Page 70 of Masked Seduction

I swallow, guilt thick in my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed. My friend Claire, you remember her, from the club? She’s dealing with some stuff. I guess it’s weighing on me too.”

It’s not the worst lie I’ve ever told, but it’s still a lie. And judging by the quiet in his expression, he knows it. But he doesn’t call me out. Doesn’t press.

Instead, he runs a knuckle gently down my cheek. “You want a bath and a good night’s sleep? You can have your own bed if you’d prefer.”

Part of me wants to say yes. To stay. To let him hold me and pretend, just for a few hours, that the world isn’t tilting under my feet.

But I decline.

“Thank you. Really. That sounds amazing, but I think I need to go home tonight. I’m afraid I’m not very good company right now.”

He nods once. No judgment. Just quiet understanding that somehow makes him even harder to walk away from.

“I’ll call the driver,” he says softly, reaching for his phone.

I glance down at my glass. “You’re not mad?”

“Of course not,” he says. “You don’t owe me anything, Jenna.”

That about undoes me. Because the truth is, I might owe him everything, and he doesn’t even know it.

He finishes his drink in one smooth gulp. I sip mine, just to have something to do with my hands. It helps. A little.

The car arrives too quickly. Or maybe not quickly enough.

He walks me to the elevator, his hand settling low on my back, fingers spread wide over my hips like he can’t quite let go yet. At the doors, he turns me toward him.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says. “Just wanted to tell you that again.”

My breath catches. He leans in, kissing me slow and deep, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of me. For a heartbeat, I nearly cave. I could stay. Let him undress me, carry me to bed, make love to me in that all-consuming way that makes everything else—my fears, the pregnancy, all the unknowns—fade away as he tells me I’m his…

The elevator dings.

“Jenna,” he says, voice low, fingers brushing my cheek. “You sure?”

I nod, even as everything in me aches to stay. “Yeah. I just, I need some air.”

“Okay.” He presses one last kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be here.”

I step in, heart pounding, my eyes glued to him until the doors slide shut.

Once I’m alone, falling back down to earth, I nearly collapse.

I have no idea what I’m going to do.

CHAPTER 25

ABRAM

She’s gone.

Her scent lingers, vanilla, warm and sweet. It makes my hands clench and my breath catch. I want her back. In my arms, in my bed. I want her laughing and looking at me like I hung the goddamn stars.

It almost scares me how much I want her.

But whatever she needed tonight, it wasn’t me. Or, at least, not the version of me I’m used to offering.

I pour myself a whiskey—neat, two fingers—and head for the glass wall overlooking the Strip. My kingdom. Glittering, dangerous, drunk on its own power. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like the man who owns it. I feel like a man who just let something priceless walk out his door.