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He nods and walks back into the kitchen. Shit. I think I’ve hurt his feelings.

“Dinner smells great,” I say, trying to keep upbeat. The dining table is set again, there’s a breadbasket and a bowl of salad in the middle as well as some condiments.

“Take a seat, I’m plating up,” he says unable to look at me.

I do as he asks and take a seat, and watch him move around the kitchen.

He’s put on a T-shirt which is a shame but probably for the best. Pierre places a plate down with a thick steak on it.

It smells delicious. He fusses around with some things before sitting down.

Silence falls between us as I fill my plate up with salad.

“I’ve got a meeting with The Mavericks tomorrow. ”

“You do. That’s fantastic,” I say, glad that he’s broken the ice.

“I’m going to start apartment hunting too.

I’ve taken over your home, and that’s not fair,” he says, digging into his steak, cutting off the conversation.

I do the same and let silence fall between us again.

“I’ve ordered a replacement for your thing, too.

Should arrive in the coming days. Sorry Frankie destroyed it. ”

I let my cutlery fall with a clank. “Stop. Please,” I yell at him, throwing my napkin on the table and storming off toward the bar where I grab the bottle of tequila. I don’t even bother pouring myself a shot, I take a swig straight from the bottle.

“Issy, what the hell,” Pierre shouts as he watches in horror as I throw back another shot.

Fuck. “I have to tell you something. Fuck. I don’t know if you are going to look at me the same. I’m disgusted with myself. I’m so sorry.”

Pierre gets up from the dining table and walks across the living room to where I am standing beside the bar. He places two large hands on my shoulders.

“Breathe. Whatever it is I can handle it. I’m a big boy.” Don’t I know it.

“I can’t look at you.” I stare down at the floor.

“Issy,” he says my name softly, probably wondering why I’ve lost my mind, and places a finger under my chin, lifting it so that I’m looking at him.

“It’s me. There’s nothing that you can say to me that will make me think any less of you.

” I know he means it, but I don’t know if he will after I confess what I did.

“You’re going to hate me,” I whisper to him.

“Try me. This is you and I starting again. You can trust me, Issy,” he reassures me.

I bite my bottom lip. Do it. Tell him. It’s eating you up inside. “Please don’t hate me.”

Pierre’s face softens. “I could never.” His thumb slides across my cheek. I hate how my body reacts to his touch still after all these years. Okay, here goes.

“Just so you know, there are security cameras in the living room,” I say super quickly.

Pierre’s hand falls from my face as he looks around the room. “Cameras?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier, but I didn’t think about it. Until … I … didn’t think you would … you know … um,” I stutter.

“You didn’t think I would …” As if the penny drops, Pierre realizes what I am talking about. “You saw me today?” he asks. I nod.

“I wasn’t spying. I was worried you were going to search through my room, and I didn’t want you seeing my vibrators, but I guess that doesn’t matter now,” I blabber.

“Vibrators?”

I wave his question away. “Not the point. I invaded your personal space when you thought you were alone.”

“When I thought I was alone enough to take care of my needs?” he states.

I want the world to swallow me whole right now. “Yes,” I answer. I’m not sure what he is thinking. He’s very calm which could mean he’s freaking out.

“And you saw that?” he asks, those hazel eyes narrowing on me. He’s upset. And rightfully so.

“Yes.”

“How much of it did you see?” he asks. Shit. Do I tell him I watched it all, or do I lie and tell him I swiped out of it before I could see anymore? “Issy.” His deep voice rumbles through me, making me jump.

“I watched it all,” I blurt out.

“All of it?” he asks, raising a brow.

“Yes. I couldn’t look away,” I confess.

“Where did you watch this?” he asks.

“In my office. Alone,” I add, just so he knows that his secret is safe with me.

His brows are high on his forehead in surprise. “Did that have anything to do with you coming home early?”

Lie. Issy. Lie. “Yes.”

“Is that the reason you were using your battery-operated friend?” His voice lowers as those hazel eyes never move from me.

“Yes.”

He takes a step toward me, his chest heaving as if he is trying to restrain himself. “Were you turned on over watching me get off to your scent?”

I swallow hard, my entire body tingling as nervous energy zips through me. “Yes.”

Pierre’s nostrils flare, his hands scrunch together, balling into a fist. He’s upset and so he should be. I violated him. “Come back to the table, your steak will be getting cold.”

Huh? “I’m so sorry.”

Pierre holds up his hand. “I don’t want to talk about it.

I’m starving.” And with that, he turns and heads back to the dining room table and starts cutting into his steak.

I’m so confused. Reluctantly, I walk back to the table and take my seat.

We both sit there in silence eating our dinner.

Once we are done, I tell him I’ll clean up, which he lets me do and disappears into his room.

I don’t see him again for the rest of the night.

I messed up.