Page 50 of Tangled Roses
ELLIE
Arman is weary. He has dark shadows under his eyes and appears to be struggling. I want to help him so badly, but it’s obvious he doesn’t want it. I’m a burden to him and overstepped the mark I was placed on. He walked away from me and I can’t forgive him for that, but we can be amicable, surely.
It doesn’t help that I crave his gentle looks and the soft squeeze of his hand. The tender looks he directs my way and the kisses that scramble my mind. We are two lost souls treading the same path, and I want to finish the journey together.
It appears that he has other ideas though, and he glances at his wristwatch and says quickly, “Come. We will talk over dinner.”
He releases my hand and stands, dashing off a quick text before saying firmly, “Let’s go.”
We head downstairs and I hate the wall of silence between us. He is preoccupied and I wonder what is running through his mind. Is it business, or the business of distancing himself from me?
As soon as we reach the car, I’m surprised when one of the men who accompanies him steps forward and hands him a shirt that’s still in the wrapper. I head inside the car and he joins me and I can’t help staring as he removes his shirt and opens the packaging of the new one.
The temperature increases as I openly stare at the toned abs of a man who obviously enjoys the gym, and the smattering of dark hair on his chest causes me to shift slightly on my seat.
He tears open the packaging and removes another black silk shirt and as he shrugs it, on I swear my heart actually flutters.
I try so hard to focus on anything else, but there isn’t a lot of scenery to occupy my attention inside a steel car elevator.
By the time the doors open and the driver tears off into the street, Arman sinks back against the seat and glances at his phone that has lit up like a Christmas tree.
“I should answer these.”
He effectively dismisses any conversation between us and I resign myself to staring out of the window at the city that never sleeps.
I am conscious of every move he makes as he taps his phone and answers the texts and I try not to dwell too much on the man sending them.
I wish I didn’t want him, crave him even. I wish he was an ugly motherfucker with the manners of a pig.
But he’s not.
He is every fantasy I ever had, and a few more tossed in for good measure.
We reach our destination and as the door opens, Arman steps out and then reaches for my hand.
I wish I didn’t love how his hand clasps around mine. Protecting me, claiming me and holding me so I don’t fall. I wish this was more. I wish things were different and sometimes I wish I hadn’t met him because life would have been simpler. I would have found a job, I’m sure of that, but the one I have been offered isn’t one I’m trained for and I’m struggling.
We head inside the ballroom of The Plaza and I’m shocked to learn it’s not the evening I thought it was.
“What’s happening?” I whisper, and he shrugs. “Charity auction. We need to show our faces, bid on a few things and leave when the job is done.”
The fact his hand is still resting in mine makes a mockery of our respective roles and I hiss, “Don’t you think this gives out the wrong impression?”
“What does?”
He smiles at a man heading our way and I hiss, “I’m your assistant, remember?”
“Not tonight.” He says coolly as the man gets closer and he shocks me by saying softly, “Tonight you’re my date.”
I can’t reply as the man reaches us and casts an appreciative gaze in my direction and says loudly, “Arman. It’s good to see you again and who is this charming woman you can’t bear to let go of?”
“Walter, meet Ellie Adams. My escort for the night.”
I swear I’m going to murder him when we’re alone because the gleam in this man’s eyes tells me exactly what he thinks of me.
His look changes and this time he rakes me from head to toe, positively drooling and then says roguishly, “Then please hand me your business card, Miss Adams and I will push some work your way.”
I open my mouth to speak and Arman says coolly, “Burning Roses. You know the number.”