Beautiful Secret (Beautiful Bastard #4) (12 page)

Will groaned. “Get a room, would you?”

Chloe kissed her husband once more before she turned her attention to us. “You’re just jealous because your fiancée is sitting with a bunch of women talking about books, instead of here, gazing adoringly at
you.”

“When you put it that way . . . yes, I am,” Will said. “Why aren’t you with them, again?”

Chloe ordered a drink from a passing waitress and took a seat at our table. “Because this is my only free night this week, and I intend to spend it banging my husband. Speaking of”—she looked at Bennett commandingly—“finish your drink.”

Bennett lifted his glass. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Gross,” George said.

“George,” Chloe said, greeting him with a smile.

“Dark Mistress,” he replied.

“And you must be Niall?” she said, turning her attention to me.

“Yes,” I said, and offered my hand. “Lovely to meet you.”

Chloe returned my handshake with a firm grip. “You, too. Where’s the girl?”

“Girl?” I asked, looking at each of them.

Chloe smiled, and I had to admit the effect was quite stunning—if somewhat frightening. I could only imagine the terror this woman could inflict on a poor soul when she put her mind to it.

“I assume she’s talking about your Ruby,” Max said.

“She is not
my
Ruby,” I corrected.

“Sure she isn’t,” Chloe said. “That’s what they all say.”

As I was busy choking on a bite of truffled Tater Tot, the realization settled in. I’d nearly
kissed
her at
work
. “Right, you all settled this the other night.”

“Course we did,” George continued. “You’re the only one who was confused. You turn into a robot around her—”

“To be fair, he’s always a bit of a robot,” Max cut in.

“Cheers, mate,” I mumbled sarcastically. “Funny how I’m the only one here who seemed to be in the dark about it.”

Chloe’s drink had arrived, and she lifted the stemmed glass. “That’s because men are idiots,” she said over the rim. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, women can be jackasses, too, and are every bit as capable of messing things up as men. But in my experience, when these things go wrong, it’s usually the one with the penis who’s fucked it up.” She looked at me with her amused certainty for a moment before adding, “No offense.”

“Well said,” Max told her with a laugh.

They studied me for a few seconds longer before turning back to each other, picking up where they’d apparently left off when I joined them. All except for Chloe, who continued to eye me.

“You never said why you and the girls can’t come to the Catskills this weekend,” Bennett said to Max.

“Sara’s remodeling the entire flat,” Max said, running his palm over the top of his head. “Her designer is coming. I think walls are coming down and . . .
oi
.”

“Max, you’d better get a handle on that,” Bennett said in warning. “Do you remember when Chloe painted the apartment? A kid with a crayon would have done a better job.”

“Watch it, Mills,” she warned.

“Don’t you start with that,
Ryan
,” he said back. I was completely confused. “The green kitchen? Even you have to admit how terrible that was.”

“I will not. It was process of elimination; maybe I needed to try out a few before I knew what I really wanted,” she said, smiling sweetly at him. It was pretty clear they weren’t talking about paint colors.

George was already waving a finger at them both. “No, no, no, don’t you bring your foreplay to this table.”

“This remodeling with Sara is a very . . .” Max continued carefully, never one to criticize his wife. “A very
ongoing
situation.”

“Delicate,” Will added.

Laughing, my brother murmured, “A touch.”

The waiter placed my pint on the table and asked if we needed anything more. I went ahead and ordered a second—best to be prepared, after all. The waiter looked at each of us and then, satisfied we were done, turned to leave.

Will leaned in as a strange hush overtook the table. “
George
. What about him? He’s cute . . . right?”

“No!” George hissed. “That would be like fucking beef jerky.”

“Good God,” Bennett muttered, wiping his palm down his face. “No one is even talking about fucking. It’s
one
party.”

“Wait,” Will said, shaking his head. “George, you’re a
top
?”

Groaning, Max said, “For the love of God, William, stop
talking.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. “What is happening here?”

George ignored all of us. “Seriously, he’s pickled! He’s so tan I bet it’s reached his liver.”

“I need someone to explain what is happening,” I repeated.

“These two are idiots,” Chloe told me. “George needs to find a date to an RMG party, Will here is suggesting he ask our waiter. Obviously George is suggesting he’s not a suitable candidate.”

“Sorry, ‘RMG’?” I asked.

“Ryan Media Group,” George said. “Bennett decided to throw a soirée, and here I am, dateless. These boys are trying to help. It’s embarrassing to all of us. I’d really rather talk about what you’re going to do about Ruby.”

I knew we would circle back to this. In fact, part of me needed to talk about it . . . oddly. I’d barely needed to talk about my divorce, but this had me twisted in unfamiliar ways.

“I . . .” I stared down into my pint. “I don’t actually know.”

Silence fell over the table. Finally, I admitted, “She told me she has feelings for me. In fact,” I said, looking up, “she’s had them for quite some time.”

“One look at her and I knew that,” Bennett said.

“Same,” George offered.

“Ditto,” said Will.

Max was the last to chime in. “I don’t really need to say anything, now do I?”

“We nearly kissed today in the office,” I blurted, and for some reason every head whipped over to Bennett, who displayed his middle finger in a wide arc around the table. “Suffice to say it’s all moving a bit fast for me. I’ve only, well, we’ve worked together for months but I’ve only
known
her a matter of days.”

“So what
are
you going to do?” Chloe said.

“Well, I . . .” I started, and she continued to blink at me like I must be dense. “Like I said, I—”

“She told you she has feelings. You almost kissed. You said it’s all moving a bit fast, so I’m guessing that’s why you’re here and she’s not.”

“Yes,” I told her.

“So either you’re interested, or you’re not.”

“It isn’t that simple,” I said. “We work together.”

Chloe waved her hand. “None of that matters.” When everyone gaped at her, she said, “What? It doesn’t! Obviously I don’t know all the details, but from what I hear, she’s a pretty, smart girl, and eventually she’ll be noticed by someone a lot smarter than you. Don’t be an idiot.”

I laughed, taking a sip of my drink. “Cheers.”

“As usual, Chloe cuts right to the chase.” My brother put a gentle hand on my arm. “Just call her. See if she wants to come down and join us?”

Nodding, I stood and walked over to a quiet area of the bar, dialing her mobile.

As it rang, it occurred to me that I’d never called her.

That we hadn’t made plans for tonight.

That she might have made plans, and maybe Chloe was right and someone smarter
had
noticed.

“Hello?”

I startled, having somehow talked myself out of the possibility of her answering. Inside, I was an enormous knot.

“Hello?” A pause. “Mr. Stella?”

I shivered at the sound of her voice. “Ruby. Call me Niall, yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Would you care to come down for a bite to eat?”

She hesitated on the other end, for what felt like an eternity.

“Unless you have a . . .” I paused, fumbling for words. “That is to say, an agent . . . of . . . pleasure in your room.”

Oh dear God—what did I just say?

“An
agent of pleasure
?” she asked, and I could hear the restrained laughter in her voice, as well as the gentle slur of alcohol.

I groaned quietly. “I mean company. Or plans. Ruby, I don’t mean to presume. I don’t even know if you’re—”

She cut me off with a quiet laugh. “It’s almost midnight. I’m alone up here, I promise. But I just got out of the tub, I’ve had a cocktail or two, and ordered room service.”

My brain tripped over the image of Ruby in the tub. Naked. Tipsy. Wet. Warm, soft skin. Muscles lax.

“Ah. Well, right.”

Ruby paused again. “I mean, I suppose I could . . .” Her words fell away.

“No, Ruby, I don’t mean to . . . I just wanted to make sure you’d eaten. It was a long day. And we . . .” I closed my eyes, murmuring, “We . . . rather,
I
fear you’re out of sorts.”

I could hear her breathing, so quick and shallow. I felt a tight pinch in my chest at the thought that she was anxious again, suffering in some way over me, or this. I knew I had the ability to do something for her . . . I simply didn’t know how to start.

“I’m okay, I promise. Thank you.”

We sat on the line for several long, wordless seconds. “Right, then. Good night, Ruby.”

“Good night . . . Mr. Stella.”

Returning to the table, I took my seat and lifted my second pint to my lips. I felt worse than I had before; I was bloody awful on the phone, which was saying something given that I was often awkward in person as well. When Max wordlessly asked whether Ruby would be joining us—with a small lift of his brow, an expectant expression—I shook my head. I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or gutted that she wasn’t coming down. And then I settled on relieved, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep from moving to her, wishing for her hand on my leg, wanting to meet her eyes and see that the same longing was still there, and I would be shite at simply asking for it.

Bloody hell
.

Bennett and Chloe had left, chased off by George, who said he’d rather light himself on fire than watch the two of them make out. I ordered a gin and tonic, then another, contributing to the conversation before eventually becoming lost in my own jumbled thoughts. I went from tangled, to calm, to tipsy, finally convincing myself it was a good idea, at one in the bloody morning, to go upstairs and see her.

“Where you headed?” Max asked. “This is my one night a month out. No sodding way you’re cutting out early.”

“Meetings all day tomorrow, mate. G’night.”

I ignored their catcalls and continued on to the elevator, to the tenth floor, to the door that led to her room.

My knuckles landed heavily on the wood; Jesus, even my knock sounded drunk.

After a few tense seconds, the door opened and Ruby stood before me in a tiny pink silk tank top and matching shorts that barely covered her—

Dear God
.

She weaved slightly against the door. “Everything okay, Mr. Stella?”

I cleared my throat once, and then again. “Bloody hell. Do you always sleep in that?”

“Yes . . .” she said, and I could hear her smile when she added, “unless there is
an agent of pleasure
in here with me.”

Finally I could tear my eyes from the sight of her breasts, bare beneath the camisole. “You love to tease me.”

Her tongue slipped out, wetting her
lips. “Yeah.”

I stood at the doorway, feeling like I must be looking at her the way a man would look at a woman he desired if he hadn’t had dinner, or sleep, or masturbated in days.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked. “I’ll warn you. I’ve had a few cocktails. But I do have a few items left unclaimed in the minibar if you like Midori or Jägermeister.”

“I shouldn’t touch you,” I blurted and immediately squeezed my eyes closed. “Sorry. I’ve been drinking as well, and . . .” Opening my eyes, I looked at her face. She was smiling, looking . . .
relieved
. “I don’t know why I’m here. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened today, and how much I wanted to see you. But I really shouldn’t touch you, Ruby.”

I could see her pulse in her neck. I could tell that she was
trembling
.

“You
shouldn’t
?” she asked. “Or you don’t want to?”

Without answering and without really thinking about what I was doing, I stepped forward, moving into her room. She took a step back, letting the door close behind me. The thud reverberated in the quiet.

“Is it really true what you said earlier?” I asked. “You think about this? With me?”

She flushed, from her neck to her cheeks, but still managed to sound brave when she said, “Yeah.”

She’d stopped moving but I hadn’t. I kept drifting forward until I was barely an inch away from her. In fact, I could feel her breath on my neck. Could smell the sweetness of orange juice, the sharp tang of vodka on her
lips.

This is stupid, Niall. Get the hell out of this room
.

“What do you think about?” I asked.

“Having you in my hotel room.” She smiled, looking at my lips. “As an agent of pleasure.”

Laughing a little, I ran my hand down my face, admitting, “These past few days . . . I think about it, too. You’ve hijacked my brain.”

“Is that bad?”

I looked down at her. She looked nervous but also confident; I was here in her room; she’d regained at least some of the power between us. “No, it’s not a bad thing. I’m just not sure I know what to do with you.” I had no idea why I said this, but it didn’t seem to trip her up in the slightest.

“We’d figure it out together.”

Meeting her eyes, I asked, “Would we?”

Ruby nodded, reaching out and putting her hand on my chest. “I understand you. I think you understand me, too.”

I swallowed, at a loss for words.

“I’d tell you what I like,” she whispered. “You’d tell me what you need.”

She ran her hand down my chest, over my stomach, and then—just before she reached my belt—she let it fall away.

I should leave. I should go to my room and let us both sleep it off
.

Looking up at me, she asked, “What
do
you need?”

“This,” I said. “The odd certainty I feel when I’m this close to you. The way you look
at me.”