Frustrated, I paused my pacing and texted her. Any news yet?
I hit send and then decided it was probably a good idea to clarify. From Daddy?
It took several minutes for her reply so I jumped when the notification pinged.
Mom: Only talked briefly. He says things are good. Ask Edward for more details. He was there as well.
Considering I’d asked her to give me the update so that I could be prepared for Edward, her text was not very helpful.
Except that she’d filled me in on something I hadn’t even thought to consider—Edward had been at the meeting as well.
Fuck.
Why had Edward been there? Chandler had asked me to get a meeting with my father. When had that invitation been extended to Edward? Did that mean Hudson had changed his mind? Was he giving over the top spot to Edward after all?
After our last encounter, it was possible, but didn’t seem likely.
Then Edward had to have been there because my father had taken him along. Which meant he probably argued any alternative CEO suggested. Which meant Hudson had very definitely argued back, and though there were a dozen different ways I could imagine the scenario going from there, I was pretty sure many of them ended in the same way—with Edward in a rage.
There was a chance he wouldn’t come straight home after. He spent most of his days in his temporary office, and even if he did come home, he might not give any indication that he’d had a bad day, seeing how he barely gave me any indication of his days at all as of late.
But if things had gone very, very badly for him, if he had any reason to blame me...
Going to my parents’ house was once again appealing. Very appealing.
I turned my pacing into a purposeful stride, slipping on a pair of flats, searching for where I’d left my purse, finding it at the far end of the living room next to the sofa. After checking to make sure my sunglasses were inside, I turned to head out, muttering to myself how ridiculous I was being since, even if the meeting had gone as I’d suspected, there was little chance that I’d be connected to it at all, only to stop abruptly when I looked up and saw Edward at the mouth of the room.
Though his expression gave away nothing, his eyes said everything. They burned into me with vehement, laser focus, radiating hatred and fury and murder, and he didn’t have to say a single word. He knew. I didn’t know how it was possible, but he knew.
And here I was, trapped. Two glass walls at my back, a wall of books and a wall of concrete before me, Edward blocking the only way in or out.
Trapped.
“Good. You’re here.” Despite the indignation in his gaze, his tone was cold.
Scary cold. Cold that lashed and bit and bore down to the bone.
I always found him irresistible like that, when he was menacing and mean. It sparked something in the lizard parts of my being, turned me into a baser version of myself. Made me feral and restless and aroused.
At a more civilized level, it made me wary.
I swallowed, taking a careful step around the cocktail ottoman, calculating my options. Could I make it past him if I ran? Did I need to try to escape?
Did I want to?
“I was on my way out.” This step was less cautious, as were the next two that followed.
But then he took a step of his own, toward me. “It can wait.”
“It...” I was on the verge of making up a lie, but where would I urgently need to be? The doctor was my only obligation these days, and Edward had been with me when I’d made my next appointment for a month out.
Maybe I was making this into more than it was anyway. “Okay. What’s up?” I forced a casual inflection and urged the corners of my lips up, not quite a smile, but less not than before.
He moved again, toward me, stopping at the desk to deposit a small brown bag I only just noticed. The kind they used at the drugstore down the block. The shape the contents made wasn’t quite discernible, but whatever it was, it stayed standing when he set it down.
“I had an interesting meeting this morning that I wanted to discuss with you,” he said, and the bag was forgotten as I returned to panicking.
I pushed the strap of my purse up my shoulder, clutching to it with the need to clutch to something, and somehow managed to sound collected. “That’s new. Since you don’t usually talk to me about...well, anything.”
“I probably wouldn’t this time either, if you weren’t so inextricably involved.” He stalked toward me, circling round the ottoman like a lion on the hunt.
“Oh? What happened?” I reversed direction, which wasn’t any better because now the couch was on the other side of me and the rest of the way around was narrow and more caged.
In a flash, he was right in front of me, heat emanating from his body now as well as his mood, and I dropped my purse and thought again of making a run for it, willed my legs to make the move, but something deeper willed me to stay still, not quite in surrender. More like in curiosity. In enthrallment.
“It’s less of what happened that I’m apt to share at the moment,” he said, backing me up toward his desk without laying a single hand on me. “And more of how it made me feel.”
Shit. “Do you need to have a session?”
Not really the time to poke at the beast, but I never could help myself when it came to him.
And, as often happened when I poked, I was rewarded. I fought not to purr as his hands gripped my hips, his touch sending electric pulses to my core and warmth up through my chest.
God, it had been so long. I wanted to lean in. Wanted to cling. Wanted to urge him to touch more.
Turned out no urging was needed. “I believe a session isn’t necessary.” He pressed his body flush against mine. “I can already succinctly articulate the emotion.”
Delicious chills ran through me as he slanted his mouth toward my ear. “It feels,” he said in a husky baritone, “like I’ve been fucked in the arse. By my wife.”
My mouth fell open, my body ready to protest before my mind had strung any defense together.
He pushed tighter against me, pinning me with his hips while also showing off an impressive erection hidden inside his Brioni suit. Vaguely, I was aware of him reaching across the desk for the bag he’d set down earlier, then fully aware when he dug inside and pulled out a bottle of generic lube.
“I thought it only fair to reciprocate,” he said.
Adrenaline shot through my system, my heart palpitating as I understood his intent. “Now...Edward…”
No words came after that because I wasn’t all too sure what it was I wanted to convey. I needed a second to think.
But he didn’t give me any time at all.
“Turn around.” He was already guiding my body to do as he’d commanded.
I was halfway turning, so used to surrendering when he took charge, then came to my senses. “Wait. I’m…”
I blinked up at him, unable to finish this sentence as well.
His eyes connected with mine, serious and seeking. “Are you telling me to stop?”
I should have.
I should have stood my ground, pushed him off of me, and said This is not happening, no fucking way.
But I was scared. Not because I thought he’d force himself on me, but because I was afraid that if I protested, he would stop, and while I was also very intimidated about what he apparently wanted to do to me, I was desperately wanting him, in any way he’d give himself.