At least he had some manners. I wanted to argue with him, but knew it would be pointless. “I look forward to seeing you,” I said through a fake smile.
I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. Then I wished I could tell my mom and dad to take a hike and that there was no way in hell was I helping them further their empire. But I couldn’t bear to see my mother’s expression without giving her request a chance, even if it held the same odds as a snowball surviving in hell.
“Don’t be late,” he said in a clipped tone, and then he was gone.
So much for manners. I frowned at my phone.
I flipped through my contacts until I found Tyson’s number in my phone, smiling when I saw the name Blackbird, and hit the green call button. It rang four times before I heard his rich voice in his voicemail greeting, telling me he couldn’t come to the phone and he’d return any messages as promptly as possible. He was formal on the phone, and my smile grew as he continued speaking, but I hung up without leaving a message.
“There’s that smile I love,” Claude said, walking into the kitchen. “Any particular reason you seem so pleased this afternoon? A gentleman caller perhaps?”
My smile disappeared, and I thought of the gentleman who’d called me versus the one who I’d called. There was no comparison between the two. I was stuck entertaining the one I didn’t want for an entire evening.
I shook my head and looked down at my screen. “No, Claude. Not really.”
“Hmm. A shame, really. I always imagined you with a lovely husband, a man who adores you, and a brood of children.”
I laughed softly at his description. “Yeah, well if my parents have their way, I’ll get none of that.”
My head snapped up and my lips pressed together. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
No one disrespected my father’s wishes, and no one spoke against him. Things I’d forgotten, but in their house, I needed to remember that. Claude was kind, but he was still my father’s employee and therefore would always be more loyal to him than to me and my frustrated ramblings.
“No worries,” Claude said, clearly uncomfortable. “Have a good day.” He walked to me, brushed his lips against my cheek and whispered, “Be careful, bella. Eyes and ears are everywhere.”
“Of course,” I muttered when he pulled back.
My shoulders sagged as he shuffled out of the kitchen, back to do whatever he was supposed to do. I pulled up my text messaging and sent Tyson a message.
Me: So sorry. Won’t be able to see you tonight.
Then I reluctantly slid out of my chair and packed up what I had brought with me to my parents’. On my way up the stairs to say goodbye to my mom for the day, my phone vibrated.
Blackbird: Unfortunately, I have a client who just returned to town so I’ll be busy too.
Disappointment flickered inside me because I wouldn’t have been able to see him anyway. Silly, really, since I was the one that originally said I had plans.
Me: Some other time?
Blackbird: Yes. I can still feel you on my lips.
I swallowed thickly as I read the text, my body heating in all the right places when another text came in.
Blackbird: I want to feel you in other places, too…Tomorrow?
Me: Yes.
I typed the word, the answer, the promise, without thinking, and before I could see his response, already knowing my cheeks were flushed, I silenced my phone, dropped it into my purse, and headed into my mother’s room.
All the while, a smile fought to break through. Because I will get to see Tyson. Tomorrow.
Chapter 8
I stepped into the lobby of my hotel five minutes before Malik was supposed to arrive, properly dressed in a simple but elegant black sheath dress that stopped just above my knees. The dress was conservative, with a wide neck that reached my collarbone and, because it was sleeveless, I had a silver pashmina draped over my elbows and across the back of my waist in case I felt chilly later. On my feet were simple high-heeled nude pumps, also conservative, but they made my already long and toned legs look like they went on forever, though not in an overtly sexual manner.
Dressing for tonight’s dinner was not easy; I wanted to look appropriate and like someone who should be seen on Rilotti’s arm, knowing wherever he planned on taking me, eyes would follow. Yet the last thing I wanted was for him to think he could have more just by exposing skin. I didn’t want there to be any confusion as to why I agreed to meet with him, and I planned to make that clear at dinner. I wouldn’t consider this. I had not agreed to any arrangement, as he so ineloquently put it earlier.
Something heavy swirled in my gut and I pressed my hand to my lower belly. Malik Rilotti was a man accustomed to getting whatever he wanted, and I doubted the way he achieved that was any more moral or ethical than the way my own father did.
With a heavy swallow, I tightened my hand on my small silver clutch and I tried to shake off my nerves. Bangles on my wrist clitter-clattered with the sudden, short movements. It echoed in my ears and it was the only sound I heard until a sleek, black town car pulled to the curb.
Then everything fell silent.
I froze as I watched the valet open the back door. My pulse jumped to my throat as the back door opened and Malik unfolded himself from the backseat.
I had met him only a few times in my life when my family hosted parties at our house. I would have been a young child and teenager then, and hadn’t given his appearance or his looks any thought. At the time, he had just been my father’s co-worker. To say I noticed now would be an understatement. He was truly stunning. He most likely had no problems finding a woman to warm his bed. My guess? He didn’t even have to snap his fingers to get a woman to fall at his feet. He could probably stun them all with a knowing glance.
Tall, clearly over six feet, his frame was leaner than I expected as I watched him slip a tip into the valet’s hand and glide into the hotel. Yes, glide. He was so smooth, his feet didn’t appear to touch the ground as he made his way to me in a sleek black suit with a white dress shirt opened at the throat and no tie. His thick black hair was speckled at the temples with just hints of gray, but he was clearly and instantly one of the most refined, sexually magnetic men I had ever seen in my life.
His black eyes fell to me and his full, dark lips separated into a welcoming smile.
“Gabriella,” he murmured, his voice soft and rich. He moved in close, and I had to fight a flinch when his large, firm hand settled on my hip. His lips brushed against one of my cheeks then the other before he pulled back. “You are stunning.”
I flushed under his praise instinctively. He knew how to look, how to touch. Most women probably lost their minds around this man. I didn’t even want him, and yet I was finding it difficult not to preen under his appreciative gaze.
I swallowed and then remembered my manners. “Good evening, Malik.”
His eyes flickered with amusement and his lips quirked on one side. “Are you ready to go?”
No. No I wasn’t. I had the sudden urge to chuck my heels and take off running to my room and hide under the covers for eternity. This man’s presence was disarming and frightening.
But I couldn’t fight him. There was no way.
With my nod, his hand on my hip slid to my lower back. He turned and guided me out of the hotel and into the car.
The entire time, I felt where he touched me, felt the heat from him at my side, and I’d be lying if I were to say that it didn’t affect me. It did. His power and prestige along with his elegance and grace was unmatchable. He was much like my father, instantly commanding respect and honor with a look and a touch.
Perhaps it was because I was raised to follow, to obey without question, but I couldn’t deny that as he sat in the seat next to me, staying an appropriate distance away from me on the back bench, that I felt a pull to do both, without questioning him, either.
It was distressing and I looked out the window, trying to gather my scattered thoughts when his voice cut in.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
I blinked out the window, worrying my lower lip between my teeth before I set it free and turned to him. “I promised my mother I would consider this.”
Something akin to disappointment flashed across his face before he hid it. “I see.”
And I hated that even though I didn’t want to be with him, in any way, I still felt that disappointment cling to me, slither its way into my chest, and grip me painfully.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean that as harshly it sounded.”
His smile widened fractionally. “I cannot fault you for your honesty. But I’m hoping by the end of the evening, you will be giving this idea more than just consideration.”
Doubtful. Highly. Yet I had risked offending him enough, so I matched his smile, waited for his approving nod, and then turned back to the window. We were relatively quiet on our way to wherever he planned, and I watched the city of Detroit slide past the windows. Tall, well-lit buildings so high I had to crane my neck in order to see the tops of them as we sped by.
“I forgot how large this city is,” I said quietly, breaking the silence. “And how loud it can be.”
Glancing at Malik, I saw him press his lips together. “I imagine life in Colorado was much simpler.”