Your Forever Love (The Bennett Family #3)

by Layla Hagen

  Sighing, I pick up my pencil again, wanting to lose myself in my drawings again. The ding of the elevator doors startles me.

  “Who’s—” I begin, but stop when I see the intruder. Eric.

  “Pippa, what are you doing here?” he asks.

  “I work here,” I reply, rising to my feet. “Why did you come? Did something happen to Julie?”

  “No. She forgot some of her sketches here, and she wanted to work on them during the weekend.”

  I inspect my desk, and sure enough, I find her sketches buried under my own.

  “Here they are,” I announce. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have brought them tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t think you were still here. Thanks.” His fingers touch mine as I hand him the sketches. I’ve been antsy for the past few hours, and the contact both calms and electrifies me at the same time. “Why are you here so late?”

  “I stay up late sometimes. I have a lot of work, and I didn’t want to go home.” Pointing to the cupcakes near my keyboard, I infuse my voice with extra cheer as I add, “I have plenty of cupcakes to keep me company.”

  Eric’s gaze holds mine for a few seconds, but it’s not a hot look; it’s a concerned one. He breaks eye contact, staring at my designs instead.

  “You’re upset,” he says finally.

  “How can you tell?”

  “You said your designs vary according to your mood. These are dark. Scary.”

  “These are scary? Not much of a horror movie man, I take it?”

  “Nope,” he admits. “They scare the crap out of me. Always have. Want to tell me what’s wrong?” His voice is low and smooth, almost like a caress. It beckons me to open up to him. I debate brushing him off, but there is no reason to lie to him. Yes, he knows my brothers, but it’s unlikely he’ll tell them anything.

  “Five years ago on this date, I married my ex. To fill you in, the reason behind our divorce was that I discovered he’d married me for my money.”

  Eric raises his eyebrows, his expression unreadable. Then, to my utter astonishment, he gives me a thumbs-up.

  “In that case, I’m surprised you’re taking out your feelings on your designs and not a voodoo doll or throwing darts at his picture.”

  I chuckle, grateful for his reaction. No additional questions, no brooding. Just laughing. God, I can use some more of that right now.

  “I should have taken my sister up on the offer of going on a girls’ night out instead of staying here by myself,” I admit. “But I didn’t want to worry anyone.”

  Eric taps his fingers on my desk as if considering something. “Let’s you and I go out.”

  “What?”

  “You need a distraction. I’d like to provide that. Besides, I’d like to see a more adult version of San Francisco. Until now, I’ve only seen the twelve-year-old version.”

  “How about Julie?”

  “She’s asleep, and Ms. Blackwell is at the house with her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Don’t overthink this, Pippa,” he says in a calm voice.

  Oh, why the hell not? This man can make me laugh, and that’s exactly what I need. “Okay. Give me Julie’s sketches. I’ll carry them in my bag.”

  “What do you want to do?” he asks.

  “I want to dance,” I tell him. “But no weird fifties music.” I hold up my forefinger, accentuating every word with a swing. Eric looks on the verge of bursting out laughing.

  “Why, you’re wearing inappropriate underwear again?”

  “Maybe I’m not wearing any at all,” I tease. Big mistake. His eyes darken, his lips parting with a heavy exhale. In a fraction of a second, the air between us charges, a blanket of tension settling over us.

  “You’re not?” His voice is low and husky, and I shudder listening to it.

  “I was kidding, Eric. Let’s go.”

  “Before we go,” he says, “let’s set some ground rules.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “No hot looks, and no flirting.”

  I tilt my head to one side, barely holding back my laughter. “Why do I get the impression you’re talking to yourself, not to me?”

  “Because I am, but it’s on you to keep me accountable.”

  “That sounded businesslike. Are you going to shark out on me if I don’t hold you accountable?” I inquire.

  “You bet I will.” His tone is cheeky, almost challenging.

  “You can count on me. It’ll be easy-peasy.”

  As I grab my purse, slinging it over my shoulder, I steal glances at him and have to swallow hard as I take in his equally imposing and consuming presence. Okay, so maybe it won’t be that easy. Eric’s hand drops to the small of my back, guiding me as we head outside the building. I lean in to his touch, amazed by the warmth coursing through me.

  A stubborn wind rustles the leaves and I turn my eyes skyward, searching for any signs of an upcoming storm. The sky is remarkably clear, though, with stars shimmering here and there. I inhale the smell of nearby roses and smile. It’s a beautiful and peaceful evening, almost magical.

  “Do you have any place in mind?” he asks me while signaling a passing cab to stop.

  “I know a place that opened last month. They have three dance floors and a rooftop bar.”

  “Sounds great,” he says after we climb in the car. I tell the cabbie the address, and afterward, we’re on our way. We’re halfway there when my phone rings.

  “It’s Alice,” I tell Eric before pressing the phone to my ear and muttering, “Hi!”

  “Where are you?” she asks. “You said you’d be working, and your office is empty.”

  “I—You’re at the office? Why?”

  “I wanted to check on you.”

  I love my sister to pieces. “I’m great, Alice. Don’t worry.” In the background, I hear Nadine’s voice and Summer’s unmistakable laughter. “Alice, why are the girls with you?”

  “No one’s with me,” Alice replies a little too quickly.

  “I can hear them.”

  She sighs. “We all came to check on you.”

  “You organized a girls’ night out, didn’t you?” Guilt gnaws at me as I eye Eric.

  “Sort of. Depends. What are you doing right now?”

  “Eric and I are going to get some drinks.”

  “You’re on a date?” She practically screams the last words, so of course Eric overhears her. I sneak a glance at him, and sure enough, he smiles.

  “No. It’s not a date. It’s as nondate as it can be.”

  “Right. Then I was absolutely not planning a girls’ night out. Go back to your nondate. Bye.” The line goes static. One glance at Eric and I confirm he’s about to burst out laughing.

  “That was my sister,” I tell him.

  “Do you want to go out with her?”

  “No,” I answer. “I love girls’ nights out, but I want something different this time.”

  Winking, he says, “Let’s enjoy the hell out of this nondate.”

  The venue is packed when we arrive, which is not surprising, given it’s Friday night. Eric and I enter through the VIP area. A friend of mine owns the club, and every time we speak, she reminds me that I’m permanently on the VIP guest list. I’ve never taken her up on her offer before. There are three floors, and the first two are too packed to breathe. The third one is for VIP guests only, and even so, it’s crowded.

  “What do you want to drink?” Eric asks me.

  “Red wine.”

  He nods and heads to the bar, leaving me on my own. Several men ogle me with what are clearly unorthodox thoughts, and after a few minutes, one of them walks up to me. He’s wearing a black shirt with a white pattern that resembles an uninspired combination of a zebra and a Dalmatian.

  I immediately put my fight face on.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.

  “Thank you, but no.” I cross my arms over my chest and look away from him, hoping he’ll get the appropriate unavailable vi
be from me. He doesn’t.

  “I bet you’re a vodka type,” he continues.

  I groan. “Please don’t insist. I’m not interested in anything.”

  The guy doesn’t budge. Unbelievable. I do the only sensitive thing and walk away, but the idiot follows me. Right. I knew I should have gone to Judo classes with Alice when she asked me to.

  “You can’t—” he begins, but a deep voice interrupts him from behind me.

  “Are you deaf?” Eric bellows. “She said no. Fuck off.”

  “And you are?”

  I have to give it to the guy; he’s got balls. Despite Eric looking every inch an alpha—and a pissed one at that—the guy doesn’t back off.

  “Her fiancé. Leave, unless you want to have a black eye to match your shirt.”

  At the word ‘fiancé,’ the muscles in my entire body clench. The guy blinks, panicked, and scurries away.

  Eric hands me a glass, his gaze following the schmuck through the crowd.

  “I was handling him. I can deal with things like this.” I take a sip of my wine, and it tastes delicious.

  “I don’t doubt that,” he answers, finally snapping his gaze to me. “But just because you can doesn’t mean you have to.”

  “Why not?”

  “You have enough on your mind tonight without having to fend off idiots.” He raises his glass at me. “I’ll do that for you. The expression on his face when I said ‘fiancé’ was priceless.”

  I tense again at the word, and this time, Eric takes notice.

  “I crossed a line saying that?”

  I shrug. “No, I’m—I don’t….” I don’t finish the sentence because I honestly don’t know why hearing that word makes me anxious. Probably because it brings back ugly memories. “Anyway, his face was priceless.”

  “I’m surprised he bought it,” Eric says.

  “You looked scary,” I assure him.

  “Yeah, but I’m not acting like a fiancé should.”

  This piques my interest. “And how’s that?”

  Eric drums his fingers on his glass and the back of my neck prickles, as if he was doing that exact motion on my skin. I let out a heavy sigh as a cold shudder runs down my spine.

  Eric steps closer. “If you were my fiancée, everyone here would know it, trust me.”

  “How so?”

  “I wouldn’t take my hands off you. I’d touch you every chance I got.”

  My breath catches, yet somehow I manage to whisper, “That would be very indecent.”

  “Oh, I’d be indecent all the way.” Leaning in, he brings his lips to my ear. “And you’d love it.”

  I push him away. “You are full of yourself, fake fiancé, given that this is a nondate.”

  “I know my strengths,” he retaliates with nonchalance. “I’ve got game.”

  “Prove it,” I say.

  This catches him off guard. “Come again?”

  The two words have an atomic effect on me. A wave of heat washes over me, starting in my center and spreading all through my fingertips. He didn’t even mean it in a sexual way, but my mind is in the gutter. So is Eric’s, judging by the dangerous glint in his eyes.

  “Dance with me,” I say. “Dancing is part of having game.”

  Eric nods. “Your wish is my command,” he says. “Fiancée.”

  We put our glasses on a nearby table and he takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, leading me to the center of the dance floor. He looks delicious in his suit. We’re surrounded by men and women in business attire. Consultants, bankers, and whatnot have come to let loose and relax after a week of hard work.

  The music has an addictive rhythm, and as I start moving my hips to it, I realize dancing was a bad idea. Eric’s eyes rake over my body, setting me on fire. Then he turns me around, so my back faces him. Maybe it’s the inviting music or the dim lights, but my thoughts drift away, leaving room only for sensation. He pushes my hair to the side, baring a part of my neck to him. His hot breath lands on my skin as we sway our hips in tandem. Mimicking the couples surrounding us, his hands reach for my hips, gripping me strongly. Pulling me to him, he flattens my back against his chest. An electric current zips through us, setting my nerve endings on edge.

  “Whoa,” I say, taking a step forward, at the same time Eric exclaims, “Damn.”

  “Okay, so touching is out of the question.”

  He nods in agreement. “Yeah, let’s make that dancing is out of the question. I won’t be able to keep my fingers away from you here with the dark lights.”

  “I really wanted to dance, though.” I pout a little, shrugging.

  “Stop pouting or I’ll damn everything and kiss that beautiful mouth of yours.”

  His honesty is so disarming. I’m not even sure how to answer. I expect every man to have a secret agenda, to have trouble keeping his lies from surfacing. Eric’s different in the best possible way.

  “You always say what’s on your mind, don’t you?” I ask him.

  “Yep. Big fault of mine. Lost a few business deals because of it.”

  “Let’s go on the rooftop, have drinks, and talk. Talking is safe, right?”

  “I hope so.”

  The rooftop is lined with cozy outdoor couches and dove-shaped lamps, and it’s remarkably uncrowded. It becomes clear why within seconds; the wind is stronger than it was down on the street, and it’s almost chilly. I rub my arms vigorously, and without a word, Eric shrugs out of his suit jacket, draping it around my shoulders.

  “Thank you,” I murmur. We find a corner that is shielded from the wind and take refuge there. “We didn’t bring our glasses.”

  “I’ll buy us new ones. Wine again?”

  I nod. As Eric walks to the rooftop bar, I pull his jacket tighter around me. It smells amazing and fills me with a strange sense of safety. He returns with two glasses a few minutes later, handing me one and sitting next to me. I approximate there are eight inches of distance between us—not nearly enough to be considered safe. I can practically sense the testosterone oozing off him.

  “What do you want to talk about?” I ask him, trying hard to keep my mind out of the gutter.

  “Anything,” he replies. “Tell me about you, but please, make an effort to find something vile and repugnant. So far, I’ve learned that you get along with my daughter, are funny as hell, and have a body made for sin. Bad combo for my determination to remain a monk.”

  I laugh out loud, as he continues, “There’s something I meant to ask you after your phone call. Why are you keeping your family at arm’s length?”

  Coming from anyone else, this question would set me on edge, but instead, I sink in my seat. My muscles loosen up one by one. I love that I don’t feel the need to pretend around him, or keep up the bravado.

  I take a sip of wine, wondering how to best formulate my answer.

  “I’m not used to having my siblings fret over me. I mean, sure, Sebastian and Logan have made it their mission to hover over us, but I’m the family’s official worrier.” I take another sip then play with the glass in my hands, focusing on the way the liquid swirls inside. “When we were little, I worried there wasn’t enough of anything for everyone. When money ceased to be a problem, I worried if I was setting a good enough example for them.” I chuckle, remembering one particular incident. “On my twenty-eighth birthday, Summer told me that whenever she’s in a dilemma, she asks herself, ‘What would Pippa do?’”

  “You’re a remarkable woman,” Eric says in a soft voice.

  “How can you tell? We met two weeks ago.”

  “I’ve seen you with Julie. That’s all I need to know. You should cut yourself some slack.” He hesitates for a few seconds, before adding, “I have a hunch you keep punishing yourself for something.”

  I raise my glass to him. “Nice to meet a fellow people reader.”

  “So, what are you punishing yourself for?” he insists.

  “Being stupid,” I admit. Eric raises his hand, obvious from his expre
ssion that he wants to contradict me, but I stop him with a headshake. “I sensed in my gut that something was wrong with Terence, and still I went through with the wedding. All the signs were there, but I wanted to be blind. I wanted a family like the one I came from so badly, with lots of kids running around and many happy moments, that I ignored the signs.”

  “You weren’t stupid, but you wear your heart on your sleeve, and you can’t fathom that anyone else can have hidden agendas. You will eventually have everything you wish, Pippa.”

  I shrug. “It’s okay. I’m happy with the family I already have. They’ve been my rock through all of this. I relied on them and on plenty of sweets, good books, and occasional trips to a therapist, which didn’t do much for me, if I’m honest.”

  “Ah, yes, therapists. It’s hard to find the good ones.” Eric’s voice is so conversational, as if we’re exchanging impressions about the weather. “Even the great ones can only help so much. You have to find things that ground you. For me, it was Julie. No matter how hard it was I had to pull myself together for her.”

  “You are a great father,” I assure him. We’re kindred spirits, he and I, and my heart clenches for him.

  “I try. Do you want another glass?” He points to my empty one.

  “No, I’m good. We should go. Long day ahead tomorrow.”

  “How so? You’re only joining us after lunch.”

  “Sebastian and Ava are back from their honeymoon, so we’ll have a family brunch at Alice’s restaurant tomorrow morning.”

  We leave our corner and I shudder in the wind, despite the jacket. As we step out onto the street, he says, “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

  “Nope. This is a nondate. I will take myself home.”

  “But—”

  “We’re not negotiating,” I interrupt. “I’ll grab a cab. There are plenty in this area. Oh, I almost forgot. What’s your address? I need it for tomorrow.”

  I frown as he tells me the name of the street. I know it. It’s a residential, no-fuss area. My surprise must show on my face because he asks, “Why do you seem so taken aback?”