Five Years in His Bed

At two in the morning, I went out in the pouring rain to bring Victor the condoms he'd asked for.

He leaned against the doorframe of his penthouse and took the paper bag, letting his callused thumb brush across my knuckles. Then, with a soft laugh, he informed me that I had a blind date next Wednesday.

"Serena's coming back to New York. She can't find out you've been sleeping with me for five years."

"From now on, we're nothing to each other."

Chapter One

Victor made it sound like he was asking. But his deep, dark eyes held a careless kind of pressure.

He was worried that once the love of his life came home, she'd notice the thing between us that could never see daylight. So he was in a hurry to get rid of me before it all came out.

My fingertips, curled inside my sleeves, dug hard into my palms.

I forced down the sour ache rising in my chest, kept my face as calm as I could, and met his gaze. "Just text me the address."

Catching the businesslike distance in my voice, Victor frowned, so faintly it was almost invisible. But only for a second.

The rain outside was coming down hard. Cold water dripped from the ends of my damp hair onto my collarbone, and I couldn't help shivering.

My lips trembling, I said quietly, "It's late. I should go."

"Wait."

Victor turned and walked back into the spacious living room. When he came out again, he was holding a Loro Piana cashmere wrap.

Without a word, he wrapped it around me, bundling me up so tightly that all that showed were my eyes, still misted from the rain.

Flustered, I tipped my head up to thank him, and ran straight into a gaze that had suddenly gone dark.

His fingertips were still resting at the edge of the wrap near my throat. His Adam's apple moved, and then he said, low, "Why don't you stay tonight?"

I froze. Before my brain could catch up, my mouth was already moving. "Didn't you say... someone else was coming over..."

He cut me off sharply. His warm knuckles pressed against the top of my head, a little punishing, with an irritation he couldn't quite hold back. "You actually believed that?"

"Ella, is that what you think of me? Some jerk who sleeps around?"

"In five years, has there been anyone but you?"

That night, Victor carried me into the master bedroom. In the glow of Manhattan's neon pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows, at the height of it all, he leaned down and murmured against my ear.

"This is the last time."

"Serena's coming back soon."

"I don't want her to have any reason to suspect us. So be a good girl and go on that date."

He'd finally said the cruelest truth out loud.

My eyes burned. I turned my head and bit down hard on his shoulder.

*  *  *

Victor's stamina was always more than I could handle.

All that talk about men's energy falling off a cliff after twenty-five clearly didn't apply to him.

It wasn't until the pale fog of a New York morning was seeping through the gap in the blackout curtains that he finally finished what felt like an endless night, got up, and went into the bathroom.

Listening to the patter of the shower, I quietly gathered up my clothes from the floor and dragged my aching body to the guest room.

That was our unspoken rule.

Victor was a light sleeper and fiercely territorial. He never let anyone sleep beside him.

So for five years, no matter how worn out and exhausted he'd left me, the moment it was over I'd use the last of my strength to retreat obediently to the guest room.

The next day, by the time I woke up, it was already past nine.

I rushed through washing up and ran downstairs, and almost collided with Victor coming back from the penthouse gym.

He was wearing a gray tank top, the muscles in his back and shoulders smooth and powerful in the morning light.

"I had the housekeeper leave you breakfast."

I waved my hands and kept heading for the door. "No time. I'm going to be late for work. I still have to catch the subway."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "Why don't I just drive you?"

I was bent over in the entryway, changing my shoes. The words came out before I even thought about them.

"No."

"They're announcing the results for PR director today. If anyone sees me getting out of your car, I'll never be able to explain it, not in a million years."

Victor's hand stopped on the cap of his Evian bottle.

For a moment, the huge living room went dead silent.

A beat later, he gave a quiet, cold scoff. "Suit yourself."

Just as I pushed the door open to leave, Victor called me back and handed me a business card.

"Next Wednesday. Your date."

It was like something exploded in my ears, dragging me out of last night's warmth and slamming me back into reality.

After a night like that, I'd almost forgotten what I'd actually come for.

The real reason I'd agreed to bring him those things in the rain last night was that I'd planned to tell him, to his face, that I wanted to end this five-year secret for good.

So he wouldn't think I'd keep clinging to him.

I reached out and calmly took the card. Its sharp edges dug into the web of my hand.

My nose stung. I lowered my eyes and murmured my answer.

"I'll go."