Twisted Love (Modern Romance #3) - Piper Lawson Page 0,67
doesn’t look like a client. He’s flirting with her. And she’s smiling at him.
I force myself to open the door, and her gaze shifts to find me. The man turns to follow her attention. He’s tall, dressed in an expensively cut suit.
I head straight for them.
“Marc,” she says, and time slows down.
Marc.
“This is Ben,” she goes on, hesitating. “A friend.”
A sickening thought occurs to me. Is she thinking of going back to Wall Street once we’ve ended our arrangement?
Her phone rings and she glances down with a smile of apology. “Excuse me,” she says to one or both of us, “I have to grab this.”
She turns for her office, shooting me a wary “behave” look.
“Ben of the flowers,” Marc says once she’s gone, nodding toward the card in the huge arrangement engulfing the table.
He might be a prick, but he’s observant. Point, Marc.
“That’s a very friendly gift.”
Passive aggressive. Minus one.
“Daisy and I are very friendly.” My tone is the same one I use when dealing with an adversary in the boardroom. “How do you know one another?”
“We met at an event. We’ve been trying to find a time to go out.”
Not were trying, like past tense. We’ve been trying, like he’s still planning on it.
“You?” Marc asks.
“Known her since college. We’ve been close ever since.”
“I look forward to getting to know her better.”
“She’s a busy woman.”
“She’s worth it, and I’m persistent.” He grins, and my hand clenches into a fist.
I hate that he thinks she’s worth it. Not because she isn’t, but because he doesn’t get to have an opinion on that. “Let me get the door for you.”
“Did I say I was ready to leave?”
I hit the elevator button. “Nice meeting you, Marc.”
When he leaves, I barge into her office and wait for her to hang up her call.
“We agreed not to see other people during our arrangement,” I say once she clicks off, before she can speak.
Strange how five minutes ago, I was feeling confused and now, it’s all collapsed to a fine point of anger and indignation.
“I’m not seeing him.”
“But you told him we were friends so you can dump me one day and pick up with him the next.”
She tilts her head, clearly turning something over in her mind. “We didn’t talk about who’s dumping who. I guess when we agreed, I assumed it would be mutual.”
It doesn’t fucking feel mutual. We’re not dating, but I’m furious.
I know we’re in her workplace and she’s being professional and everyone can see us through these glass walls, but I don’t care. I want her to know Marc could have a thousand years with her, but he can’t give her what I can.
Can’t be what she needs.
I cross to her, force her to look up at me. “Tonight.”
Daisy sets her hands on her hips, oblivious or resistant to my intensity. “Tonight what?”
“Tonight, you’re mine. My place. Eight o’clock.”
“It’s game night.”
“Change of plans."
She arches a brow. "What would you like me to wear?"
It's not a genuine question. It's a taunting reminder I'm being a dick.
I ignore it. "Something that matches the hardwood in my living room. Because your clothes will be spending more time on it than on you.”
Back at the office, I commandeer a couple of associates to try to do some remediation on the potential lawsuit—making some calls, tracking down paperwork, files, timestamps, anything—that would refute the claim.
“I hope you have plans with the gym tonight. You look like a bear,” Tris comments on his way out of the office.
I don’t answer. Instead, I head home, shower. My hair’s still wet as I stare into the mirror. I’m not a jealous guy, but I look as if I’ve been worked over.
Today pushed me past my breaking point. My need to prove I’m not falling for her flew out the window the second I realized she wasn’t as in this as I thought.
I pull on jeans and a V-neck sweater, stopping next to my king-sized bed.
Now, the fact that Daisy’s my best friend doesn’t seem like enough to bind her to me. I want to tie her to the damn bed, give her everything she wants if it’ll make her stay.
The sound of the door has me turning.
Daisy’s standing straight and tall in my foyer. She didn’t knock, didn’t ask permission. Just used the key she’s always had to walk into my life.
Unlike every other woman, I’ve let her in.
“You changed.” I take in her trench coat and heels, long legs.