Vows and Vengeance

Chapter Four- The rules

The next few weeks disappeared in a blur of closed doors, late nights, and lies neither of them bothered to make convincing.

They never called it dating.

They never called it anything.

It was just… happening.

Monday mornings she’d walk into the executive conference room in a crisp white blouse and a skirt that made every man over fifty clear his throat. Alex would already be there, leaning back in his chair, sleeves rolled up, looking like he hadn’t slept. Because he hadn’t. He’d left her bed at four a.m., kissed her once on the mouth, and told her he had an early call with Tokyo.

No one noticed the way his eyes tracked her across the room.

No one saw her fingers brush the back of his hand when she reached for the same stack of reports.

They were good at pretending.

They’d had ten years of practice.

At night it was different.

Her apartment. His. A hotel suite in London when they both had to be at the same investor dinner. Once, stupidly, the back seat of his car after a charity auction, windows fogged, her dress around her waist, his tie stuffed in her mouth so the driver wouldn’t hear.

They had rules. They said them out loud the first week, like spelling out terms on a contract.

1. No staying the whole night.

2. No marks where people can see.

3. No talking about the vote.

4. No feelings. Ever.

They broke rule one the first night.

They broke rule two by the end of the second week.

Rule three lasted until the end of the month.

Rule four was a lie from the start.

Tonight was a Thursday in late October, rain hitting the windows of her penthouse like someone throwing handfuls of gravel. Elena stood at the kitchen island in one of Alex’s shirts and nothing else, pouring two glasses of red wine. Her hair was still damp from the shower. His was too. They’d barely made it out of the hallway before clothes started coming off.

He walked in barefoot, wearing only gray sweatpants riding low on his hips. The city lights behind him painted gold edges on his shoulders and chest. She hated how good he looked. She hated that she noticed every single time.

“You’re staring,” he said, leaning against the counter.

“You’re half naked,” she answered. “It’s hard not to.”

He smiled, small and crooked, the one that used to make her stomach hurt in high school. It still did.

She handed him a glass. Their fingers brushed. They always did that now, little touches that lasted half a second too long.

He took a sip, eyes on her over the rim.

“Maya asked me today why I’ve been smiling in meetings,” she said.

“What’d you tell her?”

“That I finally figured out how to expense good sex.”

He laughed, real and low, and something warm spread through her chest. She ignored it.

“My mother called me,” he said.

Elena went still.

“What?”

“Relax. She thinks we’re ‘reconciling our differences for the good of the company.’ Her words.” He set his glass down. “She wants us to come to the Hamptons for the weekend. Family dinner. Investors will be there.”

“No.”

“Elena.”

“No.” She put her glass down harder than she meant to. “I’m not playing happy family with the woman who used to look at me like I was something stuck to her shoe.”

He stepped closer. “It’s one weekend. We go. We smile. We let them think whatever they want. It buys us time.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want her thinking she’s winning.”

“She’s not.” His hands settled on her hips, thumbs sliding under the hem of the shirt. “We are.”

She looked up at him. Rain drummed against the windows. The apartment was quiet except for that and their breathing.

“I hate when you make sense,” she muttered.

“I know.”

He kissed her then, slow and lazy, tasting like wine and him. She let him back her up until her hips hit the counter. His hands slid lower, cupping her ass, lifting her onto the marble. The shirt rode up. Cool stone against warm skin.

“Alex,” she said, half warning, half plea.

“Shh.” He kissed down her neck, teeth grazing the spot that always made her shiver. “We’ve got time.”

They didn’t talk about the vote.

They didn’t talk about the ring he wasn’t wearing anymore.

They didn’t talk about the way he sometimes looked at her when he thought she was asleep.

Instead he carried her to bed, laid her down like she was something precious, and took his time until she forgot every rule they’d ever made.

Later, tangled in sheets and each other, her head on his chest, she listened to his heartbeat slow down.

“You’re staying tonight,” she said. Not a question.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice rough from her mouth. “I’m staying.”

She closed her eyes.

Less than 6 months left…

She wasn’t sure anymore who was burning who.