The VIP Room (18 page)

I
received
a call later that night from an unknown number. Pausing the rom-com movie I’d rented on the way home, I answered after a healthy swallow of red wine.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

It was Tristan. There was no mistaking that beautiful, velvety voice.

I sat up, my blanket falling from my shoulders. “How’d you get my number?”

“From your firm. I might’ve implied that I had last minute ideas for your design of my office and that it was imperative that I reach you as soon as possible.”

I sighed. Of course. “What do you want, Tristan?”

“I want to see you. Right now.”

“What?” I asked in disbelief, pushing up from the couch. “It’s…late.”

Even the excuse sounded lame to my own ears. When I looked at the clock, it was only twenty past eight.

“I know. But I just…I need to see you. I promise that I’ll leave you with your virtue in tact,” he joked, a strange mixture of humor and seriousness in his tone. It was his tone that made me pause. It was almost…vulnerable. And that was beyond odd coming from a man like Tristan.

“O-okay,” I murmured, flushing when I stumbled over the word. “Um, where should I meet you?”

“I’ll come over to you, if that’s not a problem.”

My eyes immediately flashed around my living room. Then I catalogued the rooms he might see if he were to come over—kitchen, bathroom…bedroom?—and wondered whether they were clean enough for company.

“Um…”

“What’s your address?”

“Tristan, I…” I trailed off. What could I say? With a sigh and a look down at my leggings and ratty t-shirt, I gave him my address. “When will you be here?”

“Give me about fifteen minutes.”

“Alright,” I whispered.

“See you soon, sweetheart,” he murmured before hanging up. I stared down at the phone in my hand with disbelief. I wondered briefly if the past five minutes had just happened. And I wondered what was so important that he needed to see me now.

I immediately raced down the hall towards my bedroom, searching for clothes more suitable than the ones I’d planned to go to bed in. I tugged on some jeans and picked out a simple yet flattering mint green t-shirt that I’d neatly folded in my drawers.

Glancing in the mirror, I cringed. I’d already taken off my make-up for the night—at least, what little make-up I used—so I reapplied a little mascara and swiped on some tinted lip balm before pinching my cheeks for color. My hair on the other hand was hopeless. It was already kinked from being in a ponytail for so long tonight, so instead I tied it up in a messy bun, loose tendrils framing my face.

‘Errand chic’ would have to do for Tristan Blackwell.

I raced out of my room, checking the time. Ten minutes left. I tidied up the living room, straightening blankets and fluffing pillows, before making sure I’d cleaned up completely after dinner in the kitchen, just in case.

It only took about five minutes to straighten up. I was usually pretty tidy.

The remaining five minutes, I spent sitting on the edge of the couch, waiting anxiously for the sound of his car pulling up. And sure enough, right on time, I saw his sleek black car park neatly in my driveway as I peered out my living room windows. It made my relatively new grey Corolla look dismal.

Taking a deep breath, I coached myself like I did for my job.

You can do this, Noelle. Just remember to keep your head and you’ll be fine.

A knock on the door. A moment later, I pulled it open. The first thing I thought was that Tristan looked way too handsome to be standing on my shabby porch, which desperately needed a good couple coats of paint.

Still dressed in his suit from today, he gave me a heart-stopping grin. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes assessing. I blushed, much to my dismay, and opened the door wider to let him enter.

“Thank you,” I said, clearing my throat. “Did you come straight from work?”

Tristan entered, surveying my small entryway with interest. It was weird seeing him here, especially when I’d seen his massive penthouse. Well…part of it anyway. Regardless, someone like him was used to mansions and private jets and here he was, standing in my modest 1,200 square foot home. I was proud of it though and I could see myself living here for many more years to come, but it was still an odd sensation.

Maybe it was the suit…

He
did
look fantastic in a suit.

“Yes, I did,” he answered. “It’s been busy, with the move and all. I have to go to Germany next week for a few days, so I’m trying to finish up some work before then.”

“Germany? Is it for a business trip?”

He nodded. “We have a branch over there. I pop in every month or so to make sure things are running smoothly.”

“You go to Europe every month?” I asked in surprise and a little bit of envy. It was incredible how different our lives were.

He gave me a small smile. “It gets old, trust me.”

“I couldn’t imagine how that would get old. I’ve always wanted to go to Europe,” I told him, leading him into the living room. “London and Rome are at the top of my bucket list.”

“Maybe I’ll take you some day,” he teased, running a hand through his dark hair.

That
sobered me. Because I knew that they were just words, something to say to fill the silence. He had no intention of taking me anywhere. I remembered why he was here.

Gesturing towards the couch, I hinted, “You needed to talk to me about something?”

Tristan sat down on my grandmother’s old couch, one thing I’d been unable to give up even though it didn’t go well with the decor. I wanted to laugh at the sight of him surrounded by colorful embroidered flowers.

“Yes,” he said, looking up at me. “Mostly, I wanted to apologize. For earlier this afternoon, about what happened. I shouldn’t have done that, no matter how much I wanted to.”

My heart skipped a beat, but I ignored the effect his words had on me. They were just words. “Or maybe you’re covering your bases for sexual harassment charges.”

It was a bluff. One that he called. He shook his head. “I don’t believe you’d do that, Noelle.”

“Like I said earlier, you know nothing about me,” I gently reminded him.

“Maybe I want to though,” Tristan said quietly. His green eyes sought mine and he reached out and tugged me down onto the couch next to him. Our thighs touched and he turned his body so he could look at me fully. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. We started off all wrong. I’d like to make up for it.”

“Why the sudden change in heart?” I couldn’t help but ask. “A little under a week ago, you couldn’t get me out the door of your place fast enough.” Or elevator, not the door, in his case. “And what happened to what you said earlier? That one night was all you could give me?”

I’d thought about those words the rest of the day. I’d already known that he was a playboy, but something about the way he said it, something in his tone told me that it ran deeper than that. Much deeper.

With his jaw clenched, he looked away, towards the shelf of family photographs next to my TV. He was silent for a good minute, taking in little things here and there, like the vase of fresh daisies from my backyard, a little ceramic Dalmatian my father bought me from a county fair when I was eight, my DVD collection under my TV stand.

“I like your house,” he murmured, his eyes still flashing around. “Did you design it yourself?”

I wanted answers, but I realized that Tristan was stalling for time. “Most of it,” I said softly, glancing around the living room. It was done up in warm colors…rich burgundies, soft creams, and earthy browns. Sometimes, I lit a dozen candles and cuddled under my blankets. It made me feel safe. “But this used to be my grandmother’s house. She left it to my dad when she passed away and he rents it out to me.” But it was such an insignificant amount, the renting being more my idea than his, so I had a lot in savings.

“Were you close to her?”

“Yes,” I said softly. I tapped the couch. “It’s why this monstrosity is still in here.”

A soft grin lit up his features and I momentarily forgot to breathe. “It adds charm,” he decided.

There was another pause, but I was surprised that I didn’t find it uncomfortable. Tristan was so at ease in silence that I couldn’t find it in myself to be bothered by it.

“You never answered my question, you know,” I reminded him softly. I noticed that he had stubble lining his strong jaw and chin. I longed to reach out and trace it, but held myself back.

“I can’t give you answers to your questions,” he said, his voice husky and low. I almost shivered. He had the greatest voice. “All I know is that I’ve been thinking about you since Saturday night and I’ve been regretting the way that I treated you. I’ve been beating myself up really, especially when Martin told me you refused a ride home. I drove around for a half hour looking for you, hoping that you’d made it home okay.”

My mouth parted in shock as I listened to him. “You did?” I breathed. “But that’s ridiculous. You barely even know me.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” he argued, eyebrows furrowing. “And despite what you may think, I always make sure women get home safely.”

For some reason, I believed him.

“I took a cab,” I told him softly.

“I figured you did. But I just wanted to be sure.” A brief pause. He ran his hand through his hair again, finally glancing back at me. “It was driving me crazy. And I had no idea how to contact you. I only knew your first name. So imagine my surprise when you come striding into my building on Monday afternoon, practically spitting fire as you took me down a notch.” He gave a small laugh and I felt my stomach flutter. “I couldn’t help but be intrigued. That’s why I want to have dinner with you. It’s as simple as that.”

“Wow,” I said, staring at my TV screen before looking down at my lap. My heart was beating a mile a minute. “You really are a charmer, aren’t you?”

I saw his smile out of the corner of my eye. “Has anyone ever told you that you are highly suspicious of people?”

“Can you blame me?” I countered. “I liked you when I met you on Saturday night. And look where that got me.”

His face softened. I felt him take my hand, his strong thumb brushing the sensitive skin of my palm. “For the record, I am sorry for that night. I was a complete asshole to you and I don’t have any excuse for it. I’m not sorry that I met you though, just for how I treated you.”

I didn’t know what to say. My face felt warm and I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “It’s a lot to take in, Tristan.”

“It’s just dinner.”

I sighed. Even if I did want to have dinner with him, to have an opportunity to turn this into something more, I couldn’t. I had my career to consider and no one, not even Tristan Blackwell, could take that away from me.

“I can’t,” I told him, a part of me already regretting my words. “My firm has a strict policy about dating clients. And your building…it’s a
huge
deal for me. I can’t screw this up, I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t deterred. “A business dinner then,” he suggested easily. He gave my palm another swipe, but this time with the pads of his fingers. “To discuss exactly what I want. For my building, of course.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed at his flirting. His fingers moved to the underside of my wrist and I caught his gaze, noticing his broad grin.

“Finally I get you to laugh,” he murmured, gazing at me with an intensity that reminded me of the night we met, the way he’d looked at me as he thrust powerfully between my shaking thighs.

I cleared my throat. My mind was already fogging over with desire, so I looked away. The last thing I needed was for him to be a distraction.

“What do you say, Noelle?”

“I…” I bit my lip. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think it over.”

“Take as much time as you need,” he told me, sincerity shining in his voice.

I relaxed, glad that he would let me decide. Because if he’d pushed me anymore, I would’ve caved and given into him. I
wanted
to. He probably knew it too. He
was
the head of Blackwell Financial for a reason and I was beginning to suspect it wasn’t just because of who his father was. Tristan had a vicious business sense. And he didn’t like to lose.

“I like you like this,” he murmured lowly. In surprise, I looked at him again.

“Like what?”

“All soft.” He pushed back a tendril framing my face. “Honest. You won’t let me get away with anything, will you?” I smiled, despite everything. “But I also like you when you’re working, busting my balls.”

“You like that? Are you a masochist?” I teased, raising a brow.

Another grin. “Maybe.”

We looked at each other for a little while. I took in his straight nose, his full lips, his dark eyelashes. I felt flushed. My whole body was humming with awareness. I knew he felt it too.

When he spoke next, his voice was rough and husky. “I should go. I promised to leave you with your virtue in tact and if I stay any longer, I won’t be able to keep that promise.”

I knew he was right. I was sorely tempted to ask him to stay, but even I knew that was a bad idea. So when he stood up from the couch, I walked him to the front door.

Before he left, he turned and pressed a kiss to my forehead. My heart fluttered at the sweet gesture.

“Let me know what you decide,” he murmured, his lips brushing my temple. “Goodnight, Noelle.” Pulling away, he brushed the same tendril of hair away from my cheek and then went out the door.

Shutting it after him, I leaned against the wood. His scent lingered in my entry way and I was already filled with regret.

I remembered what Ryan said when he broke up with me. That he needed someone more exciting, more fun. My self-esteem had taken a major hit. I’d been devastated. I didn’t do anything remotely adventurous until last Saturday night when I met Tristan. I’d taken a chance and even though it might’ve been rough to start, he made my stomach flutter, even when I was furious at him. He made me feel breathless and I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Perhaps never, now that I thought about it.