“Monica, I’m sorry…” He came walking behind her.
“Fuck you, Daniel. I don’t even want to be your friend anymore.”
“Damn you, I’m sorry.” Fiercely he grabbed her mid-step and spun her around. “We might hurt each other sometimes, that’ll be inevitable, but we’ll work it out. Hell, it’s my turn, Monica! Jesus, you’ve made me stand back and watch other men take my place at the side of the woman I love for years!”
“I don’t want love, I’ve never wanted love. The only reason I came to sleep with you was to see if sleeping with you would get it out of me!”
“How’s that fucking working out for you, huh? Is that all you made it out to be?” He caught her face between his hands and dropped his head to hers, nuzzling her softly, making her knees liquefy as he nibbled her nose. “Come with me to the Fall gala next weekend. As mine. My partner. My woman.”
Every effort in her body was focused on suppressing the shiver his touch, his words, his presence, elicited. “I can’t.”
He lowered his head and grazed her lips with his, seducing her with his words, his warm breath. “You can’t, or you won’t?” he urged.
“I can’t. I’m going with Roland.”
He pulled back with a jolt, stunned, and Monica quickly took this advantage to put even more distance between them. His face had gone blank, and her chest throbbed in a way she had never imagined it could possibly hurt. She felt like she had physically hurt him, like she had physically struck him with a paddle.
His voice was completely alien, a whisper full of pain and anguish and anger. “He’s not even what you want, damn you.”
“But he’s what I choose, Daniel.” Her voice shook uncontrollably. “You’re the prince of this city, whether you like it or not. You’re … you’ll forget about me. And maybe we can be friends in a couple of years, like last time. I can’t do this, please understand. Good-bye, Daniel.” She pushed the button on the wall so that the heavy doors parted, and then she walked through them and out of his life.
* * *
The instant the doors closed behind her, Daniel spun around in a blinding rage. He grabbed the remote for his intelligence system, and slammed it impulsively into the wall, then he charged down his hall, all the while hating her, loving her. Hating her cowardice. Hating his own.
He was soon in the shower, leaning his head against the cold marble wall, cursing her to hell, cursing his life to hell, wondering why in the hell he had to be in love with the one woman who didn’t want him, who didn’t need him, who didn’t want to love him.
He groaned and slammed the heel of his palm into the wall, dying of sheer frustration. Before heading to the office, he stopped by Graves’s place. He was his best friend. The last time Daniel had been here, he had found out he was sleeping with Chloe, and he’d smashed Graves’s face in. Now he arrived to find his friend partially dressed in slacks and an open dress shirt, Chloe in a similar shirt that almost swallowed her up. Upon seeing her brother, she came up to him with her big concerned eyes, just like his, and wrap her arms around him just like he needed her to. “Danny, what’s wrong?”
He was just silent, putting his head against hers. She was little and sweet, his sister, and he wanted to sag from the goddamned tension of battling with Monica this morning. Chloe was so warm, so giving … why couldn’t Monica love him like she loved Graves? Goddamn it, why couldn’t Monica love him, period!
“Danny, talk to me.”
He dragged in a breath, then scraped a hand down her hair, missing the tender softness of Monica’s body against him, the way she went when she put down all her walls and put the damned Ice Maiden to bed, so there was only Monica in his arms, warm and taunting, hungry and wanting …
“I need a date for Saturday’s gala, Chlo. Would you mind if I stole you for a couple of hours that evening?” he asked her, then he glanced Graves, who watched, dark and somber, from the kitchen.
“No, I don’t mind,” Chloe said warily.
Daniel waited for his best friend to say something. Graves was wild about her. Daniel never imagined a man more worthy of his sister, but he took care of her, protected her. They took care of each other. Sought and cuddled each other. “That all right, Graves?” Daniel asked.
“Yeah, man, of course.”
“Of course it’s okay,” Chloe said at the same time Graves brought three cups of coffee. “But why would you go with me when you could take anyone?” she asked.
Daniel grunted. “Not anyone.” The misery in his chest began to tighten at the reminder. “I’ll pick you up Saturday at eight then.” He kissed her forehead and stood, and she caught his hand.
“It’s her again, isn’t it?” Chloe asked, her eyes searching his expression.
Daniel just nodded and headed for the elevator.
“Are you talking about who I think you’re talking about?” Graves asked.
“Yeah.” Daniel waited for the elevator.
“The Ice—”
“Yes,” Daniel cut him off, raising a hand. “Her.”
Graves nodded, no judgment in his hazel eyes. He wasn’t a very talkative man, and thank God for that. Monica was a topic that always hurt to speak about. She had been the “big white elephant in the room” with his friends his entire life. No one dared mention her—at least rarely. She was a hot button for him, and nobody pressed it. Especially Graves, his closest friend. He knew what loving Monica had done to him in his twenties. Daniel hadn’t loved a woman ever since, had never again allowed himself to be vulnerable with one.
Until Monica had climbed into his car and calmly asked if he’d have sex with her …
Damn her!
So she could go seduce a senile grandfather? Not even Viagra would make the motherfucker hard enough to give Monica what she needed. Damn her!
He and Graves quietly slapped each other’s back and Daniel left, thanking him for sharing Chloe for the evening, all the while seething inside. Angry at Monica, angry at himself for opening himself to her again. For thinking he could get past that thick head of hers.
He was brooding in the elevator, realizing he felt just as bound and tied as he had when she had him on the bed. Tied up and helpless. He’d lose her if he went after her. He’d lose her if he backed off.