“She forgot...” Angelo paused.
Lane’s stomach dropped at the look Angelo slanted towards her. You do the honors, my Lane, those silvery eyes told her.
Sadist, she thought.
Angelo raised a brow.
Oh gosh. Knowing she would only be punished later on, she mumbled, “It’s because I forgot to...” She stopped, unable to get the words out. It was just so embarrassing. She looked pleadingly at Angelo.
But he only leaned back on his chair, as if enjoying a show.
Sadist, she thought again. It was just too bad that she loved him all the more for it.
Lowering her gaze to her lap, she forced the words out. “I forgot to k-kiss him hi when I g-got here.”
Silence.
And then Dylan coughed. “That’s, umm, unfortunate.” He looked at Angelo, marveling silently at how sadistic the man was, in a—-
It wasn’t exactly cruel or distasteful.
It was almost...sweet?
He mentally shook his head.
Angelo Valencia, sweet?
No, he must be mistaken.
Unable to help his curiosity, he asked Lane, “Do you really not mind he’s a sadist?”
Lane said sadly, “No.”
Bree quickly covered her mouth before someone could see her grin. So this was what an emotional masochist was, she thought. It wasn’t as taboo as she had feared. It was actually kind of...cute.
Dylan’s phone buzzed, his driver telling him the cake had arrived. He glanced at Bree, and taking her cue, his fiancée cleared her throat and asked, “Excuse me, but Lane, could you show me where the restroom is?”
Lane automatically stood up. “Of course.” It was going to start then. She quaked at the thought and struggled for a moment to make her limbs move.
Angelo looked up sharply, sensing her sudden discomfort. “Tesoro?” When she glanced at him, he didn’t mince words, asking simply, “Do you need my help?”
Oh. Her heart constricted, and she wondered if he knew what that always did to her. She had lived with him over a month now, enough to know that his insanely hectic busy schedule would have made a lesser man collapse.
And yet—-
Every time she needed him, she didn’t even have to say a word. He would know, and he would always show unreserved willingness to drop everything...for her.
Only for her.
Clearing her throat, she shook her head, stammering, “J-just telling myself I can, umm—-” She mentally apologized to Dylan’s fiancée. “—-bear going to the restroom alone with B-Bree.”
Dylan smothered a laugh.
Bree blinked. “Umm...” Should she be insulted here? Then she noticed the look of concern on the tycoon’s face. Right. She saw that look on Dylan’s face all the time. It was the look of a mercilessly alpha man who would do anything to protect his woman. She said quickly, “I promise not to turn into a monster while we’re in the restroom.” She gave Angelo a solemn look of promise.
Dylan watched Angelo’s narrowed gaze follow the women out of the conference room. When Angelo turned to him, he said baldly, “Why don’t you just admit it?”
Angelo shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His tone warned the other man to drop the subject.
Dylan only shook his head, continuing, “It’s written all over your face.”
“Again, your words are not making sense.” But of course it did. Angelo twirled his pen between his fingers, thinking grimly that the rockstar made it sound so easy. Admit it. He almost laughed out loud. Admit it...and then what?
Let himself ruin her life for good, her every chance to keep her life normal?
Even he wasn’t as selfish and sadistic as that.
“I know you and Steel belong to the same club,” Dylan said under his breath.
Angelo stilled, but his voice was bland when he answered, “I have never hid the truth about myself.”
“Naturally. You don’t care enough about my opinion to do so.” The rockstar paused. “But I do know that you and Steel are somewhat similar, and it’s begun to occur to me that you may have the same...reservations as he does.”
“Is this the time you, March, and your beloved Bree were in a love triangle?” Angelo mocked.
“Yes,” Dylan answered pleasantly, “but ours, I’m afraid, cannot compare to your triangle with Derek Christopoulos and his wife.”
Humor briefly flashed in Angelo’s eyes as he acknowledged the barb.
“Being in a love triangle isn’t the issue here, though,” Dylan continued idly. “March told me once that the reason he was obsessively thorough in selecting his partner was because he believed not every woman had the capability to understand his needs.”
There were several moments of silence before Angelo said flatly, “I understand his concerns.”
And so Lane was right, Dylan thought.
Instead of answering, he changed the subject, knowing it wasn’t yet the right time to voice his opinion. When Angelo began to exhibit signs of restlessness at the time it took for the two women to return, Dylan offered, “Let me call Bree. You’re just going to look intensely in love if you call Lane because she’s taking too long to come back.”