grow the fuck up and take responsibility for his own shortcomings.”
Fletcher drops his head.
“Why the hell are you still standing here, Fletcher?” he bellows. “Go and finish the report.”
“See you at home, Mom,” Fletcher says. He turns and scurries from the office, and Tristan goes back to sit behind his desk.
We glare at each other for an extended time.
The air between us is electric—only this time it’s fueled by anger.
“I’m watching you,” I whisper.
“I’ll tell you who to watch: that middle child of yours. The wizard.”
“The middle child of mine is none of your concern,” I sneer.
The nerve of this man. This is exactly why I don’t want him anywhere near my kids; he’s cold and judgmental and lacks any type of empathy.
A fucking asshole.
“Goodbye, Tristan.”
He raises an eyebrow in a silent question.
“What?” I snap.
“Is that it?” He holds the pen in his hand. “Is that all you want to say to me?”
I narrow my eyes. Any minute I’m about to explode.
“I’ve got nothing more to say to you.”
He gives me a sarcastic smile. “Liar.”
Fucking hell. This man makes me thermonuclear. I want to dive over the desk and punch that sarcastic smile off his face.
Before I lose my temper, I turn and storm from the office with my blood boiling in my veins.
I can’t believe I was actually attracted to that jerk.
What a fucking joke.
The television drones on in the background. The children are squabbling among themselves as they sit on the floor doing a jigsaw puzzle. Woofy is chasing Muff around the house, and I’m curled up on the couch, pretending to read.
My mind isn’t here, though.
It’s in Paris . . . with him.
I hate that I’m thinking about such an asshole.
What’s worse is I can pretend that I don’t like him. I can lie to his face about my wants. I can act like being in his arms for six days didn’t mean a thing.
Because if nobody knows my inner fears, then they can’t come true.
I turn the page of my book on autopilot. I haven’t read a word, but the habit of pretending is strong and down to my bones.
I picture the roses that he left me in Épernay and the card that I have safely tucked in my purse.
WE HAVE UNFINISHED BUSINESS.
COME TO PARIS FOR THE WEEKEND.
I exhale heavily. We did the business, fair and square.
Fucked it to hell and back, actually.
So why does it still feel unfinished? I have this haunting feeling that it isn’t over. But then I know it is.
Tristan Miles is lingering in my soul . . . and the bastard won’t leave.
He was supposed to be my get-out-of-grief card, my comeback into society.
What he was, was an intoxicating drug and an addiction that I don’t need.
So now, instead of one man lingering, I have two.
My beautiful husband, Wade, the one I planned a life with . . . the one whose wishes I’m honoring.
And then there’s Tristan, the gorgeous soul-sucking bastard from New York . . . who has a fun, tender side underneath.
But does he really?
Does he have a tender side, or is that just who he pretends to be when he’s alone with a woman? Was that all a plot to get under my guard?
It worked, if it was.
The man I spent time with was beautiful.
I drag my hand down my face. I’m sick of this. Why the hell am I always the one who suffers?
If the truth be known, Tristan is probably in bed with another woman right now.
She’d be blonde and beautiful and would be able to be spontaneous and fun.
“Give it back,” Harry snaps, interrupting my thoughts as he snatches a puzzle piece from Fletcher.
I look around at my chaotic surroundings, and I know that Tristan doesn’t belong here in my world. He will never belong here. This is as far from his reality as he could possibly be.
My stomach twists at the thought.
I get a vision of the two of us rolling around in the sheets, laughing and making love.
The tenderness between us felt so real and intimate.
Did it mean anything to him at all?
I turn the page of my book . . . obviously not.
“I think that just about wraps it up,” Michael, our lead accountant, says as he looks up from his spreadsheets.
I smile, optimistic for the first time in a while. “That’s great; thank you.”
“As long as we keep gaining traction on the advertising, we should be able to pull out of this.”
“I agree.” I look around at the board members.