A Different Blue(142)

couldn't get his words out of my head. They blinked in neon, buzzing continuously in my brain.

I had been congratulated, praised, even adored that night. But it was Wilson's words that filled

my head. The Bei Jing Mogul whose name I couldn't seem to remember had commissioned five

separate pieces and had presented me with a check for $5,000. I would receive another check for

the same amount when the carvings were completed, and The Sheffied was letting me take the full

commission. The night had been a success that I could build a future on. A success I hadn't even

dared dream of. But my heart ached in my chest, and I had felt sick to my stomach all night

because of Wilson.

He stood as I unlocked the front door. I dropped the keys into my purse and headed for my

apartment, not acknowledging him. I had driven around town for hours after leaving the exhibit.

For the first time since moving in, I hadn't wanted to go home to Pemberley.

“Blue.”

I had to dig the keys back out again at my door. Smooth. My hands shook, and I sneered down at

them. I would not shake! I would not show him weakness.

“Blue.” It was just a whisper, and I flinched against the quivering in my limbs, the

shattering of my heart. And then he was next to me, his head bent over mine. I kept my head

bowed, staring at the lock on my door.

“I was worried about you.”

“Why?” I responded quietly. The key slid into the lock, and I turned the knob gratefully.

“Didn't Tiffa tell you? I was the high-priced call girl for the event. They hired me to keep

Mr. Ying Yang happy.” I batted my eyelashes at him, not really looking at him as I shoved the

door open and walked into the narrow entryway of my apartment.

Wilson jerked like I'd shot him. And then he was crowding me up against the wall, slamming the

door behind us so hard the picture of me and Jimmy teetered and fell, crashing to the floor.

Wilson's hands bracketed my head, and he leaned into me, his lips trembling.

“Stop. Stop that. It isn't funny, Blue. It's sick. It makes me want to hunt down Mr. Bloody

Chen, whatever the hell his name is –”

“Isn't that what you thought when I left tonight?” I interrupted. “That I was on the prowl?”

“Why didn't you tell me?” he choked out in disbelief. “I was so bloody proud. It was

brilliant. All of it. And you didn't tell me. You let me go on like a complete arsehole.”

“I let you? I got all dressed up and you . . . you insulted me and implied I looked like a . .

. wh-whore.” I pushed against him, shoved him angrily, needing to breathe, not wanting to break

down in front of him. But he didn't back off, instead his hands dropped to frame my face,

forcing my gaze to his. I looked away immediately, defiantly.

“I was afraid.” I watched his mouth and tried to focus on what he'd said to me earlier. I

reminded myself of his revulsion, his disdain. But his lips were so close. He was so close. His

breath smelled sweet, and I felt a shuddering deep in my belly.

“I was afraid, Blue,” he repeated, insistent. “You've been through so much. And I am half mad

over you. I don't think you are ready for the way I feel.”

My heart thudded to a standstill, and my breath hitched. And then . . . his lips brushed mine.

Slowly, tenderly. Barely there. He spoke again, his words tickling my mouth. I gripped the back