Page 17 of Home to Me (The Andrades 2)
“Can you hear yourself? How long will you let them dictate how you live your life?”
“What would be better? Becoming like you? At least I’m close to my family.”
Nick rested his chin on her forehead. “Ouch.”
Rena wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was awful.”
Nick sighed. “No, it was honest.” He dropped his arms and stepped back from her. “Go get your laptop. I do need to be updated on the project.”
Rena hesitated. “Nick, I . . .”
He grit his teeth. He was done talking about what Rena did or didn’t want. The mere mention of his family was already souring his mood. “The notes, Rena. Get your fucking notes.”
Chapter Eight
A week later, Rena was dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt, cleaning her house and swearing as she did. Sure, I told Nick that I couldn’t see him outside of work again. Yes, I reiterated that what we’d done was a one-time deal and absolutely could not be repeated. Okay, so my last parting words to him when I left the coffee shop were that it was best if we both tried to forget that anything had happened.
But did he have to listen to me so completely?
Bastard.
Nick had been in and out of Rena’s office all week as he’d confirmed the details for his meeting with Durkin and the congressman. Never once had he been anything less than professional. He’d come in the morning of the meeting to pick up some paperwork and had smiled briefly when she’d wished him luck.
Even the flowers he’d sent on Friday, a perfectly appropriate bouquet of white roses, had blandly said, “Thank you for all your help on the Durkin project.”
Jackass.
It was supposed to be as hard for him to move on as it was proving for her. Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined him pulling her to him, his hot kisses on her neck, his cock thrusting inside her. Every time she saw him she wanted to run up to him and tell him she’d been a complete idiot. Tell whoever you want, whatever you want—just don’t smile at me like what we did didn’t matter.
Rena almost knocked over a lamp, then righted it at the last moment. What is wrong with me? I don’t agree with casual sex. Well, maybe for others, but not for me.
She half closed her eyes and remembered what it was like to be lifted onto the counter of the coffee shop. She played back every touch, every sensation from that day with painful vividness. Nothing in her prior relationships had compared to what she’d experienced with Nick.
There had been nothing casual about that.
That was primal.
Consuming.
Heaven.
Rena shook her head. And, apparently, completely forgettable for someone like Nick.
Asshole.
Adding salt to her wound, Janet now regularly floated in and out of Rena’s office. At first it was for advice. Then she’d dropped in to thank Rena for the advice. Now, she was beginning to stop by as if the two of them were friends.
“Want to go to lunch?”
“I’d rather staple my finger to my forehead,” was what Rena wanted to say, but she made up excuses why she was busy instead. There was nothing outwardly dislikable about the young woman, but Rena feared she would stab her with a cafeteria fork if she said Nick’s name one more time.
In the beginning, Janet had at least called him Mr. Andrade, but more and more she slipped and called him by his first name. “Nick would like a copy of this report . . . Nick wanted to make sure you received the geo map from the surveyors . . . Nick. Nick. Nick.”
The doorbell to Rena’s house rang and she jumped, this time sending the lamp crashing to the floor. She gave herself the luxury of a quick glance in the mirror, but what she saw didn’t please her. Her eyes looked tired and her hair was tangled. I’m a mess.
She peered out the peephole on her door. A young man dressed in a delivery service uniform stood there with an envelope in his hands.
She opened the door. “Hello.”
“Are you Ms. Sander?”
“Yes.”
“This is for you.”
“Who is it from?”
“He didn’t say.”
Rena took the envelope in her hand and weighed it thoughtfully. “Do you know what it is?”
“No, ma’am,” the boy said and waited.
“Oh,” Rena said. “Hang on.” She returned with a tip, then closed the door when he’d left. There was no writing on the outside of the envelope.
She opened it.
It contained one box seat ticket to that night’s performance of Aida. Rena thought of who might have invited her. She didn’t remember anyone asking, plus why wouldn’t they hold onto the ticket if she were going with them?
There wasn’t even a note.
It didn’t make any sense and felt more like a game than a gift.
Nick.
Rena shivered with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Was this his way of showing he was still interested in her? He wanted to take her out for a real date?
Was the opera his idea of a high-class, in-your-face announcement that they were together?
But we aren’t—together, that is.
Even as she located her phone and readied it to text, she reminded herself of all the reasons why seeing Nick again would only cause trouble with both of their families. Gio would assume Nick was seeing her for nefarious reasons. Nick would risk losing Gio’s trust. Kane and her parents would never approve. Kane would overreact—along with Gio.
There goes my job.
Am I ready for that?
Of course, the ticket might not even be from Nick and I could be worrying about nothing.
Rena texted her question: Did you send me something via messenger?
She held her breath and waited for his response.
Yes.
Since when do you like opera?
I don’t. I find it boring.
So, why invite me?
Because you don’t like it either. Which makes it perfect.
I love opera. I’ve been many times.
Your parents love it. You go to make them happy.
Nick’s insight into what motivated Rena was unsettling. I never said that.
You never had to. I know you better than you think I do.
His text sent a confusing rush of pleasure through her. She didn’t enjoy opera, but her parents loved taking her so she’d never said a word about it. He does know me, even the parts of me I try to deny.
His next text came before she had time to answer his last: Come to Aida tonight. Wear the dress I’m having delivered to you.
Nick, if we’re seen together in public—
Do you trust me?
It wasn’t an easy question to answer. She’d known him for most of her life. He was impulsive and often defiant in the face of authority, but he’d never involved her in anything he thought could hurt her. I do trust you, but . . .
Text me when you get there.
She wanted to say yes so much that not doing
so brought a shine of tears to her eyes. His persistence forced her to face the largest hurdle between them: her fear. She grasped for a safer alternative: I don’t know, Nick. Maybe if we went somewhere more private.
He didn’t respond.
She added: We shouldn’t do this at all.
No answer.
Finally, she typed, I’m not going, and dropped the phone into her bathrobe pocket. Jerk.
A few minutes later her doorbell rang again and another messenger delivered a large black-and-white box. Hugging the package in her arms, she spoke to her empty living room. “You are making it very hard for me to say no, Nick.”
She laid the box on her couch and held its contents out in front of her. It was a strapless, floor-length shimmering blue gown with a slit cut high up one thigh. The material was light and designed to cling. It was definitely sexier than anything she would have chosen for herself.
Her phone beeped with an incoming message: Do you like it?
She typed back: It’s not my style.
Try it on.
It’s too small.
Tell me how you look in it.
Rena shook her head, then relented. She could argue it out with him, but part of her wanted to see how it would look on her. She stepped out of her clothing and slid the dress over her head. It fit her perfectly but left very little, if anything, to the imagination. She’d worn plenty of gowns in her life, but never one like this. The thin material hugged her curves intimately, bordering on indecently. I can’t wear it in public. I’d feel . . . She almost said naked, but stopped herself. Ridiculous. It barely covers anything.
Sounds perfect.
For someone you’d hire for the night, but not for me.
So prudish. I love that side of you. You will wear it for me. You know why? Because we both know you want to.
Rena looked in the mirror and bit her bottom lip. Her nipples puckered beneath the thin material. Her eyes looked wild with desire and her cheeks were flushed pink. Saying no made sense, but saying yes was what she craved.
What are we doing, Nick?
