The Wildcard

Chapter Nineteen

I was all in.

Throwing my Chanel onto the backseat, I climbed in, cranking up the volume on the radio.

“Notorious B.I.G?” I looked over at him with an eyebrow quirked, “Well, aren’t you just the walking cliché?”

“What can I say?” he snickered back, reversing out of the ‘parking’ spot like a Formula One professional, “I love it when you call me Big Pa – Pa.”

“Oh God,” I rolled my eyes facetiously, my fingernails already digging into the sleek leather seats.

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Cayden stopped the car in front of one of the most luxurious hotels I’d ever seen in my life; white bricked, with a stark contemporary lettering spelling out The Gray in a gold font over the glass entrance, it loomed over the busy sidewalk like a temple.

He leaned over me, reaching into the glove compartment for his wallet ostensibly, but I felt his breath on my neck – warm and moist – and it sent my pulse rocketing to a break-neck speed. I felt the almost imperceptible stiffening in his body, and knew he felt the exact same reaction to the proximity of our bodies.

“Holy shit,” he muttered hoarsely into the juncture between my neck and my shoulder, “We should have gone somewhere first – met in the office or something – how the fuck am I meant to keep my hands off you through lunch?”

I caught his gaze with mine, trying to tell him that I felt exactly the same without any words, because I knew I’d never have the courage. But the telling darkening in his eyes instantly boosted my courage as I caught his lightly rasping jaw with my palm.

“There’s always room service?” I gestured down to my Topshop shift dress sheepishly, “I don’t know how well I’d fit in here – they probably wouldn’t want the likes of me at their dinner tables anyway.”

I had no problem with swanky places – as long as I had on my armour, as long as I was coached beforehand.

His pale eyes were intense for a minute – running over my features carefully.

“I think I must have dreamt you,” he murmured, “You’re so fucking perfect you were basically created to rock my world on its axis. But don’t worry about what any of those assholes in there are thinking – they don’t care for me much either.”

I guess they wouldn’t. My eyes drifted back over to the hotel – the footmen all dressed in white nervously waiting outside the car for valet. It was a place where the middle class could go to validate themselves and their menial lives after a game of golf and a hard day at the office. I wondered how Cayden had ever even heard of the place.

“So, what would be the point? If we’d both be uncomfortable?”

“We won’t be,” he shrugged, climbing out of the car, “I’m making an observation, I didn’t say I gave a shit.”