Just One Night, Part 2_ Exposed(7)

He’s silent; a malicious smile plays at the corners of his lips.

“Who drove you to the marina?” I ask softly. “Who else knows?”

He wanders past me toward the kitchen, forcing me to follow him for my answer.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” he asks as he reaches for a coffee cup.

“What’s hard?”

“Being kept in the dark.”

I don’t answer. I wait a moment as he pours himself a fresh cup of coffee from his coffee maker; he’s only made enough for one cup.

I force myself to turn and leave the room. I’ll find out who knows. I’ll think my way out of this.

But as I climb the stairs toward the shower, I realize that the questions are piling up. I need a solid strategy, I need to know who else knows. . . .

. . . and I need to figure out Dave’s motivations. If he hates me, why does he want to keep me? Control? Or something else?

I go into the bathroom, close the door, and peel my clothes off as I warm up the shower.

The door to the bathroom opens and I turn to see Dave looking at me. I recoil, grabbing a towel and holding it up against me.

“You’re my fiancée,” Dave says, taking a step forward and pulling the towel from me. His gaze oozes over naked skin. “And this is my house,” he adds.

I hold up my head, resist the urge to cover myself again. I stretch out my fingers, keeping my hands stiff as boards so they don’t curl into fists.

Dave quickly tires of his game and turns away, walking back toward the door. “Besides,” he says, calling casually over his shoulder, “it’s not like I’m seeing anything you haven’t shown to any man who asks.”

I bite down on my lip as the door closes. Maybe I can find courage in hate.





CHAPTER 3





WHEN I GET to my office Barbara, my assistant, is at her desk. She gestures for me to approach; culpability and concern color her expression. “Mr. Dade is in your office.”

No one is allowed in my office when I’m not there. Each consultant here has too much confidential information nestled into our files to be so careless.

But it’s hard to resist Robert when he tells you what he wants, so I know he’s basically forced Barbara to give him entry.

I take a pad of paper off her desk and scribble down a series of menial tasks that I say need her immediate attention; all of them require her to be away from her desk. I stand there until she leaves, knowing that I bought myself at least a few minutes of privacy. Once she’s gone I walk in to greet him.

Robert Dade is leaning against the front of my desk, his arms crossed over his chest, his legs crossed at the ankles. He’s relaxed, patient, beautiful. Everything I would expect from him. His eyes meet mine as I step toward him, letting the door close behind me.

I feel a rush of confessions press up against my clenched teeth. I want to tell him about the desire that bubbles up when I look at him and that his being here makes the shadows a little lighter.

I want to ask him to touch me.

But instead I look away. “We don’t have an appointment.”

“You’re working for me,” Robert points out. “My business can bring your firm millions. Do I really need an appointment?”

But it’s not a question. Just a gentle admonishment.

Quietly I lock the door, something I almost never do, but at the moment, interruptions can be dangerous.

“So, you’ve made your choice,” he says as he wanders around the boundaries of the space, taking in the pale yellow walls and company-approved artwork.

“I told you, I’m with Dave.”

He looks at me sharply, more curious than angry. “Say that again.”

“I’m with Dave.”

“You’re saying his name . . . differently.”

I laugh; I want the sound to be buoyant, but the heaviness of my mood adds unwanted weight. “His name has always been Dave. There’s only one way to pronounce it.”

“That’s not what I mean. Before when you spoke of him you sounded . . . determined. He was your decision. Now . . .” He lets his sentence drop off and waits to see if I’m going to fill in the blank. When I don’t, he walks toward me, and I don’t move. I don’t even blink as he brushes my hair from my face.

“What is it, Kasie? What’s changed? You seem . . . scared.”

“You know what I’m afraid of,” I hiss. “I don’t want to lose who I am. Dave keeps me grounded. You . . . you’re . . .” I hesitate. I want to say that he’s the tsunami that turns land to sea but I can’t get the words out. I want the land that I’m standing on to be destroyed. He’ll hear that in my voice. So instead I turn my eyes away. “I can’t do this, Robert.”