The VIP Room(56)

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he told me.

I gave a short laugh, but it came out more nervous than incredulous.

“You loved every second of what we did on Saturday night. You liked me well enough then.”

I realized that he’d stepped closer and I pushed him away angrily. “That was before you completely humiliated me!”

He snagged both of my wrists in a tight grip and brought me closer. He was no longer smiling. “You told me all you wanted was one night, Noelle,” he growled quietly. “That’s all I can give, okay? And I did!”

“You didn’t give me one night, you bastard,” I shot back. “More like five minutes!”

He laughed, but it was dark, sarcastic. His eyes flashed dangerously. “Five minutes, huh?”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t all that gre—“

He slammed his mouth down over mine.

I struggled for all of two seconds, embarrassingly enough, and then I was clutching his shirt with tight fists. Our kiss started out angry, furious, punishing. But whether we were trying to punish one another or ourselves, I didn’t know. Our teeth clicked together and our tongues dueled, stoking embers that had been burning since Saturday night. Tristan gripped the sides of my face, bringing me closer, encouraging me. It seemed the only way we knew how to communicate was through our bodies.

Then the kiss changed. Tristan slowed it down, nibbling on my bottom lip, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs to soothe me. I gave a soft moan and I felt his smile against me. I found myself relaxing into him, forgetting that I was supposed to be angry and hurt.

Tristan pulled back slightly. He gazed down at me and that same odd expression from Saturday night stole over his face. The one that told me I’d caught him. Ensnared him.

“There,” he whispered. I felt his warm breath dance over my cheek. “This is you. This is you with that wall down. And you’re beautiful. So goddamn beautiful, Noelle.”

I broke away from him, taking a few wobbly steps back as I tried to regain my breath. My notebook and pen were on the ground and I bent down to retrieve them, fumbling with my pen since my hands were shaking.

“Noelle…” Tristan started, running a hand through his hair, his shirt rumpled from my fists.

“Don’t,” I whispered, holding out a hand when he started to follow me. “Please, Tristan, just…don’t.”

I turned around and left his office, hearing the click of the door behind me. I didn’t pay any attention to his secretary but I could only imagine how I looked in her eyes, hair mussed and clothes wrinkled.

I went into Tristan’s office feeling confident that he wouldn’t be able to affect me. But in less than ten minutes, I came out feeling more confused than ever.

And his words kept running around and around in my head.

This is you. This is you. This is you.





Chapter 10





I received a call later that night from an unknown number. Pausing the rom-com movie I’d rented on the way home, I answered after a healthy swallow of red wine.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

It was Tristan. There was no mistaking that beautiful, velvety voice.

I sat up, my blanket falling from my shoulders. “How’d you get my number?”

“From your firm. I might’ve implied that I had last minute ideas for your design of my office and that it was imperative that I reach you as soon as possible.”

I sighed. Of course. “What do you want, Tristan?”

“I want to see you. Right now.”

“What?” I asked in disbelief, pushing up from the couch. “It’s…late.”

Even the excuse sounded lame to my own ears. When I looked at the clock, it was only twenty past eight.

“I know. But I just…I need to see you. I promise that I’ll leave you with your virtue in tact,” he joked, a strange mixture of humor and seriousness in his tone. It was his tone that made me pause. It was almost…vulnerable. And that was beyond odd coming from a man like Tristan.

“O-okay,” I murmured, flushing when I stumbled over the word. “Um, where should I meet you?”

“I’ll come over to you, if that’s not a problem.”

My eyes immediately flashed around my living room. Then I catalogued the rooms he might see if he were to come over—kitchen, bathroom…bedroom?—and wondered whether they were clean enough for company.

“Um…”

“What’s your address?”

“Tristan, I…” I trailed off. What could I say? With a sigh and a look down at my leggings and ratty t-shirt, I gave him my address. “When will you be here?”

“Give me about fifteen minutes.”

“Alright,” I whispered.

“See you soon, sweetheart,” he murmured before hanging up. I stared down at the phone in my hand with disbelief. I wondered briefly if the past five minutes had just happened. And I wondered what was so important that he needed to see me now.

I immediately raced down the hall towards my bedroom, searching for clothes more suitable than the ones I’d planned to go to bed in. I tugged on some jeans and picked out a simple yet flattering mint green t-shirt that I’d neatly folded in my drawers.