13
Heart So Cold
Tyson
We step onto the elevator, and Dina stands as far away from me as she can. She’s been seething in silence since she sent me that last text.
And I’ve been close to shitting my pants every time I replay that whole nightmare of an evening and the scene we made on our way out.
If there’s one thing I’m not lacking, it’s self-awareness. I know I take my jokes too far, forget that I’m not a mind reader, and sometimes can’t see the woods for the trees. The one place I pride myself in never slipping up—at least not since the incident with Kayleigh—is with women and work.
Tonight, I’ve fucked up in both areas. As soon as I close the door to our suite, she rounds on me, eyes blazing, tongue ready to lash me with words that will cut deeper than any knife could.
And I don’t blame her. While her anger built on the car ride over, mine simmered and then cooled quickly.
I deserve it. I acted like a caveman. If anyone put that deal in jeopardy tonight, it’s me. I physically attacked a man. If he’d decided to call the police, he would have been within his rights.
“Listen, I’m sorry about the way I acted. But first I couldn’t believe that you wanted to stay for that party. And then, that shit you said about my mother not trusting me. It was a low blow, but I know you were angry and didn’t mean it, so I’ve forgiven you. I hope you can do the same and we can move on with what was going to be a really nice night.”
She eyes me like I’m a thumbprint marring an otherwise spotless window. “No, Tyson, we can’t just move on. First of all, yes, what I said about your mother was wrong. But I can’t believe you actually thought I wanted to stay.”
I throw my hands up in exasperation. “What do you mean? You said, ‘I want to stay.’ Why would I believe anything else?”
“The same way I knew she was lying when she said you brought me there to share me. And that she wasn’t when she told me you’ve added cuckolding to your list of performance pieces.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks at the judgment in her eyes and voice. But anger that Paula violated the privacy agreement we all signed stiffens my spine.
“I did that once, Dina. And never again.”
She looks at me in horror. “He’s been your friend since college. How could you?”
“What? I don’t even know Ron.”
“Ron? I’m talking about George.” She covers her mouth as if to hold back a scream and shakes her head. “Don’t tell me you fucked Paula, too. What the hell, Tyson?” She covers her face with her hands and starts to pace in front of me.
I put a hand on each of her shoulders. “Dina, I’m confused as hell. I did do that with Paula, but not with Kate. Why would you think that?”
“Because that’s what she told me.” She closes her eyes and lets her head fall back on a loud groan. “That bitch. She was lying. I knew it. And right before you came in, she was about to tell me something about George.”
“Something like, what?”
She shoves my hands off her shoulders and starts to pace again “I don’t know. That was why I wanted to stay, to hear what she was going to say. Now we’re walking in there with nothing but uncertainty. I have no clue where to even start looking.”
“I’m sorry I can’t read your mind, Dina. You could have just said so.”
“I tried, but you lost it, and now our cover is blown.”
My heart skips a beat. “No, it’s not. Why do you think that?”
“We had an audience on the stairs.”
I wave that concern away. “George won’t say anything. I’m more concerned with why Kate would sit there and spin a bunch of lies.”
She stops pacing mid-step and snaps her head up, her eyes narrowed. “You told those people that I was obsessed with you.” She speaks through gritted teeth.
My stomach falls to my toes. I don’t remember saying that, but anything is possible given how drunk off my face I was. “Who said that?”
“Kate. She may have been lying about the kink club stuff, but no way she could have known that I came to your house and cried when you told me you didn’t want me. Unless you told her. In the car, you made it sound like you were sorry for what happened. Now I don’t know what to believe.”
I don’t waste time trying to deny it. “It was the night after I arrived in Paris. Two days after I’d seen you. I was upset, I had too much to drink, and I don’t remember much of that night. I might have said those things, but it’s not the way I felt or feel.”
She closes her eyes and expels a long, deep breath. When she opens them again, they’re flat and expressionless. “You know what? How you feel, how I feel, it doesn’t matter. We’re here to do a job. Let’s just focus on that.”
She walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. A second later the shower comes on. I follow her in. She’s slipped out of her dress, and she’s standing in front of the gold leaf lined sinks, gloriously naked and visibly tense.
Her bowed head comes up when I walk in, and our eyes meet in the mirror.
“Why are we fighting?”
She closes her eyes and leans back so her head rests on my shoulder. “I don’t know, but I’m tired of it. I want to feel good, Tyson.”
“Then let me do that.”
She wraps her fingers around my wrist and lifts my hand to her breast.
“Yes, I can tell you love this as much as I do.” I cup the voluptuous soft flesh and groan at the way it fills and overflows in my hand. I roll her stiff nipple with my fingers until she moans.
“Yes, Tyson. Your touch sets my body on fire,” she whispers.
I expel a breath and press my face into her neck and breathe in the essence of her—sweat and sweetness mixed and heady in my nose. My lips glide against the base of her throat, and her pulse dances against them. “Because your whole body was made for me to pleasure.”
She turns around in my arms and searches my face, and then cups it. She lifts onto her toes and presses a soft kiss to my mouth. But when I try to deepen the kiss, she breaks it and pulls away. She steps out of my embrace and crosses her arms over her naked chest.
“What are you doing?”
“You may set my body on fire. But Tyson, it doesn’t matter when you leave my heart out in the cold.”
I don’t think anything has ever made me feel so ashamed of myself as what she just said.
I laugh in the face of danger, but the distance in her words, the lack of emotion in her face, is fucking terrifying. I want to throw myself at her feet and beg her forgiveness. Which is ridiculous. I need to get my head back in the game. I fucked up and let her distract me and now I may have messed up this chance.
She steps into the shower without another word or backwards glance.
I stand there unsure what to do for a full minute before I stalk out and slam the door behind me.
This is why I don’t do relationships. This is the least productive day I’ve had since I moved here.
I can’t stay in this room. And I’m sure she’s hoping I’ll be gone when she gets back.
I go down to the bar for a drink. When the bartender brings my whiskey, I ask him to wait a second, knock it back in one gulp, and order a double. This is a bad idea. I’m not a heavy drinker, and I know I’ll pay for it later. But I need something to numb the ache in my head and chest.