down to the pier, a singular thought blasting through my brain: MINE.
What a fucking caveman.
I appreciate how unfair I’m being. I’m here with another woman and no explanation, and I fly off the fucking deep end at the sight of her doing the same. I’m not proud. I told her I was sorry, but I’m not sorry. I’m fucking losing my mind, and I am NOT sorry.
Back in the ballroom, Paige catches up to me, holding my arm and leaning into my ear. “Where have you been?” Her eyes meet mine, and we’re back to acting, playing the part of the happy couple in love. God, this has got to end soon.
“Needed some air.” And a hit of Amy Knight, my drug of choice.
“You took off so fast, I didn’t know what to think.”
“Sorry.” Holding her hand, I lead her to the dance floor. “Let’s seal this deal.”
Paige is tight against my body as we sway to the music. I gaze straight into her clear blue eyes, doing my best to demonstrate to all the assholes watching she’s better than her past. She’s as entitled as any trust fund dickwad in the crowd.
If I truly have clout, as too many people seem to believe, I’m focusing it all on accomplishing our mission tonight. We’ll establish her firmly as a member of the privileged class, I’ll lay low for a week or so, then I’ll get back to my primary objective: Claiming the woman I love.
Visions of Amy in my arms swirl through my mind. Her taste lingers on my tongue. The way her cries go quicker, higher, when she comes. The way her body shakes when she comes apart in my hands. She’s the only thing in my mind as I move around the floor. I have to have her.
The song ends, and we move apart, hands sliding down so that our fingers unite. We make our way back toward our table, and I see her standing in the shadows watching. Ice filters through my veins at the confusion and hurt reflected in her eyes, and I want to go to her. Fuck who sees us.
But I don’t have time to act. Karen stands beside the first table we approach. “Paige, what a beautiful dress! I could hardly take my eyes off you just now.”
I’m pretty sure it’s the first time I’ve ever seen Karen smile.
“Thank you.” Paige returns her greeting, and I’m glad to see her old confidence coming back. It’s a good sign that we’re nearing the end.
Roland is behind Karen, and he extends a hand to me. “I’m surprised the sprinkler system didn’t go off just now.” He chortles, and I think of congestive heart failure. “Looks like you scored the fantasy, Merritt.”
“Paige is a classy businesswoman,” I say, giving her an approving smile. “I’m sure I won’t be able to hold her for long.”
Dickerson slaps my back. “Still the confirmed bachelor, I see.”
Dammit, stop letting me off the hook. “Oh, I’d consider changing my ways for Paige.”
“Come, now,” he presses. “I heard you were spending time with Amy Knight just last week.”
God dammit. “That was nothing—a business dinner. Paige is the real deal. She’s one to meet the family.”
The words are passing across my lips as a flash of mint catches my eye. The dark stranger glides up beside us, Amy on his arm. Roland laughs. I tense, bracing to see if she heard me, but she gives no indication. If she did, the game is up, and I’m telling her everything. No way in hell I’ll let her believe what I just said.
“Mr. Dickerson, I’m sorry to interrupt.” The man escorting Amy extends a hand between us. “Armand Rocher, Arny’s Paris.”
“Rocher!” Roland steps forward to hold his elbow as they shake, forcing Amy and I to give way. He’s such a pompous ass.
It leaves us standing facing each other, but she won’t meet my eyes. She looks out to the dance floor, and I want to touch her so badly, it’s almost unbearable. I want to ask her, be sure she didn’t hear what I said. I want to reassure her she’s the one I want. She’s the real deal.
“Whatever are you doing with a man like Armand Rocher?” Karen’s evil voice slices through the awkwardness, and Amy glances up at her.
“We knew each other in Paris,” she says, turning away from Karen’s withering glare.
Sadness replaces the fierce defiance she normally projects, and it twists my chest. Only moments ago I had her in my