She grabbed a dry-cleaning bag from the hall closet and began stuffing it with his and her clothes, and was on her knees digging through the laundry basket, looking for more stuff to include when she looked up and found Shawn standing over her.
“Holy crap!” She grabbed her chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he said, impassively. “I thought I heard you come in.”
Riley noted that he didn’t make any move to kiss, or even touch her. Swallowing her disappointment, she turned once again to look through the laundry.
“Anything else you need sent out?” she asked, forcing herself to sound casual.
“Just the stuff you grabbed already,” he said.
She busied herself with the clothes, wondering why he was still standing there.
“Are we going to dinner before this thing?” she asked. “Or are they going to have food there?”
“They’ll have food,” he said.
When she looked up again, he had turned and was heading for his dressing room. Riley let out a breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding and stood with the dry cleaning bag, tossing it over her shoulder.
“I’m going to go drop these off,” she said. She was trying to sound as normal as possible, and the effect was to make her sound tense.
“We have a concierge, Riley,” Shawn said, sticking his head out of the dressing room. He sounded annoyed. “I don’t know why you don’t use them for stuff like this.”
“Seems easier to do it myself,” she mumbled.
Shawn made an impatient sound and grabbed the phone from beside the bed. He punched out a few numbers and spoke to the person on the other end, telling them that he needed the dry-cleaning picked up.
“There,” he said when he hung up. “Done.”
Riley stood with the bag in hand, feeling foolish.
“I’ll take it to the front door, then,” she said.
She slow-walked to the foyer and left the bag by the door, taking a deep breath. This was not shaping up to be the reconciliation she’d imagined and hoped for. And following her conversation with Greg this afternoon, the last thing she needed was an evening full of tense silences.
Taking a deep breath, she went back to the bedroom and into her dressing room opposite Shawn’s, looking over her wardrobe and trying to decide what to wear. Thanks to Tracy’s tenacity, she had lots of new stuff to choose from. Dresses, chic pantsuits, shoes that cost almost a month’s salary. And then there was the jewelry. Shawn bought her new things all the time; without warning adding necklaces, earrings and bracelets to her collection often without breathing a word about it. Riley had grown accustomed to walking in and finding a new lariat or ring added to the glass top jewelry organizer at the center of her sizeable dressing room.
Most of his choices were simple pieces that she might have bought herself, if she wasn’t the kind of woman to balk at spending fifteen thousand dollars on a bracelet. This time though, there was nothing new and she was both relieved and disappointed.
Riley couldn’t quite decipher this mood of his; unless she was mistaken, she was the one who had a right to be upset—he had embarrassed her by fighting at a party over some imagined pass that Cameron Cole made at her and then later suggested that she was likely to cheat on him because she’d done it before with Brian.
So why was she this unsettled? Well, she knew why. She wasn’t used to Shawn not wanting to touch her. Usually, he was all over her, almost as though he couldn’t help himself. A rush of insecurity coursed through her and she cursed herself for feeling so . . . bereft, just because he hadn’t ripped her clothes off the minute she walked in. But the disturbing truth was that she’d always suspected that the balance of power in their relationship depended on him wanting her as much as he did. The intensity with which he wanted her was matched only by the intensity with which she loved him. One did not work without an assurance of the other.
“I’m wearing brown.”
Riley turned at the sound of his voice. Shawn was standing at the door holding up a shirt. She shrugged. “Okay?”
“In case you wanted to wear something that . . .”
She smiled. “That matches? Are we coordinating colors now?”
Shawn said nothing. She suspected that it was his way of checking out her outfit to make sure it wasn’t too revealing. Taking a quick scan, she pulled out a pale yellow Donna Karan maxi dress with a halter neckline. There was a slit that ran up to her mid-thigh, but no one could accuse her of showing too much skin in this number, not even her ridiculously jealous husband.
“How’s this look?”
“Good,” he nodded, satisfied and walked out. “I’m about to jump in the shower.”
Normally, he would have asked her to join him. Normally, she would not need to be asked. Riley instead headed for the kitchen where she fixed herself a quick snack of crackers and brie. It was going to be a long, long night.
g
She couldn’t remember ever having been this angry. Ever. Riley twirled her champagne glass between her fingers and tried to concentrate on what Chris was saying but couldn’t. Her gaze was drawn repeatedly to the other end of the great room where a woman with a creamy chocolate complexion and long, glossy jet black hair was taking every opportunity to touch her husband.
Shawn would say something and she would laugh, reaching out to stroke his lapel or squeeze his arm. Shawn would turn to speak to someone else, and she would rest her arm, oh so casually, on his shoulder. Shawn headed for the bar and she followed. Not immediately—because that would be too obvious—but shortly thereafter. For an hour now, ever since dinner, this woman in the electric blue dress had been hanging on to him and Shawn didn’t seem to want to do anything about it.
“Who is that?” she asked Chris now, interrupting something he was in the middle of saying, something she hadn’t been listening to in any event.
Chris glanced in Shawn’s direction. “Stephanie something. She’s an Arista executive.” Then he smiled. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
Riley determinedly turned her back so that she was no longer looking in Shawn and Stephanie-Something’s direction.
Chris shook his head and stifled a smile. “This is nothing,” he said. “You should see when he’s just gotten done performing.”
Riley took a swallow of her champagne. “Thanks,” she said. “Thank you for that.”
Shawn had been ignoring her all night. On the ride to the party, he’d answered every question she asked with monosyllables until she started feeling a little desperate and humiliated for trying so hard to get him to speak to her. Finally she’d just turned away and looked out the window at the city lights whizzing by. The drive out to Long Island seemed to take forever, like the silence.
Once or twice, she glanced at Shawn out of the corner of her eye but he was answering email, or texting. He may as well have been in the car alone. Earlier, when she’d come out of the dressing room fully dressed, he’d looked her over as though he was checking for compliance with some unspoken standard. Apparently, she’d met the standard, though just barely.
“Let’s go,” he’d said. “I called a car. They should be downstairs by now.”
During dinner, was when Stephanie-Something had made her first appearance. Their host, the corpulent head of Sony Music, had followed the Emily Post guideline of not seating couples together, so instead Shawn was seated next to Stephanie-Something. All through dinner, the woman had ogled him and totally ignored the person sitting on the other side of her. Once, she’d reached out for his bread instead of her own and broke off and ate a piece of it before realizing her mistake. And when she did, she held his arm as she apologized, and somehow, her hand stayed where it was, on his arm, all through the salad course.
At that point, Riley might have been inclined to chalk it up to being just a case of yet another flirty woman trying to get Shawn’s attention, but he seemed to enjoy it. He smiled and oriented his body toward her when she sp
oke to him. And there was the subtle way he leaned his head in her direction. He seemed to know her, Riley thought. They weren’t new acquaintances, she was almost certain of it. She could feel the pace of her heart increase.
And now, she was being forced to suffer through the after-dinner cocktails, watching Shawn being pawed and followed around by this tramp in heat. Riley emptied her glass and handed it to Chris.
“Could you get me another one of these?”
“You sure?” he asked. “You’ve had a few, haven’t you?”
“What are you, the drink police?” she asked. Even she could hear that she slurred a little that time.
Chris looked at her and nodded. “Okay, I’ll get you one more.”
Riley watched as he crossed the room in the direction of the bar. On his way there, he paused and said something in Shawn’s ear. Whatever it was, Shawn looked at her, really looked at her for the first time all night. For a moment, their eyes met and in that instant, he looked like himself. He looked at her the way he always did, like she was the most important person in the world; the only person in the world. And just as her anger dissipated just a smidgen, Stephanie-Something leaned in to recapture his attention.
Instead of waiting for Chris to bring her the drink, she headed for the bar herself, brushing by Shawn as she went. Before she could get there, he held her arm and leaned in, his lips pressed against her ear.
“We’re leaving,” he said. “You don’t need another one of those.”
That tiny contact, his lips on her ear, softened her and Riley turned to look at him but his face was so hard and cold, it made her want to cry. One minute pissed and now she wanted to cry.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t ready just to be difficult, but honestly, by then she would have done just about anything to get him away from that woman who even now seemed to be simply biding her time until Shawn got rid of his troublesome little wife.
“Fine,” she said. “Let’s go.”
She turned on her heel and walked away.
The drive back seemed longer than the one that got them there. Riley sat still and quiet for as long as she could, but they were now minutes from home, and she had a feeling Shawn would retreat immediately to his den. And tomorrow, he would be leaving. If she wanted to address everything that had happened this evening, now might be her best chance.
“Do you know her?” she asked, trying to maintain control of her voice.
“Who?”
“The devil in the blue dress.”
Shawn gave a short laugh. “Riley, you had too much to drink. You’re trippin’.”
“I asked if you knew her,” she said, her voice rising.
Shawn turned to look at her, and his face was obscured in the dark of the car.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know her.”
Something about the way he said it made it clear that he meant he knew Stephanie. In the biblical sense. Riley felt her face— no, her entire head—grow warm. Before she could stop herself, she swung at him, but Shawn grabbed her wrist, his eyes wide and surprised.
“What the . . . Riley!”
Then they were pulling up in front of their building and Riley pried her hand lose, opening the door and running inside, past Javier, the evening doorman, and toward the elevators. She was relieved when the doors opened for her right away and she got upstairs well ahead of him.
In the bedroom she peeled off her dress and tossed it across the armchair, sitting on the edge of the bed in her underwear and beginning to unstrap her overpriced, silver designer high heels. Stupid fucking shoes that she only ever wore to events like this, because she was trying to be a good wife and trying to fit in . . . and what was the thanks she got? Complete humiliation; first at Cameron’s party and again tonight.
“Riley!”
She jumped at the sound of Shawn’s voice. Shouting. He was shouting at her now. Riley’s heart raced, and she could feel something building inside her, intensifying to what was sure to be a terrifying crescendo. When he appeared at the bedroom door she looked up at him.
“What the fuck was that?” he demanded.
“You’re a hypocrite, that’s what!” she said. “You spent the whole night with that woman hanging on to you like . . .”
“She works for Arista, Riley. She’s in . . .”
“Don’t you dare stand there and pretend that was a business relationship!”
“Okay, yeah,” Shawn ran a hand over his head. “I fucked her once. So what? It was before we were married.”
“Hypocrite!” Riley grabbed one of her stilettos and launched it at his head.
Shawn ducked and it crashed instead against the bedroom door. Undaunted, Riley grabbed the other shoe and threw that at him as well. That time, her missile made contact with its intended target, hitting Shawn in the bicep. He looked at her as though she was a complete stranger, his mouth open in shock. Then before she knew what was happening, Shawn had crossed the room and pushed her back onto the bed, holding her down by her arms, his legs straddling hers.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked.
He actually looked concerned, as though he suspected she’d lost her mind but Riley was too enraged to stop now. She thrashed beneath him, trying to shake him off her, but he was too strong and all she succeeded in doing was exhausting herself. He held her fast until she stopped fighting him and instead lay there, helpless, her chest heaving, her heart feeling as though it might jump right out of her chest.
“Baby,” he began.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me!” she snapped. “You were with her all evening! If I ever paid that much attention to any man, no, to any person other than you . . .”
Shawn blanched as her words sunk in. For an instant, he looked almost ashamed. Riley, taking this as a possible moment of weakness and an opportunity, tried again to break free but still, he held her in place. Then he lowered his head so his forehead was pressed against hers and despite working to hold on to it, she could feel her anger begin to dissolve.
“I don’t understand what’s going on with you,” Riley said, her voice trembling a little. “Or why you’re treating me this way.”
Still he said nothing. Riley tried once again to get away but he wouldn’t release his grip.
“Stop, Shawn,” she said, frustrated. “Just let me go.”
Then, without warning, the tears were flowing and because he had her arms pinned, she was helpless and could only turn her head as they streaked down her face. Riley could just imagine the mess she looked, with her streaked make-up and runny nose.
“Let me go,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “Let me go. Let me go.”
Suddenly Shawn’s mouth was on hers; he was kissing her, despite her tears, her snot-nose and her blubbering. He ran his lips back and forth, side to side over hers, and then his tongue was in her mouth, coaxing a response.
Riley wanted to resist, but she didn’t know how to, because she wanted him so much. She’d missed him touching her. And for the past few hours when it had seemed like he didn’t want her, the sense of loss had been almost overwhelming. Her breathing intensified again, but this time for very different reasons.
Shawn moved his attention to her neck, kissing, nipping and sucking her there so that it was painful and pleasurable at the same time. She could feel the blood rise to the surface of her skin under his mouth and knew he’d left a mark and that it was intentional. He released her arms and moved his hands to her back, releasing the clasps on her strapless bra. Riley let him kiss her across her chest and basked in the feeling as he took one of her nipples in his mouth and then the other. She reached up and put both her hands on his head.
“Did you . . . want her?” she asked, between breaths.
“No,” he said, without hesitation, not raising his head or pausing what he was doing.
“Then why . . ?”
“Because I was trying to hurt you,” he said.
He reached down and slid her underwear over her thighs, bending her legs so he could tug it off and toss it aside.
“What?” Riley opened her eyes wide, staggered by this admission. “Why?” she gasped.
She tried to sit up, but Shawn still wouldn’t budge, so she was held in place by his chest pressed against her. He raised his hips and she felt rather than saw him remove his pants. Riley heard his boots hit the wood floor.
“What for, Shawn?”
She tried to catch sight of his face, but he seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact.
“For doing what you do,” he said against her ear.
His warm breath caused a pleasurable shiver to travel down her back and all the way to her toes. Riley opened her mouth to ask him what he meant but at that moment he pushed into her and she cried out in surprise, her nails digging into his triceps. Just as she caught her breath, he pulled back and pressed into her again, this time much harder. He moved against her hard and fast. This was what she wanted. It was a feeling so missed, so welcome, so delicious, that she allowed her head to fall back and let herself forget what she wanted to ask him.
g
Shawn left the apartment under the cover of darkness just before dawn. Brendan would be waiting for him downstairs so they could fly back to Houston. Riley was in a deep sleep and had not stirred at all as he showered and threw a few items into a bag; she was probably emotionally and physically spent from the night before. And he was relieved, not sure he could face her. How could he explain to her what he didn’t understand himself? All he knew was that his wife was the only person who made him feel like this, like he couldn’t fucking breathe, and didn’t know whether he was coming or going.
He liked that she was independent, but he hated it too. Like her setting up that interview with Chris without telling him, and then being so close-lipped about what they’d talked about. And as for that whole deal with Cameron? What he hadn’t admitted to her was that he’d been angry at Cameron, but irrational as it was, he was at angry at her as well, just for being in Cameron’s orbit and being the way she was . . . with that careless sex appeal. And to make matters worse, swirling around in his brain had been that email from Chris: You lucky motherfucker. He liked that other men noticed her, but he also hated that most of all.
Commitment Page 30
