“Yes, but it never helps much.”
He makes a sympathetic noise deep in his throat. He reaches around, his fingers kneading my tight back muscles, and I sigh. It feels so good, and he seems to know exactly how to touch, how much pressure to exert to loosen the knots.
“About the dinner on Friday…” Just like that tension returns in spite of myself. His eyebrows pinch, and I know he’s noticed too. “Do you not want to go?” he asks.
“It’s not that. I don’t know if Amandine would really want to meet me.” I don’t want to be a circus freak Elliot’s acquaintances and friends marvel at for the crazy deal I struck with him.
“Why wouldn’t she?” He waits a beat. “She’s probably curious about you because she was certain no woman would ever marry me.”
My body doesn’t loosen at the explanation.
“I have a certain reputation. I’m sure you’ve already googled and seen stuff about me.”
I sigh. Yes, I’ve seen the articles and photos about his escapades. And the sex tape.
He continues, “Amandine is nothing like Tiffany. She’s actually quite sweet, like her name sake.” He resumes the massage. “It’ll be good for you to make some friends in this city, and she’s perfect. Used to be an art teacher, until she married Gavin. Then she started to focus on her own work.”
“Is she any good?” I ask even though I know the likely answer. She’s probably a genius
. Elliot seems to surround himself with the smartest and most talented people he can find.
“I don’t know. Never seen her stuff.” He gives me a quick grin. “Just between us, I think she probably sucks. Why else wouldn’t she show it off?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Judgmental much?” I feel too relaxed to scold him though. His fingers are far superior to the ibuprofen pills I took earlier. “She might just be shy.”
“Possibly. Anyway, she still wants to meet you.”
I don’t particularly want to meet people who are going to be nice to me only because of Elliot. I look into his eyes, about to tell him I’m not interested. The warmth and concern in their depths stops me. He’s making an effort since the dinner disaster, when I made those ugly accusations. “If you’re upset about what I said after Tiffany dumped champagne into Nonny’s punch, don’t be. I was being unfair, and I know it.”
“Being honest about your feelings isn’t wrong.” He takes my hand and kisses the palm.
I can’t stay recalcitrant when he’s like this. “I’ll go,” I say, sighing. “Let me know the exact time and what I should wear.”
He nods, then rubs my back until I fall asleep.
Chapter Six
Elliot
Thirst wakes me. The room’s dark, and the house is completely quiet. I lie there, blinking. I don’t want to turn on a light and disturb my wife.
She sleeps facing me, one leg thrown over mine. Long lashes lie in a fan against her pale cheeks, and she looks impossibly young, her rosy mouth soft and vulnerable. She doesn’t seem twenty-two.
There were shadows in her eyes earlier, and I wonder what caused them. It was probably something I screwed up. I seem to be a complete fucking idiot when it comes to dealing with this particular woman. If anybody saw how I fumbled, they would never believe I made my fortune at the age of twenty-one using nothing but brainpower.
Still. I hope she has a good time with Amandine and Gavin on Friday. I’m determined to make it awesome for her.
I leave the bed, careful not to jostle her, and pad over to the bar in the corner of our suite.
It’s out of water. Shit. Forgot to restock.
Sighing inwardly, I make my way down to the kitchen. As I pull a bottle from the fridge, something moves in my peripheral vision. I turn; there’s a small lump on the couch that looks suspiciously like a curled-up body.
What the hell?
Sucking down the water, I go to the living room. I turn on the recessed lights by the wall-mounted TV. The lump twitches, and my gaze collides with the bleary eyes of my teenage sister-in-law.
“Nonny. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in bed?”