ask you this once,” she said through clenched, perfectly straight white teeth. “How exactly do you know Caitlyn Calvert Shaw, Matthew?”

  I swallowed. I could feed her a line. Make up a story. One that was a lot more convincing than a fundraiser for my boss, who wasn’t running for office for at least two more years. Like most lawyers, I was very, very good with bullshit.

  But not with Nina. Never with her.

  “We slept together,” I said. “A few times. The first time, maybe six weeks ago, maybe two months. When I—when I was looking for you.”

  Nina’s lips curled with disgust. “You slept with her? What, were you trading one pathetic trophy wife for another? Was she my replacement?”

  “A really fuckin’ shitty one, yeah,” I said bluntly. “I had had too much to drink, I was lonely, and I was tired of pining away for a woman who seemed like she didn’t actually exist.” I rubbed my face. “Trust me, I regretted it pretty quick. I should have accepted the fact that you are just irreplaceable. I knew it the second I met you, and I’ve been paying for it ever since.”

  “Is that’s supposed to make me feel better about the fact that you screwed the woman who tried to ruin my family?”

  My brows screwed up in confusion as another part of the conversation from our first meeting floated back to me. The parts I’d been trying to remember in connection to her inheritance.

  “I had my home, my trust. I could have lived with it. Others, though, especially my—several other people were quite angry. Even my best friend, who tried to ruin the entire wedding.”

  “Jesus,” I murmured. “Not much of a friend, was she?”

  Nina shook her head sadly. “Caitlyn and I grew up together. She even lived with my mother and me for a time when we were girls, and she had a terrible crush on my cousin. But she wasn’t a good friend. Good friends don’t go behind your back to steal another woman’s fiancé. They don’t embarrass the entire family to get what they want. It was a complete betrayal of all of us.”

  “Jesus,” I murmured. “You mean she’s that Caitlyn? The one who—”

  “Tried to ruin Eric and Jane’s wedding? Yes, that would be her. You should probably know that she’s carried quite a torch for my cousin since she was a little girl, and she’s made up for his rejection by opening her ‘house’ to just about any key that tries her lock, so to speak. So you’re as much a notch on her bedpost as she is on yours.”

  “Nina, come on—”

  “Is this what you do?” she demanded. “Wander the Upper East Side hunting for vapid rich women to toy with?”

  “Of course not—”

  “I see what I am to you. Just another one, right? Another desperate, stupid housewife for you to pillage? Another feather for your ridiculous hat!”

  “Nina, you know that’s not true!”

  “Do I?” She tossed a hand vaguely toward the opera. “What makes me all that different from her, Matthew? Honestly. Can you even distinguish between us?”

  “Of course I can!” I protested, feeling like I was paddling upstream. “For fuck’s sake, Nina, she means absolutely nothing to me, can’t you see that?”

  “I bet you make us all feel special, don’t you?” Her voice was starting to warble, like a spinning top losing its steam. “Tell us we’re irreplaceable. Tell us we’re extraordinary. Make us feel that for once in our pathetic, lonely lives we’re actually lo-loved?”

  Her voice cracked on the last word and a tear spilled. My chest felt like it was cracking right with her.

  “Doll—”

  “Don’t call me that!” she shrieked. “I’m not your doll! I’m not your baby, your sweetheart, or whatever stupid names you want to use! I’m not anything to you, and now I see that perfectly!”

  “Goddammit.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her back to me, and this time I refused to let go. “If that’s what you see, then you’re fuckin’ blind. I’m right in front of you. I’m right fucking here, and I have been since we met. Scraps, though, that’s all I get. You’re married, with a family, a kid, and I’m the stray dog outside begging for your scraps. And you know what? I’ll still take them. I’ll take anything you have to give, you gorgeous, pig-headed, frustrating woman. Because I’m all fuckin’ yours if you want me!”

  “Stop saying that!” she yelled, banging her fists on my chest. “It’s not true!”

  “It is true!” I roared right back. “And I will chase you through every goddamn park in this city until you get that through your beautiful, stubborn head.”

  Before she could shout back, I wrapped my hands around her jaw and forced her still.

  “Listen to me,” I said. “Just fucking listen.”

  “What?” she demanded. “What is it you want to say?”

  I opened my mouth as a million thoughts raced through my head.

  I’m sorry.

  I’m angry.

  I hate you.

  I love you.

  But nothing seemed adequate. For the first time in my life, words didn’t come. So I did the only thing that seemed to make sense in that moment. I kissed her.

  “Mmmph!”

  Nina squealed as she shoved me away. And at first, I thought I’d fucked it all up. That she’d run off all over again, and we’d be right back to square one.

  But instead, she yanked me back to her and kissed me too. Just as hard, just as unforgiving. Our hands grabbed at each other, yanking on clothes, hair, trying to be closer than humanly possible. Our lips moved, tongues writhed in a terrible war, biting, hating, taking, breaking. God, she drove me crazy. I was so fuckin’ frustrated with her.

  And the fucked-up thing was, I had never wanted her more.

  “Matthew!”

  She pushed me away again almost violently, forcing me back a few steps into the night. But instead of running off, she did the exact opposite. She tossed her pristine white coat to the ground and wr
enched one delicate strap of her dress over her shoulder, then the other.

  “What—what are you doing?” I was still trying to catch my breath.

  “Isn’t this what you want?” Nina pulled the top of her dress down. Her breasts, as pale and full and perfect as I remembered, toppled gently into the moonlight.

  “Nina—”

  I wanted to tell her to stop, but at the same time, I wanted more. I was dying to tear the rest of her dress off, had been dying for her since the moment I saw her swathed in red, like a perfect package designed for me to open.

  And yet, here, in the park, where anyone could walk through the trees at any moment and see a duchess like this baring herself…I should get her coat. Cover her up, bring her to her senses.

  Instead, I didn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe. I was starstruck. Thunderstruck, even.

  “Do it,” she ordered, arching her chest toward me. “I know you want to.”

  “Do…do what?” I croaked.

  Nina sank to her knees, and then, to my shock began to undo the front of my pants with quick, efficient movements.

  “Nina—shit—you don’t have to—oh!”

  She pulled me out, and before I knew it, took me deep into her mouth. The sight hypnotized me—this woman, decked out in her jewels and couture, the finest thing New York had to offer. On her knees in Central Park. For me.

  My fingers slipped into her hair. I rocked forward. Her jaw loosened naturally, and a low moan escaped from her throat as she took me even deeper.

  “Oh, shit,” I muttered as I watched myself disappear between her full lips.

  She stared up at me, two silvery eyes full of frustrated lust. I pushed into her again.

  “Is this what you want?” I demanded as instinct began to take over. “To be on your knees? Sucking my cock? Letting me fuck your pretty little mouth?”

  She offered a small, infinitesimal nod and sucked harder.

  “Fuck,” I muttered as she started using her tongue, her lips, her hand wrapped around my base to conjure my pleasure, my need. What fucking magic was this? I couldn’t tell. The woman was a siren in more ways than one.