“Yeah,” Weyland replies drily. “Me too.”
I curl my arm around her and lead her outside, leaving Weyland at the table. Once we’re inside the elevator, she whirls around to face me.
“What was that about?”
I know what she means. “What exactly?” I ask in a silky voice.
“Coming here. Kissing me in front of Jack.” She scowls. “Acting as if I did something wrong by going out—”
She looks flustered. She has since I kissed her. The words spill out of her, and I let her talk, only interrupting when she’s almost out of steam.
“I wasn’t aware my actions were so out of place. I came here because I wanted to see you and I was tired of waiting. I kissed you because I wanted to.” I study her face. “What exactly is the problem? That I interrupted your reunion with your boyfriend?”
Her eyes skip away from mine. Is she shocked? Did she think I wouldn’t know who he was? The elevator doors slide open and she follows me to the entrance.
“I came in one of the Rosemont cars,” she declares stubbornly, as if she would rather not share a ride with me.
I open the door for her. “Your driver has already returned.”
She enters the car with a sigh. When I join her, her arms are folded over her chest. “First of all,” she tells me, “Jack’s not my boyfriend. Secondly, I don’t think it was necessary for you to flaunt our…arrangement in his face like that.”
Because she’s still in love with him? Because there’s a limit to how jealous she’s willing to make him? How far she’s ready to push him?
Because she loves him?
I pull in a breath to soothe the wild flare of jealousy in my chest. “Why do you care so much? What is he to you?”
“It’s not about him.”
“Isn’t it?” I don’t want to talk about her ex, or to acknowledge his existence and his hold on her emotions. I hate the way it makes me feel. “I seem to recall that exclusivity was one of your conditions for agreeing to this arrangement. Did that particular condition apply only to me? Am I supposed to sit back and accept the fact that you went out with him, the same man with whom you had a fight in my hotel the day we met? He’s the reason you were crying in the elevator, and he came all the way here to see you.” My lips curl. “Talk about a grand gesture.”
Her shocked expression is almost comical. That’s right. I know everything.
“Security cameras, Rachel.” I shrug. “How do you think I found you? I had dinner with my brother that night. He was trying to convince me that hookers were a better deal than relationships, and he offered to send me one. I refused. When you appeared in the elevator, I thought he’d ignored me, as usual. You didn’t leave your number, and I couldn’t get you out of my mind. So, I called him, and it turned out he had no idea what I was talking about. I had the security team at the hotel review the tapes to find out who you were, and I saw them too. I saw your argument with Jack Weyland, and I saw how distressed you were afterward.”
She’s quiet.
“Did he come here to apologize?” I continue, a taunting edge to my voice. “Am I standing in the way of some romantic reunion?”
“Would you care?” she snaps.
Isn’t it obvious that I do? I care, much more than I should. “No,” I lie. “Let’s just be clear, for as long as this arrangement lasts, I have every right to be extremely selfish when it comes to you. I don’t give a fuck about what he wants, because right now, you belong to me.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” she replies. “I sure as hell don’t belong to you.”
The surge of possessiveness that kicked in when I saw her with Weyland rises again. I place a finger under her chin and lift her face to mine. “Unless you’re telling me you want to stop this, to end this…arrangement right now, then you belong to me.” I hold her gaze. “Is that what you want?”
She’s silent. Have I read her wrong? Is she going to throw my blasted arrangement back in my face?
Her eyes fall from mine and she shakes her head.
I taste the sweetness of triumph, but it’s not as satisfactory as I want it to be.
“Say it,” I demand.
“No,” she whispers. “Th
at’s not what I want.”