Chapter 4 — His Price Was Never Money

Miles turned the screen toward Grant.

I saw the name Rosemere Capital and a letter concerning the review of Mercer Media's financing application.

"Ten million wouldn't cover the guarantee you're currently seeking," Miles said. "The principals have requested that negotiations be suspended pending review of the recent threats involving your company."

Grant stared at him.

Jamie put his phone away.

"You can't afford your own offer," he said. "And even if you could, the answer is no."

He took my hand again.

"You don't buy time in her life. You get invited."

The room stayed silent until Grant's father cleared his throat.

"Perhaps this discussion belongs elsewhere."

"It belonged elsewhere before he offered to purchase my relationship," I said.

I handed back the microphone and stepped off the stage with Jamie. Miles followed at a discreet distance.

Sloane stood in our way.

"Whose money are you spending?" she asked him. "Hers?"

Jamie looked at her for a moment.

"Ask your uncle why he's stopped smiling."

He guided me past her without touching her, his hand warm against the back of my waist.

Outside, he didn't limp until the doors closed behind us.

Then he leaned against the car.

"I may have overdone that."

"Which part?"

"The walking."

I turned toward Miles.

"I'd like an explanation."

He looked at Jamie, who suddenly appeared occupied with his trouser cuff.

"Rosemere has a longstanding connection with his family," Miles said. "They were already concerned about the reports involving Mercer. Tonight confirmed that concern."

"And you came because?"

"I was invited to the benefit. Mr. Cole asked me to be available."

All technically plausible. None of it answered the question I was really asking.

Jamie opened the car door.

"Can I explain sitting down? My leg is genuinely throbbing."

I helped him inside before I decided whether he deserved help.

Miles gave me his card and left. Jamie watched me put it in my purse.

"You know him," I said.

"Yes."

"Well enough to call him onto a stage."

"He knew what Grant was doing."

"Stop answering the least interesting part of my questions."

Jamie turned toward me. The confidence from the stage was gone, but I no longer believed that meant he had none.

"My family has money. Connections. I didn't want that to become the reason you kept me."

"You're aware I offered you a house before learning your surname?"

"Yes. Your opening approach was magnificent."

I didn't smile.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice.

"Vivian. I wanted one evening where nobody decided I was there because of someone else's name."

"You could have said that."

"Would you have looked at me the same way?"

"You haven't given me the chance."

He looked toward the window. Streetlights moved over his face, briefly sharpening the features I had watched onstage.

I put Miles's card on the seat between us.

"You can't keep telling me you're harmless and then making powerful men afraid of you."

"I never said harmless."

"You implied it very persuasively."

He looked back at me, almost smiling.

"You liked the implication."

I couldn't deny that. I had enjoyed being the woman with all the answers, the resources, the power to make him blush.

Now I had seen something beneath it, and it hadn't made me want him less.

"I like making up my own mind," I said.

His expression changed at once.

"Then keep the card. Call him. Ask what he can tell you."

I touched the edge of it.

"That's a brave offer."

"It doesn't feel brave."

His honesty unsettled me more than another joke would have. I put the card away and let him remain close enough that our shoulders touched for the rest of the drive.

He looked down at our hands. I hadn't let go of him.

"I know."

I studied the side of his face. The firm jaw I had watched tighten in the restaurant. The mouth that could make me laugh or forget I had planned to.

"How many versions of you are there?"

He raised his eyes.

"The one who talks to Grant isn't the one I want to be with you."

"That doesn't mean I should never see him."

His thumb brushed the edge of my ring.

"You didn't hate him?"

"I haven't decided."

That wasn't entirely true. I had found the transformation unsettling, and more attractive than I was ready to admit.

He saw something in my face. His mouth curved, but he wisely didn't comment.

At home, I checked his dressing and ordered him to remain on the bed while I removed my earrings.

He lasted forty seconds.

I felt his hands settle at my waist as I stood in front of the mirror.

"You're supposed to be resting."

"I was. I didn't like the view from over there."

His gaze met mine in the glass. Without the audience, the suit looked different: one cuff open, collar loose, hair disturbed by the car seat.

He lowered his mouth to my bare shoulder.

The kiss was brief. The pause afterward wasn't.

"What are you doing?" I asked, though my voice had already betrayed me.

"Making sure you still want me in your room."

I turned in his arms and touched his collar.

"You're very good at sounding helpless when you're getting exactly what you want."

His breath changed beneath my fingers.

"I haven't got everything I want."

"What else?"

He looked at me with none of his usual amusement.

"You reaching for me without first remembering him."

I had an answer ready about patience. It sounded cheap even before I said it.

Instead, I put my hands against his face and kissed him.

He held still long enough to let me choose the pace. When I moved closer, his arms tightened, and I felt the careful restraint in him give way to something warmer.

I broke the kiss first.

"There," I said softly. "No reminder required."

His forehead touched mine.

"Do it again."

"Demanding."

"Please."

The word was quiet enough to hurt.

I kissed him again, and afterward he let me walk him back to the bed. I sat beside him while he rested his head against my shoulder.

He didn't try to turn the silence into a performance.

Neither did I.

The following afternoon, I asked Tessa to lunch.

She looked at Miles's card beside my plate and closed her eyes.

"How much did he tell you?"

"That depends. How much hasn't he?"

She called Jamie before touching her food.

For the first time since I had brought him home, I wondered whether the younger man needed my protection at all.