Mistresses: After Hours With The Boss. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
in her family. She’d never been the top achiever. She’d never wanted anything so much it made her ache.
That wasn’t the case now. Now there was Ana. And she made Paige want to be the best mother. Made her want to do everything she could to give her baby the best life possible. To encourage her, to love her as she was.
She took a deep breath and lifted the ring from its silken nest, sliding it onto her finger. “There. We’re engaged now,” she said.
He nodded slowly and leaned back in the seat. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. If he was thinking.
“What?” she asked.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I was just wondering what you were thinking. I mean … this is weird.” She wondered if he was thinking of a beautiful blonde, or stunning, dark-haired beauty he would rather have given a ring to. The thought made her chest feel odd. Tight. “We don’t really know each other and … were you planning on getting married ever?”
“No,” he said, definitively. Decisively.
“Oh. Not even if you meet the right person?”
“There is no right person for me. Or at least not one who’s right for more than a couple of days. And nights.”
Dante watched Paige’s face, the confusion, the little bit of judgment. What he’d just said wasn’t true in the strictest sense. The part about marriage was true, but the way he’d spoken of his relationships made it sound like he and the women he slept with met and spent a few days locked in a passionate embrace.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
He’d had arrangements with a few different women over the course of his adult life. Women who were just as busy and driven as he was. Women who were just as averse to relationships.
The women he usually took to the charity events, the models, the actresses … he didn’t sleep with them. They were the bit of flash, the ones who looked good in pictures and who wanted to be in them.
But they were too young, many of then. Too starry-eyed and not nearly cynical enough. The women he took to bed, all they wanted was a couple of hours and a couple of orgasms. They wanted what he wanted. They didn’t want forever and fireworks; they wanted a basic need to be met. And that’s what happened. Basic, simple pursuit of release.
Still, there was no way to explain that without making it sound even worse.
And when had he ever cared what anyone thought? Never. He’d come into the public eye amid speculation and criticism. The Italian orphan that had somehow weaseled his way into the Colson family. That had been named as the heir of a billion-dollar fortune. There had been endless speculation about him, about how it had happened. As if he, even at fourteen, had known some sort of dark secret about the older couple who had taken him into their home. Something that would have enticed them to take on such a sullen, angry child.
He had never once tried to correct the rumors.
But something about the look in Paige’s eyes made him want to clarify, to change her assumptions. Or at least make an excuse.
“What about you,” he asked, happy to redirect the focus of the conversation to her. “Do you want to get married? Beyond this, I mean.”
“Well, I wasn’t really at the point where I was thinking about it.”
“All women think about it.”
“That’s a gross generalization and there’s no way you can know that. Or rather, you can know that you’re wrong because I wasn’t. Not in a serious way.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve been too busy discovering who I am. Apart from the small town I grew up in, I mean. I’ve been down here for about three years and I’ve been kind of … finding myself. Which sounds maybe a little bit geeky but it’s true. Back at home there were all these preconceived ideas about me. Who I was, what I was capable of. And when the town is as small as mine, those ideas don’t just come from your parents, they come from … everyone. I moved here and decided to really figure out who I would be if there was no one around expecting anything different.”
“A noble quest,” he said. And interesting, considering that he was doing the same thing, in a way. On a surface level, at least. He had no interest in finding himself, whatever that meant. But the idea of changing perceptions, that one grabbed him.
“Not really,” she said. “Just a desire to be seen as something other than a terminal dork.”
“I can’t imagine you being thought of as a … as that.”
“Well, I was. Scrub off the makeup, add a ponytail … I revert right back. Actually, I don’t think I’m evolved all that far beyond dork status—it’s just that I have a better handle on confusing people by presenting a more polished appearance.”
“Polished but flashy.”
“Distract them with something shiny, right?”
In some ways he understood that philosophy, too. Bring a beautiful, bubbly date and people might not notice how much he hated being at public events. Might not notice how little he smiled.
“Right,” he said, his eyes on her ring. He took her hand in his, ran his thumb over her smooth skin, to the gem that glittered on her finger. “This should do it,” he said, looking up, meeting her gaze.
Her eyes were round, her lips parted slightly and he knew that he could lean in and kiss her and she would kiss him back. The desire to do it, the need, tightened his gut. They would have to do it in public eventually. It would be perfectly reasonable to give it a try now. To press his lips to that soft, pink mouth. To dip his tongue inside and find out if she tasted as explosive as she looked.
He turned away from her sharply, putting his focus back on his phone. He wouldn’t kiss her. Not now. Not because he wanted to. Not because the desire, pumping hot and hard through his veins told him to. No, when there was a need for it, he would do it. Not before then.
He was in absolute control of his body, and his desires. Always. It would be no different with Paige. They were playing a game that bordered on dangerous, and that meant he had to be sure that he kept things tightly in line.
Paige cleared her throat. “Right. It certainly is … distracting.”
“Yes,” he said, clenching his teeth tight, “it is.”
You can’t have more champagne. You’ll make a total ass of yourself.
She’d already rolled her ankle twice while walking around the lavishly decorated ballroom and had stumbled obviously, teetering sharply to the right thanks to her three-inch heels.
She wasn’t exactly making the best appearance as Dante’s brand-new fiancée.
But this had all happened so fast she hadn’t had time to adjust. And that was one of the many reasons that alcohol felt slightly necessary.
The other was that moment in the car, just before they’d arrived, when Dante’s dark eyes had been focused on her mouth. When heat and desire had spread through her, flushing her skin, making her heart race. When she’d looked like a total fool, drooling over a man who didn’t have the slightest interest in her.
Yeah, there was that.
“Enjoying yourself, cara mia?” Dante appeared, holding two glasses of champagne. He offered her one, and she took it, in spite of herself.
“I’m not really sure,” she said.
“You aren’t sure?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know anyone here but you so I’m basically just standing next to you smiling and no one is really talking to me and … my cheeks hurt.”
“Your cheeks?”
“From