Chapter 101: Guilty Pleasures

Something clicked. For heaven’s sake, he hoped his instincts were wrong.

"A few weeks ago, I found my wife with bruises on her face. Something about you tells me you probably are capable of something like that. Did you hit her?"

Richard held his gaze without flinching. "And why would I do that?"

"Someone hit my wife," Dorian said quietly. "I do not plan to forget it. When I finally find out who it is..." He let the sentence hang.

No need to finish it. Some promises were more effective unfinished. Richard stared back at him. Dorian stayed where he was, studying every tiny reaction.

Unfortunately, Richard had already proven within the last ten minutes that he could lie excellently well.

Dorian couldn’t tell whether he was looking at guilt or genuine confusion. He was usually better at reading people.

Maybe his mood was affecting him. Maybe Naomi was affecting him. Dorian finally stepped back.

"If you want to get to know me better, invite me to dinner." Dorian raised a brow. "Or does only Callum get that privilege?"

There was just enough sarcasm in it to make the question land. He wasn’t actually expecting an answer.

He certainly wasn’t fishing for an invitation. Although some petty part of him still found it deeply irritating that Callum Sterling apparently had unrestricted access to family dinners while Naomi’s actual husband was treated like an unsuitable guest.

He was thirty-eight years old, a partner at one of New York’s most respected firms, and somehow Callum attending Sunday dinner had managed to offend him on a level he didn’t particularly want to examine. He turned toward the door. "Have a nice day, Mr Whitmore."

Then he left.

Richard remained perfectly still for several seconds. His face soured even deeper. Victor Sterling had been right.

Dorian Heathcliffe was exactly the kind of man you did not poke unless you were prepared for him to start pulling at everything.

He walked back toward his desk, anger crawling beneath his skin. He needed to switch lanes immediately.

The direct approach was too dangerous now. Following Dorian had been a mistake. Mercer had been an even bigger mistake.

The pressure needed to increase. Naomi needed to move toward Callum. The paperwork needed to get signed before Dorian decided to do exactly what he had threatened and shove himself so far into Richard’s affairs that nothing remained private.

One loose thread. That was all a man like Dorian needed. Victor had warned him. Now Richard finally understood why.

Of all the men in Vegas, Naomi got married to the man who could undo him.

Fucking bitch.

*****

"Listen, we have to stop this madness, Rina. Come on." Jordan kept his voice low even though his office door was closed. "I’m still shocked my wife hasn’t heard anything. Naomi is her best friend."

Sabrina pouted at him. Then she reached for his tie. Jordan barely had time to react before she wrapped it around her fingers and pulled him toward her. "You know you still want me, Jordan." Her mouth curved. "I am your guilty pleasure."

"Just go back to your post, and we can talk about this later."

Sabrina’s pout disappeared. "My place?" She tugged him closer and slowly ran her tongue from one side of his lips to the other.

Jordan pulled back. "No! Rina."

"Then where?"

"I said later. Just go, and I’ll let you know where."

The desk phone rang. Jordan nearly jumped out of his skin. He hurried behind his desk and hit the speaker button.

"Yes?"

The receptionist’s voice came through. "Mr Morgan, a Miss Naomi Bennett is here to see you."

Jordan stopped breathing. His eyes widened.

No.

Absolutely fucking not.

Of all the people who could have walked into the hotel today, it had to be Naomi. The woman who had already caught him with Sabrina once.

Jordan glanced at Sabrina. He was quite literally trapped. She couldn’t simply leave. To get out of his office, she would have to walk straight past Naomi.

And considering Naomi already knew exactly what Sabrina looked like, that would send the worst possible message.

"Hide," Jordan whispered urgently.

"What?"

"Hide!"

Her eyes darted around the office. "Where?! There is nowhere to hide!"

Jordan looked around too. Nothing remotely useful unless Sabrina suddenly developed the ability to fold herself into a filing drawer. His gaze landed on the curtains beside the window. "There."

"You cannot be serious."

"Behind the curtains. Go! Go! Go!" He hurried around the desk and practically shoved her toward the window.

Sabrina stumbled forward, shooting him a furious look as she slipped behind the heavy curtains. Jordan adjusted them quickly, took a breath, straightened his tie and hurried behind his desk again.

He returned to the call. "Send her in."

A few moments later, there was a knock. Naomi walked into the office. Jordan immediately put on what he hoped was a casual smile.

Her eyes moved over him. Jordan was an operations manager in a hotel, his office wasn’t wealthy but it was quite alright for his position.

"Naomi!" Jordan called.

Naomi maintained the frozen expression she had walked in with. She hadn’t come here to smile. And she definitely hadn’t come here to hear some rehearsed speech about how complicated everything was. "I considered telling your wife what I saw, Jordan."

"Listen, Naomi..." Jordan rounded the desk and walked toward her. "I love my wife, okay? There is no question about that."

The compulsory opening statement from men caught doing things that did not look particularly loving.

"Yeah, it’s always the same drivel you men spin." Naomi folded her arms. "You all should find another hook." She lifted a hand. "I didn’t come here to listen to excuses. What I came here to say is that she is pregnant. And I am thinking about her child because the Tessa that I know will not tolerate you cheating."

"She will not excuse it away because you tell her you love her. She will not pretend it didn’t happen just because you apologise. And now she has a baby on the way to think about."

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