Page 68 of Broken Lies
I don’t risk glancing at her, but I can feel the shift in the air.
She was probably expecting a compliment from me, but I don’t give it to her. Ican’t,no matter how badly I wish I could. So, instead, I say nothing.
We walk in silence as we make our way out of the hotel, where we’re immediately sucked into the neon-lit chaos of the Strip.
There are drunk people everywhere, laughing and yelling over the music, and sirens race past us in a blur of flashing lights.It’s a sensory overload, and I even feel a little overwhelmed as we get lost in the swarm on the way to the restaurant.
I don’t even realize I’ve reached down and taken hold of Riley’s hand until I feel her eyes on me.
I note the look of surprise in her face. “What?”
She glances down, and I do the same, and that’s when I see her small fingers intertwined with my own, and dammit does it feel right to see them there.
“I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”
It’s not a lie, but it’s also not my only motivation. Something about holding onto her hand makes the noise of the Strip feel a little quieter.
I try not to think of how soft and warm her skin feels, or how she doesn’t have any callouses on her palms. But I do notice the way she tightens her hold when we pass a particularly rowdy stag party, and I pull her closer until her arm is pressed up against mine.
She doesn’t let go, and neither do I, which is not a good sign because I’m quickly learning that I can’t think anything about Riley or I’ll quickly lose the little control that I have left.
Every time I sneak a look at her, her eyes are wide with a mixture of awe and panic.
I was planning on taking her to one of the main restaurants along the Strip, but at the last second, I pull us through the crowd and lead her down a side street toward a small Italian restaurant that is tucked away between two bigger hotels.
It’s still overflowing with people sitting at the outside tables, but it’s quieter compared to the Strip, and the smells radiating from the place have my mouth watering.
“Italian okay?”
“Oh, hell yes.” Riley sighs.
I chuckle under my breath as she inhales deeply, savoring the smell of garlic and basil that lingers in the air.
For a moment, I let myself look at her, and for the first time since we left my penthouse this morning, I feel like I can breathe.
I sneak a few bills to the waiter and get us an outside table so we can people-watch as well as order a bottle of champagne. It’s not normally my drink of choice, but it feels like something I should be drinking when I’m pretending to be in love.
Riley is quiet even after the waiter disappears after pouring us both a drink.
My glass remains on the table, untouched, but I watch Riley down half of her glass before we even get the breadbasket.
She’s nervous, and it’s downright adorable.
I lean forward and reach across the table to place my hand over hers.
She jumps at the contact, which I try not to take as a personal insult, but she makes no attempt to pull away.
“Relax. I told you I would do better, remember?”
She cautiously searches my face, but when I squeeze her hand, everything about her softens, and she offers me a small nod. “Okay.”
And just like that, the air shifts between us once again.
Riley is the most relaxed she’s been around me since she first showed up on my doorstep, and I find the conversation flows naturally between us. While I asked her a ton of questions the last time we shared a meal, it was more because I didn’t want her asking anything about me. It was a way to keep her talking so that I didn’t have to.
But tonight is different. I find myself asking questions because I genuinely want to know the answer and not because I want a way to fill the silence.
“So, after you graduate from college with honors because of your incredibly smart and sexy tutor, what do you plan on doing?”
