Page 15 of Reckless Sinner
A strange fire flared up in my chest. She’d liked the bourbon the other day—why was she ordering wine? Plenty of people around her were drinking different whiskeys, or cocktails. Not just wine.
Delaney looked up from her wine glass, and caught my eye. I froze. Damn it. I had let myself stare too much. It was inevitable she’d catch me.
I could turn away, pretend I hadn’t seen her, engage the nearest person in conversation. But that would be cowardly and hurt her, and I didn’t want to be the former or do the latter.
Delaney made some excuses to her conversation companions and walked over to me with a tentative smile. “I wondered if you would be here.”
“I admit I’m surprised to see you. Is your father around?”
“He’s somewhere.” Delaney glanced about. “I’m not allowed to come to these things alone.”
It was years of practice at schooling my expression, between growing up with my family and now as a lawyer, that kept me from staring at her and showing my confusion and concern. “Oh? Where do you go alone then, when you want to party? This place too corporate for you to really let loose?” I winked at her.
As I played the compliment game to try and suss out more about her, I kept an eye out from Alan himself. He hadn’t seemed at all opposed to my dating Delaney but I had the instinct that he wouldn’t like our topic of conversation.
Delaney blushed. “I’m really a homebody,” she admitted. “I was never much of a partyer.”
“Me neither,” I admitted. “I went to my fair share in college but that kind of lost its fun after the first year. Every party was the same. At least these are a little better.”
“Less chance of someone throwing up on your shoes?” Delaney asked dryly.
I chuckled. “No, there’s a purpose to these. You went to a party in college just to get wasted and dance around and hook up. Here you’re making important contacts, upholding the firm’s social status, that sort of thing.”
Delaney nodded along.
I decided to test my theory. “What’s the guy behind me saying?”
Delaney jumped a little. “I’m listening to you.”
“I know you are. I’m sure you could repeat exactly what I said back to me. But what’s the guy behind me saying?”
Delaney flushed again. She really did look lovely all blushing and bothered. It was going to be hard not to coax her into bed. “He’s talking about how a recent partner at a company had jaundice and so he’s started getting all concerned about working conditions and complying with environmentally friendly suggestions on running factories. It’s creating a headache for both the company itself and the firm representing them.”
I nodded. My theory was confirmed. And that meant that my follow-up theory was probably correct—but I didn’t want to scare her off completely.
“You observe a lot more than the people around you think you do,” I murmured. “Very good, Miss Weston.”
“I think we’re on a first-name basis now,” Delaney replied, her blush deepening as if she was shocked at her own forwardness—like we were in the 1800s and not the 21stcentury.
“Of course we are. But no matter what your father thinks of me, that’s only gone so far when it comes to changing public perception of me. So right now it’s in your best interest to appear to have some distance from me. Miss Weston,” I repeated.
Delaney nodded like she understood it but didn’t like it. “Is that why you’ve been keeping me at arm’s length, Mr. Russo?” she asked. She looked up at me through her lashes and I swore I could feel my knees and my resolve weakening. “Because you want to protect me?”
“What other reason would there be?” I said, answering a question with another question.
I couldn’t very well tell her that I was simultaneously scared of disappointing her and scared that letting her get too close would hurt me. I could see into the future the weak spot she could become for me and I couldn’t afford any weak spots.
Delaney glanced away. “I thought maybe I had done something wrong.”
It had never occurred to me, in spite of the strange instances of self-doubt that I’d witnessed, that Delaney might think she was the problem. That she might conclude she wasn’t good enough for me. And that realization made me feel like shit.
“No,” I said softly, but with conviction. “No, it’s not you at all, Delaney. You’re lovely.”
She looked back at me and seemed genuinely surprised by the answer—but then I literally saw her square her shoulders. “Then what is it? Is it your family? Is it who my father is? Is it that my father’s your boss? Because I—I have to tell you, Dante, I—I’ve wanted you since I met you at the Christmas party. This whole time. My father even teased me about it. And I’m not going to let something as ridiculous as your family name or what other people might think hold you back if you want me, too.”
She stepped in closer, and I realized with my height and our closeness, I could now look down and get the perfect view of her breasts pressing up against the swell of her dress. My mouth watered.
“Because if you want me,” she whispered, “I’m all yours for the taking.” She paused. “For the using.”
