Being Me(Inside Out 02)(68)
I revel in how he touches me often, each brush of his hand adding warmth to my soul, where he has found a place and taken
root. And when our eyes meet, awareness sizzles through me that
that has nothing to do with the never-ending friction created by
the rubies, and everything to do with our deepening bond. I am
happy, and that isn’t something I remember being much in my
adult life. Happy never lasts but I plan to fight for it this time.
I spot the waitstaff preparing a table filled with a variety
of coffee and chocolate concoctions with whipped cream, and
while I am dragging Chris in that direction, he is accosted by
an excited, sixty-something fan. Seems she has a paintbrush he’d
autographed at another event and she wants another for her son.
“I’ll be at the chocolate,” I tell him. I kiss his cheek, whisper—
ing, “Next to you, it’s my favorite temptation.”
He whispers something in French and I have no doubt it’s
naughty. I bite my lip at just how sexy it sounds.
I’m still smiling inside over the exchange when I am handed
a mocha with whipped cream on top. I move to a small round
standing table and scoop up a spoonful. It’s delicious, like my
flirtation with Chris. I’m amazed at how comfortably me I am
with him.
“Hello, Sara.”
I freeze with a second spoonful of sweet cream in my mouth,
and my eyes are locked on the tuxedo directly in front of me, on
the familiar hand now resting on the white tablecloth. On the
familiar voice that might as well be acid burning a path down my
spine. It can’t be. He can’t be here. It’s been two years of silence, since I threatened a restraining order. Two years I thought would be forever.
Slowly, I set down my spoon on the saucer and curse the
tremble of my hand I know he will see. He is a manipulator, a
user. A bastard I never wanted to see again but I am not the girl
I was five years ago or even two years ago. I will not cower.
Steeling myself for the impact, I lift my gaze, but I do not see
the man whom most see as personifying tall, dark, and handsome.
Nor do I feel the striking impact of his crystal blue stare the way others do, the way I once did. I see nothing but the monster I discovered the last time we saw each other.
“Michael.” I hate how his name rasps out of my mouth, how
my throat tightens uncomfortably. How I am letting him have an
impact on me. I feel a moment of panic, a sense of the ground
falling out from under my feet. No. This isn’t when or how Chris
was supposed to learn about my past. He has too much on his
shoulders this weekend to carry my load, too. Which is why I
cannot crumble. I won’t. I will be strong.
My fingers curl into my palms. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw your picture in the paper, and needed to take a trip
to our research facility in Silicon Valley anyway. Your father and I thought it was a perfect opportunity to contribute to a good cause and catch up with you at the same time.”
My father—who has not made one single attempt, with
all the resources he possesses, to contact me in five years. Who
wasn’t even at the event to honor my mother, and where I last
saw Michael. I hate how much his actions still twist me into
knots. I hate how much I ridiculously yearn for a parent who
never gave a damn about me, who never gave a damn about my
mother, who loved him with all of her heart.
My lips tighten. “We both know my father didn’t send you
here.”
“Actually, he did. See, we keep tabs on you, Sara. We always
have. That means we keep tabs on the people you include in
your life. Which brings me to the here and now and your recent
choice in companions.”
Heat floods my face and my heart races wildly. “What does
that mean?”
“It means that Chris Merit has some interesting diversions, don’t you think?”
My heart explodes in my chest. Chris. He’s using Chris
against me. He knows about the club. That has to be what he
means. This can’t be happening. It can’t be happening.
He continues, “We’d hoped you’d realize his destructive nature and walk away, but now that you’re going public with him,
getting your picture snapped and slapped in the newspapers, we
can’t stay out of what could be damaging to you and us.”
“Us?” I demand. “You’re not a part of any ‘us’ I am a part of.”
“Wrong again. See, as your father’s new VP, what hurts him
hurts me, and vice versa. And I’m quite certain a children’s charity would be more than a little disturbed by Chris’s interests.