Dirty Rogue: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance(43)
“I don’t know. We might come back here. He might be busy. Why?”
“Just—be careful, Quinn. He seems different.”
“Different how?”
Carolyn shrugged. “Just—not like himself.”
At first I felt a flash of anger directed toward my roommate, but the concern in her eyes was genuine. She’s known Christian a lot longer than I have.
“Is it something specific?”
Carolyn shook her head. “If I think of what it is, I’ll let you know.” Then she brightened up. “It could just be that he’s in love with you, and it’s making him grow up.”
“I hope that’s it and it’s nothing serious!” I said, grabbing my purse from the hook in the entryway. “You had me a little worried there. If you think of what it is, though, let me know, okay?”
“I will. Have a good day, Q.”
Christian finishes shaking hands with a school board member and crosses back across the room to me, a hint of lust hiding behind his polite smile.
“We should get out of here,” he says to me quietly. We’re both standing up straight, not too close to one another, playing the part of coworkers, colleagues, definitely not a couple.
“Don’t even. This is a really excellent opportunity. Tons of positive press for Pierce Industries.” Jesus, it takes work to stay professional when he wants to escape.
“I think we both know that positive press is nothing compared to pressing—”
Just then, a booming voice interrupts Christian’s naughty comment.
“Pierce!”
We both turn to face a tall man in a dark suit that’s tailored perfectly to his towering frame. His freckled face is set off by reddish hair, and he’s beaming as he comes in at high speed.
“Matthews!” Christian cries, the very picture of his loud, party-boy self. The two men shake hands, then pound on each other’s shoulders.
“How have you been, man?”
Christian holds the guy at arm’s length and looks him up and down. “Great, Matthews. Great. Where the hell have you been all this time?”
“L.A.,” Matthews says, his deep voice rumbling above the chatter of the crowd. “I’m only in town for a month or so—overseeing some new ventures, if you know what I mean.”
Christian obviously does know what he means, because he gives Matthews a sage nod.
“Elijah Pierce. What a damn crazy coincidence to run into you here.” My heart stops, but this Matthews guy barrels on. “I’d have thought you’d be some high-class professor by now, or maybe own your own building on campus.” Then he pauses and glances around. “Is Chris here anywhere? You guys still go everywhere together, or did he move on?”
Christian’s face is white as a ghost, his smile frozen. The corner of his lip jerks and the smile drops away.
Matthews sees it.
“Shit, man. What’d I say?”
Christian sucks in a breath, tries to force another smile onto his face, and almost succeeds. “I hate to have to tell you this, but Eli—he died about ten years ago.”
“Oh, f*ck,” Matthews says, then cups his hands over his mouth. “I’m so sorry. You guys look—you guys looked so damn identical.” His face flames red. “I had no idea. That must have happened after—”
Christian holds both hands up, waving Matthews’ embarrassment away. “Way after you left Dalton.”
Matthews is still shaking his head, a hand over his head. “That’s terrible. I don’t know what to say, Chris.”
Christian reaches out and pats his buddy’s shoulder in a show of empathy, a genuine smile now back on his face. “No way for you to know, buddy. Listen—give me your number, and we’ll meet up again before you leave for L.A. I want to hear all about whatever it is you’re wasting your time on over there.”
Matthews laughs, his relief palpable, and the two men exchange numbers.
The instant Matthews has receded back into the crowd, Christian spins on his heel to face me, his face wretched with pain.
“That’s enough for now.”
“Yes,” I say gently. “Enough.”
“Let’s go back to my penthouse.”
Chapter 34
Christian
I can’t f*cking believe what just happened.
Who the hell would have expected to run into a guy like Greg Matthews at a fundraiser for New York City afterschool shit? Not me. I haven’t seen him since the beginning of high school, when his father moved their entire family overseas to start a multinational corporation. He was gone well before my brother died.
On top of that, I can’t believe how much this is affecting me.
Hearing those words come out of his mouth has put me into a tailspin, and the fancy food and cocktails served so generously at the beginning of the fundraiser churn in my stomach.
I turn back to face Quinn. She is standing stock-still, her facial expression and posture conveying sympathy.
“That’s enough for now.”
She can clearly sense how this is non-negotiable because she agrees with me in a soothing tone. “Yes. Enough.”
I haven’t planned anything for the evening. This week has been packed to the f*cking gills, and it’s been easier just to meet her at her place where there’s not a minefield of my personal items to distract us. I told Quinn at the Cottage that I would take her to my penthouse whenever she wanted, but she hasn’t brought it up since we came back to the city.