Page 9

I turn and lean against the bar, settling next to him as we sip our drinks in silence.

It’s a great turnout. Ashton must be thrilled.

Zoey says he’s always nervous before a show.

But he doesn’t need to be. People fly in from all over the world when they know he’s about to offer new paintings for sale. He’s a celebrity in the art world.

I spot my father and Halliday entering through the main doors, Uncle Mal and Aunt Trudy in tow. I wait, but the door closes behind them. No sign of Sullivan.

“Figures.” I snort. “He’s probably at The Lanceford.”

Denver tips his head in a greeting to my father as I wave at them all.

“Sullivan?” he questions.

“Come on. You know as well as I do what he does there in the suite he has permanently booked.”

Benefits of being a billionaire family; your not-so-secret sex pad in one of the city’s finest hotels can be paid for upfront for months at a time.

Denver remains silent.

I sigh. “At least your lack of comment means my secrets should be safe with you too.”

I twirl the glass in my hand watching the bubbles rise and pop on the surface of the champagne. The voice that flows over me is deep and husky, a breathed whisper. One that makes me wonder if I even heard it at all, or just imagined it.

“Every part of you is safe with me, Sinclair.”

The evening lights of the city flow past the window as Denver drives me home.

We stayed much later than I intended to.

But once I got chatting with Halliday and Trudy about wedding dress styles and planning the wedding, the evening just flew by.

Halliday and my father have decided on Cape Town as the location.

I understand their reasons for it. It’s a new start.

A chance to make happy memories in a place that is shrouded in dark ones.

But going back to the place where we lost my mother and brother is going to be tough.

I haven’t been back since the day I saw them die in front of me.

“I know you all think I’m selfish and act out,” I say, my voice breaking the silence in the darkened car.

“I’ve never once thought of you as selfish.”

I shake my head at the easy way Denver says it, like he actually means it and isn’t just being polite to the daughter of his boss.

“I just…” My shoulders slump as I stare out of the window.

“Dad and Sullivan have always been so protective. I know they’re only doing it out of love.

But sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe.

My modeling shoots are the only time I get to travel out of the city.

But he…” I swallow the lump in my throat, unable to say my brother’s name.

“He loved to travel. He lived for adventure. He’d be so disappointed in me if I didn’t fight to maintain my freedom.

To have those possibilities. To chase after my dreams.”

“Sinclair,” Denver breathes. “You’re grieving. I’ve seen you battle with it every day since they passed. You’re strong. And you have more zest for life in your pinky than most people have in their entire body. He could never be disappointed in you. Ever.”

His deep voice and soft words are like a tonic to my soul, bringing a warmth to me in places where there’s only been frost for years. I think it’s the most I’ve ever heard him speak.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

We pull up outside my apartment building and Denver switches the engine off.

“You’re going to insist on walking me up, aren’t you?” I let out a soft sigh.

I know the routine. He walks me to my door and won’t leave until I’m inside my apartment and he’s heard me bolt the door.

I tested my theory two nights ago, leaving the bolt undone for the first fifteen minutes that I got home.

Denver was still standing in the hallway, guarding my door when I peered through the peephole.

He never knocked or called me out on it.

He just waited until I slid that bolt into place before he turned and walked away.

“It’s my job to?—”

“Your job, yeah, I get it.”

I turn toward my door as I purposefully reach out as quickly as I can and grab the handle.

The rough growl that’s expelled by my ear as he shoots across me and wraps his hand over mine has me holding back a shiver of excitement.

“Sorry, I forgot,” I say innocently, biting back my smile as Denver’s warm breath skates down the side of my neck.

“When you’re with me, I do that,” he rasps.

“Sure,” I reply, sliding my hand out from beneath his and sneaking a glance at him. But he’s already moving, exiting the car swiftly and rounding the hood to get to my door.

I take the hand he holds out to me, climbing out into the evening air. His large fingers splay out across the base of my spine as he maneuvers me toward the entrance of my building, his head swiveling as he scans the sidewalk.

We ride the elevator up to my floor in silence. His hand doesn’t leave my back until I open my front door and step inside.

“Hey, baby,” I sing to Monty as he sprints over to me, his paws skidding on the polished marble floor of the entryway. I bend to pick him up, dropping my clutch on the floor. He wriggles in my arms and licks at my face. “I missed you too.”

I give him a kiss on his head and put him on the floor. His butt shakes side to side and he whimpers as he pushes past me, impatiently.

Denver’s crouching, rubbing Monty’s ears as I turn. Monty looks at me, his brown eyes hooded in ecstasy as Denver’s giant hand engulfs his head. He looks so small next to Denver as he gently fusses him.

“Monty,” I call.

He ignores me, his back leg starting to bounce up and down as Denver hits a good spot.

I reach down to undo the ankle strap on my shoe. My heels are new and so high, I’ve been itching to take them off and give my feet a rest.

“Ugh,” I mutter as the silk hem of my dress snags on my bracelet.

“Hold still.”

Denver moves in front of me, bending on one knee. He expertly frees my bracelet and I straighten up.

“Thanks.”

My breath catches as a warm hand slides around my ankle, lifting my foot. I stare at him as he places my heel onto his thigh.

“They’ve made your skin red,” he grumbles as he eases the strap undone.

He slides the shoe from my foot, placing it onto the floor next to him, before bringing my foot back to rest against his thigh again. A warm pressure eases my aching muscles as he massages my ankle with strong fingers.

A tiny whimper slips from my throat as his thumb slides to the arch of my sole and traces a slow caress over it. I swallow down a lump of disappointment as he places my foot on the floor. But it’s only to switch sides. I bite my lower lip as he lifts my other heel, placing it onto his thigh.

“I never knew being on your knees like you’re worshiping your client was part of a bodyguard’s description,” I say with a teasing tone.

Denver looks at me from beneath his dark brows as he frees my other ankle from my shoe and gives it the same careful attention as the first.

“How’s that feel?”

The warmth from his breath seeps through the thin silk of my dress, climbing its way up to the apex between my thighs.

I suck in a breath.

“It feels… weird.”

His thick brows flatten over his eyes, and he frowns, looking at my shoes like they’re the cause.

My phone chimes with an incoming text inside my clutch bag.

“It’s fine. Better,” I add quickly, slipping my foot from his thigh.

He passes my clutch to me as he stands. I pull my phone out and smile as a text pops up on the screen.

“Brad said he can squeeze me in for a session in the morning.”

I type back quickly, happy for the distraction from the weird sensation that’s dancing low in my core. A workout is exactly what I need. I didn’t have any plans tomorrow except going to see Sullivan and Molly. Brad’s usually fully booked. He must have had a cancellation.

“What time?”

I look up at Denver. A muscle in his cheek tightens as our eyes meet.

“Eight,” I answer.

“I’ll be here at seven thirty.” He bends to pat Monty on his way out, stopping at the door like he usually does and waiting for me to come and close it behind him.

“Sure, sounds good.” My eyes travel back to my phone, and I click send on my message.

“Lock the door,” Denver instructs gruffly.

“I know.” I give him a tiny salute as I close the door.

Monty sits at my feet, watching the door as I secure the lock. He’s just hoping for another ear rub from Denver’s giant hands.

“Come on, baby. Bedtime,” I say.

He doesn’t move, except to lower his head and sniff at the base of the door.

I tiptoe over and check the peephole. Denver is still standing outside, hands on his hips, head bowed like he’s deep in thought.

Why hasn’t he gone? I did the lock. My hand hovers over it, considering undoing it and asking if he’s forgotten something.

But then a low curse breaks from his lips and he turns, walking away.

The sound of the elevator dinging outside signals his departure. I bend down and pick up my shoes from the floor. The crystals covering them shine like tiny shards of glass. I turn them in my hands, the recent memory of warm fingers against my skin coming back full force.

“Bedtime, Monty,” I repeat.

I glance back at the door.

This time, Monty comes.