Twisted Love (Modern Romance #3) - Piper Lawson Page 0,60
Daisy.
“But you are.” It’s a statement, but it almost sounds as if there’s a question in it.
“Yes.” I rub a hand through my hair. “I’ve been busy with other things. And I’m going to see Mom with D tonight.” At his look, I say, “What?”
Tris grins. “When I saw you together at the club, I wasn’t sure. But you’ve been different the last couple of weeks. I see it, Xavier sees it, even Holt sees it. Because that brain of yours is elsewhere and it doesn’t take a genius to know where.”
I raise a brow. “Excuse me?”
“You two together. She wants to climb into your lap. You want to drag her somewhere private and defile her. You’re falling for her.”
The words have the hairs lifting on my neck. I remind myself that’s precisely the impression we’re going for. What we want to present to the world for the final twelve days of our arrangement.
Not that I’m counting.
“She’s the real deal,” he goes on. “You won’t be a shark anymore, but if you’re going to lose your heart, might as well be to her.”
When I head back to my office, I pull out the photographer’s image of Daisy and me. The one where she’s looking at me as if I’m her entire fucking world.
My face is only half visible, but it’s entirely possible I’m studying her the same way.
You won’t be a shark anymore.
That’s bullshit. I’m not losing my edge.
I’ve seen my mom get taken advantage of, seen how crippling it was for her to want someone that badly, to allow herself to be used. I will never be that kind of fool. I can’t work my entire life only to wind up weak.
I vow to refocus on my work, leave no doubt in anyone’s mind that I’m the future of this firm. So the rest of the day, I throw myself into reviewing performance analysis of current holdings by our associates, scanning competition, reading submissions for fascinating new tech.
I don’t race out of the office to pick up Daisy. But once I get my car, and her, the simple joy of seeing her has my abs tightening. She’s wearing a devastating cherry red dress that hugs her curves and makes me want to do wicked things to her.
“There’s a technology therapy service that uses AI to diagnose issues and recommend cognitive behavioral therapy,” she’s saying when I ask about her day on the way to Jersey.
“Robot shrinks?”
“Most people resist it, which is what we’re talking about with them.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No, you’re not.” She smiles, and I linger on her mouth before turning back to the road. “How was your work?”
“I can’t do much else to try to secure Xavier’s support. But Holt’s trying to undermine me.”
“What’s the latest target of his attacks?”
“You.”
She glances my way.
“He knows he can get under my skin.”
Daisy shifts as if she’s about to reach for me but stops at the last minute. “Don’t let him.”
I don’t answer for a long time.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I say at last as we’re crossing the bridge.
“I’m glad you asked me.”
When we pull up outside the facility, Daisy shifts out, her heels clicking on the concrete. I take a second to watch her, her hips swinging as she starts up the walkway with a kind of easy energy I can’t summon when I come to this place.
She looks back when she realizes I’m not at her side. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I take her hand, reminding myself I’m looking the part of the dutiful boyfriend and son and not focusing on how soft her skin is on mine.
“You don’t have to be. Not with me.”
Her calm words have my gaze finding hers again.
The problem is, the better we get at acting, the less it feels fake.
She’s beautiful, and in this moment with no one watching, it’s not even about sex. I want to crawl inside her, have her crawl inside me.
I brush the hair out of her face and rest my forehead against hers a moment before pulling back and starting toward the doors, our hands still linked.
We go to my mom’s room, and she welcomes us with a look of delighted surprise. “Daisy, it’s so good to see you.”
“You too, Ramona. It’s been a while.”
“MBA graduation,” I say.
“No,” Daisy and my mom say at once.
“We all went to that fundraiser at the Met,” Daisy adds.
“You remember everything,” I tease her.
The smile wavers. “Too much sometimes.” Daisy turns back to my mom. “Love that pantsuit.”