Weston stayed rooted to his spot. He looked about seventy-five percent sure I was fucking with him, yet the remaining twenty-five percent wanted to hold out before folding.
He shook his head slowly. This time when he spoke, his eyes remained locked with mine. “Nope. No interest whatsoever.”
I fiddled with the card but left it attached to the paper. “Hmmm… Well, I am. Hope you don’t mind if I read it.”
Weston’s jaw ticked as I called his bluff.
“It’s an invasion of the sender’s privacy,” he grumbled. “Don’t you think?”
I plucked the card from the paper wrapping and smiled. “Then you don’t have to read it.” Taking my sweet-ass time, I ran my nail across the back of the envelope and sliced it open. For full dramatic effect, I flashed my pearly whites at Weston as I slowly pulled the card out.
Before I could scan the first word, Weston was in my personal space. He snatched the card from my hand and gripped both sides of the desk around me, boxing me in.
His eyes gleamed. “Don’t screw with me.”
I lifted my hand to my chest and feigned innocence. “Why, whatever do you mean?”
“Ask what you want to ask, Sophia.”
I tapped my fingernail to my lips, looking up at the ceiling. “Hmm… I have so many questions. I’m not sure where to start.”
“Start wherever you want. Because you playing games just pisses me off. And you know what happens when we get pissed at each other.” He leaned in closer. Our noses were only two inches apart. “Don’t you, Soph?”
My mind immediately conjured images of me pressed against the wall with my skirt around my waist, and Weston with a fistful of my hair standing behind me.
When I didn’t answer right away, he smirked. “Yes, that. Exactly what you’re thinking.”
I squinted. “Oh, you know what I’m thinking now, do you?”
“You were thinking of the first time we were together.” He nodded toward the door. “I fucked you right up against that wall.”
My mouth dropped open.
Weston ran his thumb along my bottom lip. “Well, we were both thinking the same thing a minute ago. But now with this beautiful mouth looking so inviting, I’m remembering a different evening.”
Luckily, at that moment the smell of the flowers behind me permeated my nose, reminding me of the purpose of my visit. I cleared my throat. “Why did you buy me flowers and then not give them to me?”
Weston’s jaw flexed. “It seemed you had another delivery, and I didn’t think you needed two arrangements.”
I tilted my head. “Why not let me decide which arrangement I wanted to keep?”
Weston relinquished his position and stood with his arms folded across his chest. “It pissed me off that another man felt he had reason to send you flowers.”
“How do you know another man sent them? Maybe they were from a woman friend?”
“Because I read the damn card, Sophia.”
I folded my arms across my chest, matching his stance. “Really? Didn’t you just tell me that would be an invasion of the sender’s privacy?”
“And if the roles were reversed? Can you honestly tell me if flowers came for me, you wouldn’t sneak a look at the card?”
I thought about it and shook my head. “I’m not sure.”
Weston gave me a curt nod. “You’re a better person than I am. It happened. Can we move on, please?”
I shook my head. “From the flowers, yes…after you apologize for invading my privacy and intercepting my delivery.”
He held my eyes for a few seconds before nodding. “Fine. I apologize for reading the card. The delivery I intercepted was the one I sent, so I had every right to do that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I accept your half-ass apology. But I have other questions, aside from the flowers.”
Weston mumbled under his breath, “Of course you do.”
“Why did you leave the other morning so abruptly?”
Weston shook his head and blew out a deep breath. “Our situation is complicated, Sophia. You know that.”
“Yes, I do. But we’d just had a really nice evening together. I thought we’d grown closer.”
“Bingo. That, in itself, is the complication.”
Everything about the two of us was complicated. Our relationship had been destined to be difficult before we were even born. But something inside told me that wasn’t what had spooked Weston the other morning.
“So…it bothered you that our families have been feuding fifty years, and we’re basically competitors?”
Weston looked away. “Yes, that’s part of it.”
I chuckled. “Just like you seem to be able to tell what I’m thinking, I can tell when you’re full of shit.”
Weston’s eyes slid back to meet mine.
“What was the other part of it?” I asked.
He dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled harshly. “What do you want me to say? That I’m an alcoholic who’s fucked up pretty much everything important in his life and you’re too good for me?”