"I'm gonna go. Take care of yourself." Alex hesitated, cursed himself silently, then leaned in anyway. His lips brushed her cheek.
Then he pulled back and turned before she could say anything, and walked out with his shoulders locked tight and his hands clenched into fists.
He scanned the street immediately. No sign of Daniel.
The Mercedes door opened and he slid inside.
"Fred?" he said without lifting his head. "Find someone to keep an eye on her."
"Understood, sir."
****
Eva stood frozen in the center of her kitchen. Slowly, her gaze drifted to the kitchen table.
And instantly, heat bloomed low in her stomach.
"Oh, fuck," she muttered, closing her eyes.
She reopened them and faced the crime scene. The kitchen table. God help her. Innocent wood turned into a damn trigger. She could see it all too clearly. Feel it. She'd been right there. Legs dangling. Back arched. Hair a mess. Mouth open, breath wrecked, pleasure stealing every thought that wasn't him. She pressed her thighs together, cursed again, and dragged in a shaky breath.
Her skin still remembered his hands. Her body answered the memory traitorously, warmth spreading, pulse quickening.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
"Get it together," she whispered.
But the kitchen felt charged now. Every surface a reminder of how she'd lost herself completely. To him. She wasn't sure she regretted it.
Not even a little.
Her fingers brushed her lips unconsciously. It had been so long. She had forgotten what it felt like to be wanted.
She sighed, and forced herself to move. She crossed to the counter where her bag lay abandoned, a careless afterthought from a moment she wished she could rewind and freeze at the same time. Her phone was half buried inside, screen dark and accusing. She fished it out, fingers clumsy.
The screen lit up.
Twenty missed calls from Brian.
Her heart slammed hard against her ribs, knocking the breath clean out of her lungs. Twenty? Her mouth went dry instantly.
Twenty.
Her thoughts spiraled. What if it was about her son? What if they'd found him? Or worse—what if something had gone wrong and she hadn't answered? What if she'd missed the call that mattered because she'd been distracted by heat, by want, by Alex's cock?
She clutched the phone to her chest, pressing it hard against her sternum. Nausea curled low in her belly.
If she'd missed that call because she was getting her brains fucked out, then she truly was the worst mother alive.
How dare she feel pleasure when her son was still out there somewhere?
"Oh God…" she whispered. Her fingers trembled as she hit redial. Her pulse thudded in her ears. The phone rang.
He picked up immediately. "Where the hell have you been?"
She swallowed, forcing air into her lungs. "What's going on?" she asked quickly. Her free hand pressed to the counter.
"What the hell are you doing with Alexander Baldwin?" Brian shot back.
The picture.
"Yeah," Eva said slowly, glancing toward the window. "He's Mary's stepbrother. I went to her grave site this afternoon and met him there."
"Alexander Baldwin is Mary's brother??"
"Brian," she said, frustration creeping in now. "What is going on?"
"Do you not know him?"
"I mean…" She hesitated, suddenly and painfully aware of how little she actually did know. "His last name rang a bell because Mary had the same name before she got married."
"Eva," Brian said slowly. "Alex is the CEO of Norland Finance Management."
She stopped breathing.
Her ears rang. Her heartbeat roared. The world tilted.
Her eyes slid back to the table.
The table.
The very one she had been sprawled on not long ago. Where he had made her forget grief and fear and common fucking sense. Where he had dragged pleasure out of her in slow, devastating waves until she'd seen heaven, earth, and a few planets in between.
Her knees weakened and she leaned harder into the counter.
The phone was still pressed to her ear. Brian was still talking.
"Oh… my… God." I just got fucked by one of the wealthiest men in the country on my kitchen table.
"Wait!" Her head snapped up suddenly, a new wave of panic cutting through the haze. Her pulse spiked. "Is he married?"
She turned back toward the counter, pacing now, bare feet whispering against the floor.
"Not that I know of. His life is very private though. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing," she said far too quickly.
Then it was Brian's turn to gasp. "Oh… my God!" he exclaimed. "You got fucked. You got fucked… by Alexander Baldwin."
She winced and squeezed her eyes shut, already imagining his face.
"Was he good?" Brian demanded, breathless now. "Please… tell me he was good. Lie to me if you have to, but for the love of my sanity, tell me he was good."
Her body answered before her pride could stop it. Her mouth opened and the truth flew out.
"It was great!"
Her eyes widened in horror and she slapped a hand over her mouth, heat flooding her cheeks. It had been great. More than great.
"I knew it!" Brian practically shouted into the phone, delight vibrating through every syllable. "I knew it. I am at a shoot at the moment, but when I get back, we are definitely talking all about it. Every. Single. Detail. Damn, girl!"
*****
Eva stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down her blue gown with hands that trembled more than she liked to admit. The fabric flowed. It hugged her in all the right places and gave her the illusion that her heart wasn't currently a mangled mess.
Brian had finally convinced her to be his plus one at the birthday party of the mayor's son. Apparently, even wildly successful actors struggled with bringing real dates to social functions.
She still wasn't sure she was ready for the spotlight again, but for Brian, she'd step into fire. Or worse: public scrutiny.
He had promised there would be no press.
So, she'd said yes.