Chapter 15 : Unsure Feelings

Naomi.

Standing in the doorway.

Staring at us.

I grabbed the nearest pillow, covering myself as much as possible. Denzel moved to block her view of me, his face a mix of fury and mortification.

For a moment, nobody moved. Nobody spoke. We all just stared at each other in horrified silence.

"GET OUT!" Denzel finally roared.

"I'm going! I'm going! Jesus Christ!" Naomi grabbed her phone from the nightstand, apparently she'd left it there earlier, and practically ran out, slamming the door behind her.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Oh my God," I whispered, my face burning with humiliation. "Oh my God, she saw…."

"She saw nothing," Denzel said firmly, though his own face was flushed.

"She saw EVERYTHING!"

"She saw some things. Not everything."

“I think I should be going, this is so humiliating” grabbing my dress to put on.

"I can never face her again."

"Amelia….."

"No. This is terrible. This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

"Worse than being forced into a contract marriage with me?"

“Can you promise me one thing Denzel?” I asked wishing that he would agree.

“ What's that Amelia?” He asked, trying to pull me close.

“Ummm….. can we not ask about what happened? like pretend that it never happened.”

“ Are you being serious right now Amelia?” His lips twitching.

“ It's not as simple as you think!”

"Can we not talk about this right now?"

"When can we talk about it?" He asked.

"Never. We can never talk about it.”

“Alright, it's fine, have it your way!” he added.

I just left the room without saying any more word to him.

The avoidance continued.

For three days straight, I perfected the art of not being in the same room as Denzel. I'd wake up before dawn, leave for the foundation before he came down for breakfast, and return long after he'd retreated to his study or bedroom.

When we did cross paths, in hallways, on stairs, briefly in the kitchen. I'd mumble an excuse and flee like my life depended on it.

Because facing him meant remembering. And remembering made my entire body flush with heat and humiliation.

His mouth between my legs. His fingers inside me. The way I'd fallen apart for him. And Naomi seeing it all.

No. I couldn't face him. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

By Friday, I was exhausted from the avoidance. The showcase had been a massive success, Danielle had praised my organizational skills, the designers had thanked me profusely, and several major retailers had placed orders. My first real professional achievement.

But I couldn't even enjoy it because every five minutes, my traitorous mind would replay Wednesday night.

I needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn't involved. Someone who would give it to me straight.

I called Serena.

"Coffee. Now. Emergency," I said when she picked up.

"I'm already in the car. Send me the address."

We met at a small café far from the mansion, far from the foundation, far from anywhere I might run into anyone I knew. Serena arrived in fifteen minutes, took one look at my face, and ordered us both double-shot lattes.

"Okay," she said, settling into the booth across from me. "Spill. What happened?"

"I did something stupid."

"How stupid are we talking? Forgot to file your taxes stupid or accidentally married a cold and arrogant billionaire? Oh wait, you already did that one."

"Serena, I'm serious."

Her expression sobered. "Okay. Tell me."

So I did. All of it. The tension building with Denzel while taking care of Connor. The kiss in the kitchen. Him carrying me to his bedroom. The way he'd undressed me so slowly. How nervous I'd been. What he'd done to me with his mouth and fingers. How incredible it had felt.

And then Naomi walking in.

By the time I finished, Serena's eyes were wide as saucers.

"Holy shit," she breathed.

"I know."

"Denzel Adams went down on you."

"Please don't say it like that."

"And you came so hard you screamed his name."

My face burned. "Serena!"

"And then Naomi walked in and saw the whole thing."

"Not the whole thing. Just... enough."

Serena started laughing. Not a polite chuckle, full-on, tears-streaming-down-her-face laughter. People at nearby tables turned to look.

"It's not funny!" I hissed.

"It's a little funny. I mean, the timing. Right as you're about to…." She dissolved into laughter again.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't." She wiped her eyes. "Okay, okay. I'm done. I'm serious now." She took a sip of her latte. "So. How are you feeling about all this?"

"Mortified. Embarrassed. Confused."

"That's it?"

"What else should I be feeling?"

"I don't know. Maybe... turned on? Wanting more? In love?”

"In love?" I nearly choked on my coffee. "Are you insane?"

"Am I? Ray, you just told me you let a man you supposedly can't stand go down on you and give you the orgasm of your life. That's not 'can't stand' behavior. That's 'falling in love' behavior."

"I am NOT falling in love with him."

"Then what is it?"

"Lust. Physical attraction. That's all."

"Uh-huh." Serena looked thoroughly unconvinced. "And that's why you've been avoiding him for three days? Because it's just lust?"

"I'm avoiding him because I'm embarrassed!"

"About Naomi walking in or about how much you liked what he did to you?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. "Both."

"Ray." Serena reached across the table and took my hand. "It's okay to have feelings for him. It's okay to want him. It's okay to let yourself be happy."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because this is a contract marriage. Because in less than two years, this will all be over. Because getting emotionally involved will only make it hurt more when it ends."

"Who says it has to end?"

"The contract does. Two years. That's what we agreed to."

"Contracts can be renegotiated. Terms can change." She squeezed my hand. "Ray, I've known you since we were kids. I've seen you with guys before. I've never and I mean never seen you look the way you look when you talk about Denzel."

"How do I look?"

"Like you're terrified and exhilarated at the same time. Like you're falling and don't know if there's going to be something to catch you." She smiled softly. "Like you're in love but too scared to admit it."

"I'm not in love with him," I insisted.

"Okay. If you say so."

"I'm not!"

"I believe you." She clearly didn't.

"Serena…."

"All I'm saying is, maybe stop running away and actually talk to the man. See where this goes. You might be surprised."

"Or I might get my heart broken."

"That's a risk. But Ray? Living a safe, closed-off life where you never take chances? That's not living at all."

I thought about Serena's words all afternoon. Was she right? Was I falling in love with Denzel?

No. Impossible. I'd only known him a few months. You couldn't fall in love that quickly.

Could you?

I shook off the thought and headed to the foundation for the investor cocktail event Danielle had organized. It was a chance to mingle with potential donors, secure funding for future programs. I'd been looking forward to it.

Until I walked in and saw him.

Denzel.

Standing near the bar in a dark suit that probably cost more than my car, talking to Danielle. He looked up as I entered, his eyes finding mine immediately across the crowded room.

My heart stuttered.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, approaching them.

"Mr. Adams was kind enough to make a very generous donation to the foundation," Danielle said, smiling. "We're so grateful for his support."

"I wanted to see what my wife has been working so hard on," Denzel said smoothly. "You don't mind, do you, Amelia?"

Yes, I minded. I minded very much. But I couldn't say that in front of Danielle.

"Of course not," I said tightly.

"Wonderful! Rayna, would you mind introducing Mr. Adams to some of our other donors? I need to check on the caterers." Danielle swept away, leaving us alone.

"You're avoiding me," Denzel said the moment she was gone.

"I'm not…."

"Yes, you are. Three days, Amelia. You've barely looked at me."

"I've been busy with the showcase…"

"Don't lie to me. We need to talk about what happened."

"There's nothing to talk about. It was a mistake. Let's just forget it happened."

"A mistake." His jaw clenched. "Is that really what you think?"

"Yes."

"You're lying again. Your mouth…"

"Mr. Adams!" A booming voice interrupted. An older man with silver hair and an expensive suit approached, hand extended. "Richard Whitmore. I've been hoping to meet you."

Denzel's expression smoothed into professional charm. "Mr. Whitmore. The pleasure is mine."

They shook hands, and I took the opportunity to slip away into the crowd.

The event was going well. I mingled, made small talk with donors, discussed the foundation's programs. I was in the middle of explaining our mentorship initiative when I felt a hand on my lower back.

"Excuse us," Richard Whitmore said to the couple I'd been talking to. "I need to borrow Mrs. Adams for a moment."

Before I could protest, he was steering me away from the crowd, down a hallway, toward what looked like a private office. a major donor. An influential man. And I was new at this, didn't want to make waves.

I stepped inside. He followed, closing the door behind us.

The click of the lock made my blood run cold.

"Mr. Whitmore…"