Manwhore +1 (Manwhore, #2)(85)
I cry freely now. “I love you, Malcolm.”
“Do you really?”
“Yes, really.”
He frames my jaw in wide, warm hands, tilting me to his line of sight as he dries my face. “The first time I heard it, I couldn’t think of anything else. Even when all the shit came down, I’d think of those three words. I’ve loved you for a while, Rachel. All the fortune I’ve amassed and I’d never wanted to lay it out there for someone the way I want to lay it out there for you.
“You wanted your world to go still, stand still with me. I may be thirsty, ambitious; I’ll charge out there, but this . . . what we have. Let’s stand still here, you and me.”
My throat closes when I remember what I told him before. I’ve never been held like this by anyone else. I’ve never had a man’s arms around me in comfort, making me feel so utterly safe. I never imagined that I could stand in the middle of the storm that is Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint, and truly feel like my world is finally becoming still.
His smile.
His. Damn. Smile.
I forget its effect on me.
My stomach is in a wild swirl.
“Malcolm,” breathlessly, I stare. “You’d do this for me?”
“I’d do more.”
A silence full of meaning falls between us. I want to say so many things but I can’t find my precious words. His actions won over this time, for real.
“I love you, Malcolm.”
“And I love you, Rachel. Very much.”
My throat closes. “Hold me for a hot second.”
He already is holding me as he whispers, “I’ll hold you for four.” Then, in my ear, he adds gruffly, “Go home and think about this—”
“Yes,” I cut him off, and this time it’s me who grabs him by the collar and kisses the f*ck out of him.
“I’ve got to get back to work. Let me take you to dinner?” he asks me.
“I’ve used up all my no’s with you,” I say quietly, kissing him as I speak.
He kisses me as he speaks too, voice husky with male pride. “So it’s another yes.”
“Definitely.”
“Not good enough, Rachel. Say it.”
I laugh. “Yes, greedy man. You freaking woman-wizard. Yes, yes yes!”
That evening I call my ex-coworkers and tell them if they’re leaving Edge—I want them with me. I’m having lunch with a few of them next week, including Valentine and Sandy. Then I talk to Gina and we call Wynn.
“Rachel!” is all Wynn can say. “I’m . . .”
“Speechless, I know. This dude leaves me speechless all the f*cking time now,” Gina jumps in to say.
I sit here speechless too, or rather wordless, feeling warm and fuzzier than my socks. They’re both getting hung up on the fact that he’s supporting me and my dreams. I’m hung up on the fact that—despite his upbringing, loving his variety in women and business ventures, and the fact that it seemed fairly impossible to do—I’m very, very sure that Saint loves me.
When Malcolm arrives, I’m wearing a little black dress and ballet flats, my hair down and hardly any lipstick.
The door of his Pagani Huayra flies open, and he holds my hand as I slip inside, and soon we’re speeding off.
“Hey,” I ask. “How was your day?”
“Good now.”
He reaches out to give me a brief, but delish corner kiss, and I reach out to take his hand after he changes gears, leaving it there.
We go to a private room at a five-star restaurant called Tableau. Behind a set of velvet curtains, we’re alone, just Sin and I, talking about today. I guess I’m the one talking the most, but he’s listening to me like he always does with a charmed amusement that spears into my heart and melts me.
“I called my ex-coworkers. I told them if they’re leaving Edge—I want them with me.”
“Your mother?”
“I haven’t told her yet.”
“You realize she can hand-paint your covers if you wanted her to?”
“Yes. And I do want her to.”
He sits across the table from me and I just want to lean over and eat him up with kisses. I feel cherished. Protected. Safe.
“I’m so excited.”
I laugh lightly while his boldly handsome face smiles warmly across the table. I love when his full lips soften with humor and his part-smile, part-smirk goes all the way to light up his eyes.
“So your father has officially bought Edge?”
He nods.
“You knew he wouldn’t back down to you.”
“He’s as proud as me. He told you he’d win, didn’t he?” He leans back and eyes me quietly. “He was obsessed with my mother. They were perfectly in love until I arrived. He couldn’t stand that his perfect wife gave him an imperfect son. He resented that she became protective of me. She loved me more than him. He didn’t take it well.”
“I never knew.” I look at him.
“Now I know.”
“What?”
“What he felt. That I’d do anything for you. Fuck over anyone to protect you. Do anything to keep you. Crush the world for you. My mother’s gone but he still wants to prove he’s better than me. Prove to her how wrong she was to choose me over him. She asked for a divorce but he never let her go.”