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More.
His mouth moves to my ear. My body rolls. I turn my face toward him, waiting for his lips to find mine. “You owe me a chance to get to know you more,” he says, nuzzling my cheek. “And you owe yourself a chance to explore this.”
I owe him.
Amelia, you owe me some kind of commitment.
I jolt, coming back into my body, and Jude looks up at me in the mirror, his hands holding me tighter on my neck and hip, as if he’s aware—and worried—I’m about to withdraw.
“I have to go,” I say.
His frown is colossal. “What?”
I wriggle free of his fierce grip, pulling at my dress, before moving to my hair, brushing through the ends, trying to make myself presentable. My hair wouldn’t be an issue if I had only fucking tied it up.
“Amelia, what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m here on business,” I say with grit. “I don’t believe you are included in that.” I walk to the door. “And I owe you nothing.”
“What the fuck?” Jude breathes. “Amelia!”
I haul the door open and quickly get yanked back into the ladies’. “What are you doing?” I yell, losing my shit. He’s already pulled me away from the conference during the keynote speaker. I’m distracted, my eye off the ball. I can’t allow that.
“You wanted me to kiss you just then. So what happened?”
“I don’t want to see you, not today, not tomorrow.”
He recoils, looking injured. It infuriates me even more.
“Do not contact me.” I pull the door open again and storm out, getting more and more worked up. How dare he. Iowehim?
I owe him a slap. Nothing more. “Fucking hell,” I hiss, tugging at my dress, the material sticking to my clammy skin. Distress isn’t an emotion I’m used to. I don’t like it. Not at all.
By the time I make it back to my coworkers, I’ve missed fifteen minutes of the opening welcome speech. I apologise to Gary, assuring him everything is fine, and take my seat. But can I concentrate? No. And that only angers me more.
Chapter 12
I’m on the verge of tears, fighting to hold them back, when everyone is guided from the auditorium. It’s pure frustration. Disappointment, but only with myself. I remained caught between my focus and daydreams while highfliers of the financial world talked about their journeys, the changes they’ve seen over the years, and what’s to come. Jude Harrison poked at every corner of my mind constantly, disrupting my concentration. I’m not walking out of this conference feeling nearly enlightened enough. Not about matters of my career, at least. I am, however, enlightened, if I needed to be, that Jude Harrison is a man on a mission. And I want him.
But I shouldn’t have him.
After dinner I search for Tilda Spector, hoping to get my day back on track. A lady stands outside the Kent Suite, a tray of cocktails in hand. “No, thank you,” I say, smiling as I help myself to a water instead. I spot Tilda across the room and smile when she waves me over, forcing it to remain in place when I see Leighton’s already sniffed her out. My nemesis is a fucking leech. “Tilda,” I say, accepting her continental kiss.
“Amelia, how have you found today?”
I cringe, not because Leighton has just followed Tilda’s lead and kissed my cheeks too, but because I’m not nearly as furnished as I should be. So I simply say, “Excellent, you?” throwing it back at her.
“Tilda was just telling me she’s gearing up to retire,” Leighton says, his smile at risk of splitting his face as he sips his drink. He’s not heldback on the temptation of a cocktail. No surprises there. I expect he made the most of the free wine on the tables at dinner too.
“Really?” I say, sounding genuinely staggered. So the rumoursaretrue.
“Slowing down,” Tilda clarifies, giving Leighton a high brow. “I’m only fifty-two.”
“And looking ravishing as always.”
She laughs under her breath before taking my elbow and leading me away from him, much to his disappointment. Shame on me, I smirk over my shoulder at him.
“Come take a seat with me.” Tilda leads me to a table and pulls a chair out, encouraging me to sit. “Now talk to me.” She takes a seat. “What’s the future hold for Amelia Lazenby?”