17. Charlotte

17

CHARLOTTE

I ’m more excited, getting ready for the gala Friday night, than I thought I’d be.

I brought my dress over to Sarah’s apartment, and now we’re in her gorgeous pink and gold and quartz bathroom, getting ready side by side like we’re in high school again.

“This is why I can’t move in with a man,” Sarah says dramatically. “Can you imagine any guy being fine with a bathroom like this? He’d try to change my whole aesthetic, or make me move in with him to his bachelor pad. Colin complained so much every time he spent the night.”

“It’s stupid,” I assure her, and in my opinion, it is. Sarah’s apartment is a luxe feminine dream, all soft cream-colored carpets and blush textiles, with pink and white striped wallpaper accenting some of the rooms. Her bed is one of those four-poster canopy beds with gauzy fabric draped around it, like a grown-up princess, and every time I come over, I feel like I’ve entered some kind of fantasy land. It feels like her own private haven, and one of the things that made me detest Colin was how hard he tried to convince her that they should move into a more “polished” apartment of their own.

Now that I think about it, though, a lot of the dreary greys of my own apartment that I’m thinking about updating were because of Nate. He liked it, and so I never thought about what I might like instead.

“A man can pry my pink bathroom away from my cold, dead hands.” Sarah leans forward, rolling another piece of her blonde hair up in a hot roller before pinning it. She grins at me as she puts the final one in place. “I’m going to go get dressed.”

I slip into my own dress as she goes into the bathroom, leaving the back so she can zip it for me—I can’t quite reach it. My own hair is still wet, tucked up into a towel on my head, and I plug in my curling iron as I unzip my makeup bag and start on my face for the night.

An hour later, we’re both ready. Sarah looks like Cinderella in her blue gown, her blonde hair loose in thick Hollywood curls around her face, her makeup soft and flawless in delicate rose and champagne shades. I went for darker and more glamorous, curling my dark hair and pinning the front back, adding bronze eyeshadow, a cat eye, and dark brown lipstick to match the autumn tones of the dress.

“Look at us.” Sarah smiles as she looks at our reflections in the mirror, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close for a hug. “Thank you for coming,” she adds. “This will be so much more fun because you’re here.”

I squeeze her back, just as her phone buzzes, telling us that our Uber is almost here.

The gala is being held at the Natural History Museum. There’s a dark blue carpet rolled out along the steps, making it feel extra fancy, and I point it out to Sarah as we step out of the Uber. “I feel like I’m at the Oscars,” I whisper to her theatrically, and she laughs as we both walk up the stairs towards the lights at the top, where two black-suited doormen are waiting to check our invitations—or rather Sarah’s invitation, since I’m her plus one.

Inside, string music fills the cavernous main space, where tables are spaced out among the exhibits, and a podium has been set up at the far end, with tiles put down for a dance floor on one side of the room. As Sarah leads me towards our table near the front, I see a man I recognize—one of the older partners from Nate’s law firm, and my chest seizes with a sudden cramp of alarm.

“Shit,” I whisper. “I didn’t even think about the fact that Nate might be here.”

Sarah looks in the direction I’m staring, biting her lip. “I didn’t see his name on the guest list,” she murmurs. “I would have said something if I had. I knew the main partners would be here, but he’s not anywhere on?—”

“Maybe he won’t be here.” I bite my lip, sinking into the chair where a small name card with my name written in black script is tilted against a China plate.

“And if he is,” Sarah says firmly, “then he’ll just see what he’s missing out on. You, looking like this .” She waves a hand up and down in the air, gesturing at me, and I manage a small, nervous smile.

“You’re right,” I tell her, and she is. If Nate is here, he’s going to be alone, and he’s just going to see me dressed to the nines and enjoying a night out with one of my best friends. I don’t want him to see that he’s crossed my mind for even a second. I just want him to see me happy and having a good time—without him.

That’s the best revenge, right?

Still, I can’t help keeping an eye out for him as the night progresses. There’s speeches from Sarah’s boss and other members of the charity about the purpose of the dinner tonight, interspersed with the courses of the meal—which, while delicious, are probably not worth seven hundred dollars. There’s a crab bisque, and Caesar salad to start that is phenomenal, and after that, a starter of delicate lamb lollipops with red wine glaze and scallops with a lemon butter finish, followed by filet mignon with gorgonzola cheese crust and roasted potatoes. I’m more than happy to dig into the meal, enjoying every bite, and Sarah and I are deep in conversation about what I could do to renovate my apartment when I suddenly see Nate out of the corner of my eye.

For all that, I told myself I didn’t care, and that I just want him to see me enjoying my evening, the tender filet feels like it turns to cardboard in my mouth. Even more so when I see the woman on his arm, and I drop my fork next to my plate, swallowing hard.

I see Sarah follow the direction I’m looking in. Nate is in one of his Tom Ford suits, a light grey one, and an absolutely stunning woman is on his arm. She has dark auburn hair pulled back in an elegant updo, and she’s wearing a dark green silk dress that almost looks black. It’s simple to the point that it would be boring, if it didn’t cling to her so perfectly, outlining every inch of her perfect body in a way that’s alluring without being too sexy. She’s wearing diamond waterfall earrings as her only jewelry, drawing attention to her sculpted shoulders, swanlike neck, and sharp collarbones, and I stare at her until Sarah elbows me, bringing me out of my jealous haze.

“She’s not that hot,” Sarah says, seeing my expression.

“She looks like a movie star.” I watch them walk to their table. Nate doesn’t see me, which feels like a small blessing, but I still feel like I’m crumbling inside. Not because I want him back, or because I still love him, but because—I can’t even really explain why. I don’t want to be on his arm instead of that woman, and yet, I wanted him to be suffering for what he did. I wanted him miserable, sleeping on his brother’s couch, wishing he hadn’t fucked up so badly. Not swanning into this ridiculously expensive gala with the hottest woman I’ve ever seen on his arm, without a care in the world.

“Stop it.” Sarah pokes me again. “Okay, she’s hot. That doesn’t mean anything. So are you. All it means is that either he paid her to come with him, someone bribed her into it, or she hasn’t figured out how shitty his personality is yet. Either way, he’s still the guy who cheated on you and broke your heart. If he doesn’t realize how badly he fucked up yet, he will eventually.”

I know all that is true, and I clearly remember all the texts I ignored, where he begged me to answer him because he clearly has realized he’s fucked up. I don’t know what’s going on here or who she is, but I do know that Sarah is right, and it shouldn’t matter.

It still doesn’t change the fact that I desperately feel like I need to escape.

“I just need some air,” I tell Sarah, taking a gulp of my wine before pushing my chair back and hurrying towards the opposite end of the room, where I see a curving set of stairs. I follow it up, hoping to find a private place where I can be alone for a minute, and see a door at the top, what looks like it might lead to a fire escape or maybe just a storage closet. At this point, I don’t really care.

I shove the door open, chilly air hitting me in the face, and realize that it leads out to a small balcony.

A balcony that Ivan is standing on, leaning on the railing as he takes a drag off of a cigarette.

For a moment, I don’t believe what I’m seeing. The door slams shut behind me, and I jump, letting out a small squeak as Ivan straightens abruptly, turning to look at me as his eyes widen with startled recognition.

“Charlotte.” He blinks, the cigarette held limply in his fingers, and I can feel that my mouth is hanging open.

I can’t believe I’ve unexpectedly seen Nate and Ivan, within ten minutes of each other. I don’t know what Ivan is doing here, or if seeing him is going to make the night better or worse, but I’m seriously considering getting an Uber and going home.

If it weren’t for Sarah, I definitely would. All I can think is that if he knew he was going to be here, why didn’t he tell me?

Unless he’s keeping secrets, too.

“I—” I swallow hard, trying to think of what to say. I take a few steps forward, suddenly shivering in the chill air, and Ivan’s gaze sweeps over me, his usually dark blue eyes darkening even more as he takes in my appearance.

“You look gorgeous,” he murmurs, flicking the cigarette away as he walks towards me. There’s something prowling in his walk, an intent in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine—but a good one. I’m reminded of the feeling I had walking home the other day, when I imagined my masked man stalking me.

My breath catches in my throat as Ivan stops a few inches away, his gaze sweeping over me once again. We’re alone out here, and I can’t help but think of all the things he could do to me, all the ways he could touch me. We haven’t even kissed, but he looks darkly handsome in his suit, his blond hair styled back away from his face in a way that makes the sharp lines of it look even more chiseled than usual, and my mind is running wild with fantasies that I hadn’t dared to think of before when it came to him.

As if out here, for just a moment, we’re in our own private world. One that no one can inhabit but us.

“I meant to tell you I’d be here,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush his thumb along the edge of my jaw. The touch makes me tremble, for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold. If anything, I feel hot suddenly, warmth blooming through me just from the simple brush of his finger against my skin. “You had to leave lunch in a hurry, or I would have said something.”

I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. “That was Monday,” I whisper, a sharp breeze blowing my hair around my face as I speak. His finger catches one of the pieces, sliding down the length of it before he releases it, and that sends another jolt of heat down my spine for reasons I can’t even begin to explain.

This man does things to me that I didn’t think were possible. That I didn’t think were real . And I want more of it, even if some deep, instinctual part of me is shouting that there’s something dangerous about him, too. Something primal, feral, that I’m not seeing.

That I’m responding to, when instead I should be running away.

“You could have texted since then,” I manage. “You could have told me. You had four other days?—”

“I wanted to explain in person that?—”

“Ivan?” A sweet, lyrical voice floats across the balcony as the door opens before Ivan can finish his sentence, and my heart drops to my feet.

I have no right to be jealous. None at all. I know that, not when I told him that I didn’t want to be exclusive, and yet my stomach twists at the feminine voice, at the sight of the woman walking out onto the balcony.

She’s gorgeous, with blonde hair cut into a soft collarbone-length bob that’s curled around her face, accentuating the delicate lines of it. She’s waifishly thin, dressed in a shimmering rose-gold dress with a square neckline and a peplum waist, designed to give the illusion of hips. She looks at Ivan curiously, but without jealousy, and it makes me wonder what’s going on here.

“We should get back to the party.” Her blue eyes flick over to me, sliding over me with a cool assessment, and my stomach turns.

“So should I.” I break away from Ivan, fleeing towards the door, even as I hear him call my name after me. I can’t stop, though. Even though I have no right to be upset, I am, and I can’t stand hearing an explanation, no matter what it is. On the heels of seeing Nate with his date for tonight, I can’t deal with hearing about why Ivan is here with another woman.

One that he could have warned me about, and didn’t. He could have warned me about all of this.

The door slams behind me, and I try to pick up my pace, but strong, masculine fingers suddenly wrap around my wrist, yanking me back. I can smell Ivan’s cologne, and fear and desire both collide in my chest, making me gasp as he pulls me back.

Out of sheer instinct, I try to pull away, and in the momentary struggle, I feel his shoe step on the hem of my dress, a ripping sound cutting through the thick air between us. I freeze, spinning to face him just as he backs me against the wall of the stairwell.

“You tore my dress,” I whisper. “That was expensive. Sarah bought it for me, and now?—”

“I’ll pay for it. Whatever it costs.” He moves closer, crowding me in, and my pulse kicks up a notch, fluttering in my throat. This close, I can smell not just his cologne but his skin, warm and musky, the masculine scent of him filling my senses. His body is pinning me to the wall, hot and hard, his hands landing on my hips and skimming up my ribs.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” he whispers, those dark blue eyes searching mine. His hips press closer, and I bite my lip, stifling the sound I want to make at the feeling of him pressing against my thigh. He’s hard, a thick, solid line against me through the fabric of his suit and my dress, and I realize with a flush of heat that he’s big . Bigger than any man I’ve been with before.

“The wrong idea about what?” I can hear the bitterness in my voice. “You being here with another woman?”

“You could have been here with another man.” His hands slide up to just below my breasts, fingers gripping as he holds me firmly in place. My pulse is beating wildly, my heart on the verge of pounding out of my chest. No one has ever touched me like this before. I’ve never felt so helpless, so trapped—or so completely, thoroughly aroused.

If Ivan tried to fuck me in this stairwell right now, I’m not entirely sure I would tell him no.

“You said no exclusivity.” His dark eyes glitter. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, but—” I try to swallow, my mouth dry. My head feels foggy. I can’t think past the feeling of his hard cock against me, his hands rubbing up and down my ribs, as if he wants to feel me through the silk and boning of my dress. As if he’s imagining the sensation of my skin against his palms instead. “I?—”

“You were jealous. Because even though you can’t admit it, you want me all to yourself.” He leans in, his mouth skimming along my ear, and it takes everything in me not to moan. My knees feel like they’re turning to water, the weight of his body against me the only thing keeping me upright. “But I have good news for you, Charlotte. I don’t actually care about the woman with me tonight.”

“You—” I blink, trying to make sense of that in my lust-fogged mind. “So why are you here with her?”

Ivan lifts one shoulder in a careless shrug. “Family obligations. Easier to say yes to my father than to say no. I really did want to tell you at lunch, before you had to run, to avoid exactly this. Although—” His hips rock against me again, and my head falls back against the wall, a breathless gasp escaping my lips. I’ve never wanted a man inside me as badly as I want him right now. I want to know what he feels like, hot and hard, sliding against my stomach as he kisses me, nudging inside of me as I wrap my legs around him.

“Now, I’m starting to be glad I didn’t tell you,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear again. “Because if I had, I don’t think we’d be here like this—” His hips press into me again, and this time, I can’t help the small, whispery moan that escapes my lips. “ Doing this, right now.”

His mouth drops to my lips as he surges against me, and the kiss is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s hard, urgent, hungry , his mouth devouring mine as his hands grip my wrists and pin them against the wall, holding me entirely captive.

My lips part underneath his, and his tongue sweeps into my mouth. He tastes like wine, dry and earthy, and my body arches into him involuntarily, wanting more. I never knew a kiss could feel like this, that it could make me hot all over and shivering at the same time, my body tight and aching for sensations that I’ve only ever imagined, so soaking wet that I can feel it.

His teeth catch my lower lip, and he sucks on it briefly, his hard chest pressed to mine as he holds me there, our mouths connected as the kiss slows. My pulse is beating wildly in my throat, and I tip my chin up, wanting more of the desperate, devouring kiss. Wanting more of him .

But then I hear the door click above us, and I know this moment is about to come to an end.

“Ivan.” That musical voice floats down the stairs. “It’s cold outside. And we need to go back to the party.”

If nothing else, the utter carelessness in her voice makes me believe him. There’s nothing about this woman that suggests that she’s angry to not only have found Ivan out on the balcony with me, but then having to wait outside while he kisses me recklessly in a stairwell. Truthfully, she doesn’t seem to care at all. If anything, she seems mildly annoyed that her evening is being interrupted.

Ivan pulls back, breathing hard, his carefully styled hair messy around his face. He runs his fingers through it, pushing it back, and looks down at me with a heat in his gaze that nearly makes my legs buckle. “We’ll finish this later,” he murmurs, his voice husky and full of promise, and then he turns, nodding to the woman as he starts back down the stairs. She follows without even bothering to look at me, trailing behind him as they both disappear from view.

I stand there, breathless for several moments, my head spinning as I try to piece together what just happened. It all feels like it happened in a rush, faster than I could process it.

When I feel like I can breathe again, I look down at the hem of my skirt. It’s torn at the edge, but nothing so bad that anyone will likely even notice. Nothing that will stop me from going back to the table and resuming the evening.

I suck in a slow, shaky breath, trying to regain my composure. I want to believe that Ivan is telling me the truth, that there’s nothing between him and the oddly detached woman. I want to believe that he’s as fully mine as he claims to be, even though I know that isn’t entirely fair to want.

Slowly, I walk back down the stairs, going to rejoin Sarah at the table. I scan the room as I sit down, noticing that Ivan is sitting at the very far end, next to the woman in the rose-gold dress. She’s barely even looking at him, her gaze off somewhere in the distance, her expression utterly bored. By contrast, when I look for Nate, I see that the woman he came here with is animatedly chatting with him, her long diamond earrings swaying back and forth as she speaks, fluttering pale hands tipped with sharp nails.

Not a fellow lawyer, then—no one could do casework all day with nails like those. I tear my gaze away, telling myself that it doesn’t do any good to fixate on what the woman with Nate does. At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter.

“Are you alright?” Sarah asks concernedly, putting a hand on my arm. “You look a little flushed, and you were gone for a while. Do you need something? Another drink, maybe?”

“More wine would be nice,” I admit, licking my lips nervously. Dessert was brought while I was gone; there’s a cold dish of crème br?lée at my place setting. I pick up a teaspoon and chip at the sugary crust with it, just to have something to do with my hands.

Sarah nods, waving one of the servers over, and replacing my empty glass of wine with a full one. I reach for it with trembling fingers, and when I glance over at her, her expression is still concerned.

“Do you want to just call an Uber and go home?” she asks, a small line appearing on her smooth forehead. “It seems like Nate being here really upset you. I would have warned you if I’d known, I promise.”

“It’s fine,” I reassure her quickly. “I know you would have. But maybe—” I look up just then, seeing Ivan escorting the woman onto the dance floor, his hand on the small of her back, and my stomach clenches. “Okay, yeah. Maybe I should head out. I’m sorry?—”

“Don’t be,” Sarah says firmly. “I totally get it. I’d feel the same way if Colin showed up with a new woman on his arm. Just be safe getting home, okay? Here, I’ll call you a ride.”

I start to protest, but she’s already tapping away on her phone. I try not to look in the direction of the dance floor, but my gaze keeps drifting that way anyway, to where Ivan and the woman in the rose-gold dress are swaying back and forth. She’s looking at him intently, now, and while she doesn’t look entirely happy, it does look like she’s finally paying attention to him.

A wave of exhaustion sweeps over me. I know it’s not fair for me to be jealous, but I can’t help it, and trying to fight the irrational feeling is making me tired. I get up and give Sarah a hug, grabbing my clutch and walking briskly towards the entrance, forcing myself not to look in their direction again.

I’ll talk to Ivan about it later, when my head is clearer. Right now, I just want to be home, out of this dress, and in a hot bath.

That’s exactly what I do as soon as I walk into my apartment. I strip out of the dress, hanging it up carefully in front of my closet with every intention to take it somewhere to have the rip mended—and possibly send Ivan the invoice—and draw myself a hot bath with rose-scented bath oil. I sink into the silky hot water, closing my eyes as I reach for the glass of wine I poured myself, and try not to think about how completely upside-down this entire evening went.

My thoughts drift back to the kinky website, and Venom. I could log on tonight, and see if he’s there. But a sharp pang of guilt stops me from taking that line of thinking any further.

I already felt a little guilty for talking to two men at the same time. It’s not the kind of thing I’ve ever done before all of this. But after my encounter with Ivan tonight, I feel even more guilty.

If I was upset that he was at the gala with another woman, it feels wrong to get online and chat with another man tonight, to say and do the things that I did last time. Just the thought of him kissing that other woman the way he kissed me tonight sends a burn of jealousy through me—and I can’t help but think that means that, at least for tonight, I shouldn’t try to see if I can talk to Venom.

This is exactly why I told Ivan that I didn’t want anything serious. But it seems like my heart—and my conscience—is determined to get in the way. This is my time to be free, to explore things. To find out what I’ve been missing for so long. I can’t do that and demand that Ivan wait around for me until I’m ready to make things serious.

Except—that seemed like it was exactly what he was going to do. Like he was promising me, at dinner, that he was going to wait for me. And as unfair as it is, and even though I didn’t ask him to do that, seeing him with that woman tonight felt like a betrayal.

We’ll talk about it later, I tell myself. I’ll stay off of that site, and I’ll wait until tomorrow, when Ivan and I can talk about it outside of the heated environment that we found ourselves in tonight.

I feel sure that we’ll figure it out then, and it will all be fine.

I just need to talk to him.