“Yes. I’ve got mine, as well.” Usually, he’d already be back in his office, getting it down on paper before his business meeting this evening, but he wasn’t leaving her while she was blatantly upset. Leaning back against the wall, he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. Exhaustion was creeping into his bones. He needed a decent night’s sleep or four. “Sylvie—”
“Materially, socially, in almost every way, Rosie’s an incredibly privileged person,” she said suddenly, pushing up to sit on the edge of her desk as if she, too, felt drained. “She admits as much. But mentally, I think she has very little respite. Johnny isn’t just her lover, her best friend—he’s her sanctuary. She obviously feels completely and utterly safe with him.”
“With good reason. He would literally take a bullet for her, and there’s no way that was what it looked like. That man doesn’t have an unfaithful bone in his body.”
Sylvie looked down at a photo of the kiss; exhaling in a noisy gust, she brought the phone to her forehead, pressing the cool screen against her skin.
“Bone-deep, every instinct in me agrees with you,” she said at last. “But there’s something fucking dodgy going on. That was a private part of the palace, Rosie obviously has no idea he was meeting someone there, and you said it yourself at your flat—there was a shifty look in his eyes at that meeting. He’s not a good actor.” She lowered the phone to shoot it another narrowed look. “Am I right in thinking that woman—”
“Was last spotted having a massive tantrum outside the royals’ private office?” There was a reciprocally grim note in his response then. He’d strip naked and cartwheel into the Thames if Johnny had willingly partaken of that vicious snog this afternoon, but—yeah. Admittedly, with no pun intended, things were not looking all that rosy for the royal engagement. “I can’t be dead certain. Distance. Poor light.” And increasingly fucked eyes from years of intricate detail work. He was heading for a pair of glasses the next time he saw an optician. He’d casually mentioned that to Sylvie last night, a passing comment that had somehow led to a blow job. Apparently, she was strongly in favor of the specs. So was he, now. “But I think so. Her height, her boots, the ringlets. All a match.”
“You noticed her boots?” Sylvie was momentarily distracted. “Jesus. You and Pet should open a detective agency.” In a moment of lightness, she fluttered her lashes at him, and welcome laughter crinkled his eyes. “I’ll be the mysterious sexpot who seduces you on your desk.”
He nodded at the desk beneath her. “Practice makes perfect. If you’d like to demonstrate on your desk—”
She touched the wooden surface. “This one is Jay’s.”
“Ah.” Amidst the neatly arranged papers and pens was a framed photo of her and Fforde. It hadn’t been taken in England; looked like the south of France. They were on the beach, Sylvie’s arms wrapped around her knees as she beamed into the camera. Fforde sat at her side, turning to look at her, also smiling. Dominic rubbed his thumb over his jaw as he continued to study it, very thoughtfully, for an extended moment. “Maybe take a rain check until you’re in my office, then.”
Sighing, Sylvie dropped her phone on the desk and drummed her heels against the wood. “What do we do about it?” She inclined her head toward the screen. “We’re about to submit proposals for their wedding cake. Rosie’s already having doubts. I doubt they’d be alleviated if I texted her a photo of her fiancé tumbling around her massive garden with a temperamental blonde. This is both none of our business and also literally our business. Businesses,” she corrected belatedly, with a slight blink. She bit her lip and her tone abruptly changed. “It’s so bloody odd. I genuinely keep forgetting that we’re competing in this. I feel like I’m talking to my partner.”
In the beat of silence that followed, the air felt thick and heavy with unspoken words, and a flush of the palest pink swept through her cheeks.
He cleared his suddenly dry throat. “I know you care about those two in a way that has nothing to do with this contract—”
“So do you,” she murmured.
“Clearly, it’s going to play on your own peace of mind if you do nothing. The only thing I can suggest is that when we submit the proposals before the ball, one or both of us speaks to Johnny privately. Be honest about what we saw, and leave anything further to him.”
After a moment, she nodded. Her eyes were searching his. “Do you still have that business dinner tonight?”
He pushed his hand through his hair, cupping the back of his neck. “Mm-hmm. And if I don’t want to turn up looking as if I’ve been dragged through a hedge, I need to get going.” Drinks and filet mignon with the CEO of Farquhar’s, one of his biggest clients. The networking would likely result in a high-five-figure contract, and if he only had his own income to worry about, he’d be very tempted to reschedule.
“Dom. When all the work is done,” she said so softly, a whisper on a breath, “we need to talk.” Her office window looked onto a brick wall, but the definition of the moss-covered bricks was fading with the light, and her features were cast into increasing shadow. “About . . . about this.” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “About us. I always like to know where I stand, and where I’m going. But especially when I’m in a place I’ve never been before.”
From the moment their mouths had met in the Dark Forest, things had developed so insanely naturally between them, but the tension had wrapped around them now in ropes. Dominic vaguely heard a soft sound outside the closed door, but neither of them looked away.
In fiction, falling in love seemed to happen in soft focus, all cheerful montages of pop music and soulful glances. In reality, it was raw and confronting, powerful and passionate, shifting every goalpost.
The past few weeks had been so busy he’d barely had a moment of rest, and his head had been thrown into a total spiraling mindfuck where she was concerned. It was as if his usual, well-trodden path had begun to crumble beneath his feet, at first in pieces over a longer time than he’d ever admitted, and then he’d fallen so quickly he’d never had a chance to catch his breath. It was overwhelming, and it was disorientating.
And ultimately, he was thankful. He was incredibly grateful to know that he could feel like this about someone, and he was increasingly privileged that it was her.
But he also hadn’t known how it would feel giving someone the power to cause him hurt.
How difficult it would be to take the last step, to let go of the need for control.
To take the biggest leap of faith there was.
He nodded, and her teeth sank deeper into her lip. With a decisive movement, she pushed off the desk and came to stand before him. Without another word, she went up on her tiptoes, very lightly framed his jaw with her hands, and kissed him hard.
They continued to look into one another’s eyes as the kiss deepened, then softened, feeling each other’s mouths, darting the tips of tongues along the silky skin of inner lips, nipping and nuzzling. His hands were on the curves of her waist, feeling the warmth beneath her shirt, his thumbs gently stroking up and down.
When she breathed in deeply and carefully broke away, her cheeks were red, her pupils dilated, and his erection strained against his zipper.