15. Blake

CHAPTER 15

Blake

T hat first, dramatic show of a kiss was planned—this one is not. After letting her up, I simply had to come back for one more taste of her sweet lips. Except this isn’t a taste, it’s an indulgence. One I reluctantly put to an end after several long, exquisite seconds.

We reclaim our seats, everyone else in the restaurant goes back to their own business now that the show’s over.

“What do you think of it?” I ask, motioning to her engagement ring.

She lifts her hand, gently rocking it and watching the diamond glimmer in the light. “It’s… breathtaking.” Her smile sags, and I lean forward.

“What’s the matter?” I demand to know.

“Oh, nothing.” The corners of her lips turn up, but the mirth doesn’t reach her beautiful eyes anymore.

“It’s something. Tell me.”

“It’s silly.”

“I don’t care how silly it is. Tell me.”

She bites her full bottom lip, snagging my attention. With a sigh, she quietly says, “I was just thinking about how gorgeous it is, and how it’s too bad I’ll have to give it back to you when this is all over.”

“Give it back?” I frown. “Why would you give it back to me? I have no use for it. Its only use is to adorn your finger.”

Her gaze darts to mine. “Why wouldn’t I give it back? Isn’t this some family heirloom or something? You’ll want to keep it in the Baron estate and pass it on to someone else.”

A slow grin spreads my lips as realization dawns. “No, it’s not a family piece. I had it custom made. Don’t get me wrong, I looked through the family jewels but couldn’t find anything suitable. So I went to Macon Jewelers and had them create a piece suitable for my little magpie. That’s yours. Created specifically for you. You’re keeping it.”

She’s literally gaping at me, mouth open. “Wait. What? ”

“Did I slur? It’s yours. Custom made by Macon. You get to keep it.”

“You got Macon to make you a ring in less than a month? It takes months to even get on their schedule, and that’s if they agree to take you on as a customer.”

Of everything, that’s what she’s fixated on? My jeweler’s turnaround time?

I shrug one shoulder. “They owed me a favor.”

She huffs a laugh. Her attention returns to the forty-four carat, round cut solitaire engagement ring.

“I get to keep it.” Awe colors her tone. She glances at me and beams. “I get to keep it! Thank you. Thank you so much. It’s… I don’t even have the right words to describe it.”

“Magpie-worthy?”

Gin laughs. “What’s with the magpies? Is it because of your grandpa’s figurine that I… tried to liberate?”

“Only partially.” I lean back in my chair, amusement flowing through my chest. “It’s because you love shiny objects. The myth is that magpies steal shiny things, just like you.”

“Myth?”

“Yes. The bird is actually afraid of pretty much anything flashy, including shiny things, but the myth lives on regardless.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that.”

“It’s pointless information really.” I wave our server over. “Would you like a nightcap?”

“Sure. I’ll have a lemon drop.”

I grunt at her choice of the sugar-rimmed drink, and order myself a whiskey, neat. Neither of us really needs another drink, but we’re celebrating tonight, so we can indulge a little. After all, we’re recently engaged.

“Tell me about your family,” Gin says when our drinks arrive.

Her inquiry catches me off guard. I’m hesitant to divulge too much information about my relatives, but she’ll be subjected to them all soon enough. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. I’ll be joining your family soon, so I feel like I should know at least something about them.”

“You’ve met my younger brother, Liam, at numerous events.”

“Yeah. I know of him, but we’re just acquaintances. He’s always been polite but aloof.”

“I see. He graduates from college next month, then he’s set to inherit my family’s real estate development company, Titan Enterprises.”

“So nepotism is alive and well.”

I snort a laugh. “It is indeed.”

“If that’s his inheritance, then what’s yours?” She sips her lemon drop.

“That’s not important. Besides Liam, I have a step-sister who’s about your age. Her name’s Lexa. She’s quiet and sweet.” I take a swig of whiskey. “That’s pretty much all you need to know about her. Then there’s Yve, my wicked step-mother. It’s best if you avoid her at all costs.”

“Oh?” She quirks a brow. “Why’s that?”

“She is evil incarnate. A manipulative, terrible woman. If you come within her sphere of influence she will relentlessly use you for her own gains. That’s a warning, Gin. You’d do well to heed it. Avoid her throughout our marriage and you’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Gin finishes her drink. “I heard your father passed a few years ago.”

I give her a curt nod. Everyone seems too aware of the late Mr. Baron’s demise. His abrupt end startled much of Manhattan society and started the rumor mill going. Some people assume a rival took out his fishing boat—with him on it. Others think it was an unfortunate accident. But, oddly enough, no one voices their suspicions of, or accuses, his sweet young wife, Yve.

Only I seem to see the blood on her hands.

Abruptly, I stand and down the rest of my whisky. “We should go.”

Gin rises from her seat and sways. I catch her against my chest, steadying her on her feet. I note her flushed skin and glassy eyes. She’s obviously had a bit too much to drink, so I hold her against my side as we make our way out of the dining room.

By the time we get upstairs, she’s hugging my middle and giggling—over nothing, as far as I can tell.

“What’s so funny?”

She lifts her hand, showing me her glittering engagement ring. “We’re getting married.” More giggles. “That’s just crazy!”

“If you say so,” I mutter, letting us into our suite. Gin’s feet drag and she’s grown more unsteady, so I pick her up bridal style and carry her into our bedroom.

“You’re so strong,” she slurs against my chest. “Do you work out?”

“Yes, obviously.”

She hums with approval. “Mm, and you smell so good.”

I glance down to find her sniffing my neck. My blood heats when her tongue darts out and leaves a hot, wet trail from my collar bone to my chin. She just fucking licked me. And I liked it .

She’s drunk, I remind myself. All of her inhibitions are obliterated.

I drop her onto the bed and she lands with a soft huff. We both need to sober up.

Going into the bathroom, I get her a glass of water, and when I return she’s stripped down to a pair of lace panties and a bra. My gaze travels over her stunning body, taking in the smoothness of her skin and delicious curves. The sight goes straight to my dick.

“Drink this.” I sit on the edge of the bed and thrust the water glass toward her. Thankfully, she takes it and downs the liquid in one go. She sets the glass on the nightstand, and before I know it she’s in my lap, straddling my thighs.

“Gin. Don’t.” I wrap my hands around her waist to lift her off, but she clings to me like a feral cat.

“Why?” Her breath warms my neck. She peppers my skin with open-mouthed kisses.

“Because you’re drunk. Because I don’t want you to have another panic attack.”

She giggles, grinning up at me. “I’m fine. Really. We should have some fun. Touch me, Blake.”

The temptation is strong. She’s throwing herself at me, grinding herself against my achingly hard cock, and all I want to do is bury myself in her sweet cunt.

Which sets off alarm bells in my mind.

“You’re not fine, you’re drunk,” I finally tell her.

“Same difference.”

The alarm bells are now accompanied by flashing red lights. Something’s not right, but I can’t put my finger on what exactly. I’ve fucked drunk women before. Sober, drunk, doesn’t really matter to me so long as I know they’re willing and they sign an NDA before things get too interesting.

But with Gin… her entire demeanor changes when she’s intoxicated. I barely know this person.

When I touched her clit through her clothes she spiraled fast. Then when I ate her pussy she was shy and uncertain. But in the car after the club, and now, she’s living up to her reputation as a horny, eager, confident woman who wants to get fucked.

And I’m not buying it. Something’s off. Which version is the real Gin?

I come back around to the thought that she only wants sex when she’s trashed, when she has temporarily silenced her demons.

Her small hands are inside my shirt as she sucks on my neck. I swallow hard, warring with the side of myself that wants to throw caution to the wind—not to mention our agreement to only have sex after we’re married—and fuck her now. She’s so damn eager. And I’m so fucking hard that it hurts.

But somehow, my moral and heroic side wins out. Fucking pathetic . I didn’t realize that part of me still existed. It hasn’t shown itself in years.

“Gin, that’s enough.” My harsh tone gets through the haze clouding her brain. She freezes on my lap. “I’m not fucking you when you’re drunk. Now go to bed.”

Pushing her away, I make a beeline for the door and don’t glance back. I can’t. She’s too tempting.