I did love Matt. No matter where our marriage and relationship would eventually go, I would always love him—if for no other reason than the fact that he was heartbreakingly in love with me. I could screw William Winthorpe on the middle of Matt’s desk and he’d still take me back. Beg me to stay. Bring me flowers and believe that I deserved them. With that sort of unwavering loyalty and security, why wouldn’t I stray?
My first affair was so innocent. Lust plus opportunity equals sex. It was quick, dirty, and pointless, the excitement fading as soon as the man returned to his twenty-two-year-old girlfriend.
The next lasted longer. A series of midday meetings, my enjoyment heightening as the affair grew deeper. When it ended, I immediately returned to the hunt, addicted to the tumultuous risk.
Matt’s younger and better-looking brother was next, and the close proximity fueled my arousal to new levels. After our first time together, he cried, dismayed at what he’d done—and I’d never felt so empowered. After all, what better ego boost than to know that a man had risked his most crucial relationship to be with you?
I watched as William Winthorpe rounded the bend in the trail, his head dropped in thought. He was a man of habit, and I quickened my pace, wanting to meet him before he moved past the services center that housed, among other things, a restaurant.
William was a man with everything to lose. The perfect wife. The perfect life. The reputation of the community, of his businesses, and of his charity foundation. Would he risk any of it for me?
Mark had been a feather in my cap. Ned Plymouth, a million-dollar payday. An affair with William Winthorpe would overshadow them both by leaps and bounds. At just the thought, my thighs tightened, my breathing shallowed, and I struggled to walk slowly, casually, as the distance between us shortened.
“Neena.” He came to a sudden stop. “What are you doing out here?”
“Needed to clear my head.” I glanced around, pleased to see that the path was empty. “The fresh air helps.”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
I nodded to the sleek glass building beside us, a smaller version of the Winthorpe tower, and one that contained a small bistro. “I was actually about to stop in and grab something to eat. Have you had lunch?” I knew he hadn’t. His schedule, like everything else in his life, was precise. A long walk at eleven thirty, followed by lunch. Afternoon meetings, then home by seven. Tick. Tock. Every day. Was the monotony killing him yet?
“Not yet.” He glanced at the building, hesitating.
“They have a killer grilled-cheese sandwich,” I offered. “You have to try it.” I took a few steps backward toward the entrance and gave him a teasing smile. “Come on ...”
“Grilled cheese?” He squinted at me. “I thought you were no carb.”
“I like to cheat every once in a while.” I winked at him and could tell the moment when his resolve wavered. The fun side always got to them. Dark and tempting was intriguing, but light and happy paired with breathless admiration was the strong cocktail that fed bad decisions. An unexpected combination of the two and I’d have him naked in my bed within the month.
He glanced at his watch, and I turned away, striding up the hill and toward the building, my best asset showcased to perfection in my three-inch heels. “Come on!” I called out, not giving him the chance to decline.
By the time I reached for the door handle, he was there, his hand on the small of my back, ushering me inside with the manners of a true gentleman. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to hold back my grin.
My father once held a drinking contest with me. Death in the Afternoon was the drink. Getting to leave the bar was the prize. Winning was accomplished by continuing to drink until the other passed out or vomited. I was thirteen, and the bartender liked my tits. He told my father that on our third drink, and a meaty grope of them paid for our fourth. I vomited ten minutes later, my hair held back by that same bartender as his hands squeezed each tiny breast as if pumping them for milk.
Breast implants were one of the first things Matt paid for, my second augmentation and size upgrade footed by Ned. I had lost all sensation in my nipples from the surgeries, yet I could still remember the rough pinch of that bartender’s hands.
“Did you want to sit in the bar?” William followed my gaze, which was stuck to the bar, the memories of the drinking contest still raw in my mind.
“Ah, no.” I ripped my gaze away from the dark space and quickly nodded at a table by the window. “How about that one?”
“Works for me.”
We settled in, an awkward silence falling, and I forced a self-deprecating wince. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous.”
“Nervous?” He laughed, the rigid tension leaving his posture, and smoothed down the front of his tie. “Why?”
“I don’t know. You’re very powerful. And, quite frankly, brilliant. I didn’t realize how much so until I had a chance to see you in action, at the office.” I picked at the edge of my menu, then blushed. “It’s intimidating.”
“We’ve had meetings before. You never seemed intimidated then.”
“Well, I don’t know.” I laughed. “It’s different outside the office. No glass walls to hide behind.”
He smiled. “The walls were actually Cat’s idea. She liked the open feel that they created.”
“The open feel?” I winced. “I’m not sure that’s how the staff sees them.”
He raised an eyebrow in question.