I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found(37)

"…and by that time, I didn’t even want it anymore. So I ended up at Brandeis instead, which, you know - it was fine. It was a great experience, and looking back I can’t imagine doing anything different, even if it wasn’t what I thought I wanted at the time." Gen took a sip of her wine and glanced at me briefly, before looking back to Daniel.

"Isn’t it funny," he said, "how things always work out like that?"

"Not always," I said, quietly, but neither one of them had anything to say to that.

Before the entrees came, I actually tried to involve myself in the conversation. And they weren’t - excluding me, exactly, it was just that neither one of them looked at me very often, or responded directly to something I’d said. Mostly, it seemed like I was just talking to myself. So I finally gave up. I focused on my meal when it came, refusing to let myself get upset that the two of them seemed about ready to crawl under the table. After all, we were all responsible adults here. It wasn’t like anything was going to actually…happen.

Because if it started to, I’d stab her with my fork.

I had to snicker at the thought, covering my mouth with my napkin. As if anyone was going to notice.

"What’s so funny?" said Daniel, as if on cue, looking at me for the first time in about twenty minutes.

"Nothing," I said, because that seemed like a better answer than oh, just trying to figure out if you’d be horrified or aroused if me and Gen got into a massive, nail-breaking, hair-pulling fight over you across the table.

Gen glanced at me briefly, then went back to her salad.

I fumed. There was a tiny rational corner of my brain that told me I might just be imagining things, or at least exaggerating them. And even if I wasn’t, so what? Daniel wasn’t really the type to pursue a torrid affair as a married man. At least…I didn’t think so.

But it was that sort of deep-seated, irrational jealousy that’s not necessarily the product of anything you might call "real." I knew nothing was going to happen between them, and I knew most of Gen’s reactions to him were probably subconscious. She wanted him. Who could blame her? But she wasn’t going to get him.

He was mine.

The thought hit me like a ton of bricks, and it left me feeling lightheaded and tingly, in a way that I was pretty sure had nothing to do with the wine I’d been drinking all night. This man, as utterly infuriating and downright heartbreaking as he could be sometimes - was…all mine. Nobody else’s. Nobody else had the right to touch him like I could, or crawl into bed with him at night, or see him the way I saw him. In spite of how well he might close himself off, and in spite of how distant he could be sometimes, I was still privy to a version of Daniel Thorne that no one else got to see.

No one else could watch his face transform when he lost control - his pupils blown wide open, almost swallowing the irises in blackness - his lips parted - the way he’d almost bare his teeth, the little noises - and then afterwards, the smile. The way his whole body would sag, relaxed. That little performance was a privilege that I, and I alone, could enjoy.

I licked my lips, letting my eyes dart from him to her and back to him again. No matter how badly she wanted to see him like that, she never would. And I could see it anytime I wanted. I could see it tonight.

Or now.

I was struck with a wicked idea.

"Excuse me," I said, sweetly, standing up and walking away from the table, briskly. I went down the little hallway that obviously led to the bathrooms, cursing inwardly when I saw that there were no single rooms with locking doors, only a multi-person affair that anyone could walk in or out of, at any time.

This was a fancy restaurant. I had a feeling they wouldn’t take kindly to this sort of thing.

It was in that moment that I almost lost my nerve. But my body was already thrumming and I knew there was no turning back at this point. I stood in the hallway for a second, considering. Despite my eagerness, I’d never actually done this before. I’d never really thought about it in enough detail to figure out the logistics. A man in the women’s bathroom would certainly be more scandalous than a woman in the mens’ bathroom - well, that decided it.

I pushed the door to the mens’ bathroom open, slowly. Peering inside, I quickly scanned the empty-seeming room to make sure we we really would be alone.

For now, at least.

Oh, God - why did that thought send a not-unpleasant shudder through me?

I stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind me. It was pristine - I expected nothing less from a place like this. But still, it was nice to know. I hurried into one of the stalls, shut and locked the door, and briefly considered crouching on the toilet so nobody would notice the obvious women’s feet sticking up under the stall. But couldn’t quite bring myself to act like a fugitive.

I pulled my phone out of my purse and began hastily composing a text message.

I stood in silence for a while, the sound of my own breaths echoing harshly in the room. I took a moment to smooth my hair and blot a little more lipstick on. As if he’d notice. As if he’d care, at a time like this.

The door swung open.

My heart stopped for a split second, and then started beating again like it was trying to escape from my ribcage. I stood stock-still, praying that it was Daniel - praying that if it wasn’t, he’d have the good grace to leave well enough alone.