Two margaritas later and we're still sitting on the dock laughing. The sun is starting to set, but we haven't run out of things to say or funny stories to tell. I feel like we never will. I'm sure we're supposed to be heading back to the airplane soon, but I don't want to leave. I'm having such a good time with Christopher here on this dock. Every so often we see dolphins. Christopher loves them. They make him smile and laugh every time. It's been the perfect day. One that I never expected, but enjoyed completely. If this is what “being managed” looks like, then I'm fine with being managed every day. As much as I want to see Jonathan, this is almost better. Almost. I look over at Christopher, curious if he feels the same. His gaze is out toward the horizon, his face calm and peaceful. The lines around his eyes are gone and his stern mouth is actually almost a smile. He looks happier than I've seen him in a long time. In all his business photos and the few times I've seen him aroun
The kiss is simple and sweet. Just our lips pressing together like they were meant to be that way. I like the way his lips feel against mine and tremble at the idea of more. I pull back, my eyes searching his face. My hand is still on his cheek. What am I doing? I ask myself. Does he feel this connection too? Or is this all just in my head? Was this day as magical as I think it was, or is Christopher just that skilled in keeping me busy? All I know, is that right now, I want to kiss him. I want to do more than just kiss him. Time resumes and the sun slips beneath the waves behind us, shadows growing longer with every passing second. My hand trembles as I wait for his reaction. “Nora,” he whispers. His pupils dilate, nearly swallowing up the blue of his eyes. His hand is suddenly on the back of my head, pulling me into a new kiss. This new kiss is better than the last. There is passion and desire in this kiss, a need that threatens to overwhelm both of us. This kiss is a little p
The sound of Christopher's voice wakes me. The dawn is coming, but it's still dark outside. The sound of the ocean against the pillars below us remains steady. There are no birds or animals moving yet. It's still dark, with just the gray image of light soon to come. I sit up in bed, unsure of where I am. I look around, getting my bearings. The bed next to me is empty and cool to the touch. I'm not sure how long Christopher has been gone. I look around, trying to figure out what woke me. I hear Christopher in the next room. Yellow light gleams from under the door. It's bright and artificial looking against the gray of dawn in the bedroom. “No, the merger takes precedence. I don't care what it costs, get their lawyers in line. This is going forward as planned.” Christopher's voice is frustrated. I slide out of bed, the sheets hissing as I move. The floor is cool on my bare feet and I grab my robe from where I tossed it the night before. I wrap it around me, surprised that I'm still
It's late afternoon when we get back to the mansion. The sun is hot and there isn't a cloud in the sky. It's smoggy in the city, but clear by the estate. I step out of the limo and into the driveway. It feels different to be here now. This is where I've loved Jonathan all my life. To be here now feels like I've betrayed that memory somehow. “Oh no.” Guilt pulls on me with invisible strings, making me heavy. “What?” Christopher asks. He slides his phone back into his pocket, but I can already hear it vibrating with some sort of urgent message. All Christopher's messages are urgent. “I promised Jonathan I would call him,” I reply. I wince, feeling shame and guilt roll through me. “I totally forgot.” I forgot to call him because I was too busy doing his brother. “I wouldn't worry,” Christopher advises me. “I'm pretty sure he was busy keeping my mother from freaking out. You were the least of his concerns.” For some reason, the comment stings a little more than I expect. “I should
“I have a favor to ask of you,” Christopher says. I squint up at him, the morning sunlight bright behind his head. I have a book in my hands as I sit on the bottom step to my dad's apartment, but I'm not really reading. My brain is more focused on Christopher and Jonathan than on the words on the page. I spent a restless night thinking about the two of them, and the book isn't helping me get my mind off of either of them. I have years of wanting Jonathan on one side, and a night of passion on the other. How am I supposed to choose between them? “What kind of favor?” I ask warily. I have a feeling that there is more to this request than just driving him to the airport or loaning him a cup of sugar. “It's kind of a last-minute thing,” he tells me. He sounds casual and unconcerned, but he's playing with his cuff links. It's another one of his tells. Cuticles and cuff links mean he's nervous. Christopher is wearing his traditional suit. It's dark gray today with a pale blue tie. His
The dress is magnificent. Hunter green satin with a matching lace overlay falls from a boat neck cut that accentuates my collar bones. The bodice is tight without being restrictive and the skirt is long and tight, but with a slit up to my thigh. It's classy and sexy, and of course, it fits perfectly. I wonder what Christopher told his secretary to get the measurements so correct. “You look lovely,” Dad says, walking into the living room. It's almost five and I'm trying to wait patiently by the door without actually looking like I'm waiting. Despite wearing an evening gown, I've tidied up the living room and unloaded the dishwasher. If I wasn't afraid of splashing water on my dress, I'd do the dishes in the sink and scrub it too. “Thank you,” I tell my dad, smiling at the compliment. “Here, let me fix your hair.” Dad comes over and carefully smooths a strand of hair away from my face. He smiles as he steps back and looks me over. “You've grown so much. Your mother would be so prou
“Whoa, there,” Christopher says, catching my arm and keeping me upright. “You haven't even had anything to drink yet.” My hand goes to my chest, my palm shaking against my skin. The sudden rush of adrenaline has me trembling, and it's combining with the adrenaline of walking a red carpet. I take a shaky breath. “You okay?” Christopher asks. He still has his hand on me, keeping me from tipping over. I'm glad, because I feel like I might fall without him there. “Just embarrassed,” I tell him. I give him a unsteady smile. “What a way to make an entrance, right?” “Don't worry. No one saw a thing,” he assures me. He moves my hand to his elbow. I remember practicing walking with him like this when we were younger. Learning how to properly escort a lady into a dance was part of his dance lessons. The hotel is grand. The party is lavish, and the guests are all rich. There are senators and movie stars mingling with drinks in their hands. I swallow hard. I've seen this world from the outsi
“Here we are. It's not much, but it's home,” Christopher says, holding open the door to his penthouse suite. It's a stunning penthouse suite with iconic views of New York that is anything but “not much.” The furniture is white and modern and there's art on the wall that I'm sure are original pieces and each one worth more than I paid for my college education. There's also a grand piano. “Christopher, this is a museum-worthy piece of art that happens to be on top of a building,” I tell him, standing in awe in front of the giant window that looks out over the twinkling city lights. From up here, it looks almost calm and peaceful. “That's just because you haven't seen other people's,” he tells me, going to the kitchen and opening the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of champagne and pops the cork. I look around. I can't imagine how something could be more opulent than this. I suppose it could be bigger. More rooms or maybe painted with gold. The view alone has to be worth millions. It's