Bangkok (That Wedding Girl Book 3) Page 2

“So, are you hiring a PA as well? I bet you’ll have some fun with the interview process, plenty of hot girls willing to work for you,” I tease, and he returns with an amused grin.

  “Believe it or not, I think I’m self-sufficient enough to not require the services of an assistant. Maybe a virtual assistant, or someone part time down the track.”

  Yes, I can believe he thinks he’s self-sufficient enough. “If you can’t find the right person, I can always lend you Gabe. But not too long, I’ll want him back!”

  “I take it he enjoyed planning the wedding, too?”

  I nod, giving him a heck-yes look. “I think it’s safe to say it was an experience I won’t forget any time soon.”

  My heart melts at the memory of being in beautiful Amalfi Coast, spending quality time with my dear friend Amelia and eating copious amounts of pasta and Caprese salad. Not to mention sharing a night with Matteo, the Italian hottie. I grin to myself, sipping my drink.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “Huh? Oh nothing.”

  “What about that man you were supposed to meet?” His voice takes on a hard edge.

  I almost choke on my drink, and I gulp the liquid down my throat quickly. He remembers that? He wasn’t supposed to know – I was on the phone to Tristan when Gabe barged in and felt the need to tell me about Matteo. I thought he had forgotten all about it, but clearly I am mistaken.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, my face not giving anything away.

  Avoiding my glance, he takes a big sip of his scotch. Change of topic needed, stat.

  “So, what are you doing in New York?”

  He raises his glass to the bartender, signalling him to make another one. He hasn’t even finished his current one yet. “Like I said, I’m there to tie up some loose ends.”

  “Your chattiness is mind blowing! Are you there to see your…” I stop myself, unable to continue. Is he there to see his ex, the former boss’s daughter? The idea of him meeting up with a woman makes me really uncomfortable.

  “Who do you think I’m there to see?”

  “Nothing, continue,” I say quietly.

  “If you really must know, I’m there to interview some people to join the team. I reported to David Rogers before he left Greenhills and he’s interested in taking up the Corporate Events Director Role; he will be a great asset. I’m also meeting Matthew Willis, who I think will make a fantastic Head of Operations. Not to mention, I’m meeting a big name client to discuss designing a corporate holiday event. As I said, I’m there to tie up some loose ends.”

  Oh.

  “What did you think I was going there for?”

  Instinctively, I grip the glass tighter. “Never mind.”

  “Anyway—”

  “What happened with your boss’ daughter?” I blurt out, raising my voice. My curiosity gets the better of me.

  His eyes widen slightly.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I just do,” I say, failing to suppress my rising panic. Surely he can’t be going back to New York just to interview some people. He can do that via webcam, or phone call. Tristan wouldn’t fly half way across the world for something he can do back in Sydney, he just told me about being able to do planning anywhere in the world.

  He looks at me, his eyes sharp. “Whatever you’re thinking and I think I have an idea what it is, stop it. There’s no need for speculation. My trip is purely business.”

  I shrug casually.

  “Let’s just say we wanted different things.” His voice is quiet.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning when we couldn’t come to an agreement, I thought it was best to leave the company and start afresh.”

  “Did you two…err…?”

  Tristan takes a sip of his drink. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

  I want to know, dammit! “Are you still friends?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did your boss know?”

  He gives me an ‘are-you-for-real’ look. “No, and I would prefer to keep it that way.”

  Suddenly the bartender comes by with Tristan’s third scotch, and I grab a few nuts from the trail mix. I shouldn’t care, but that pang of jealousy is there. I hate that it’s there, and there’s nothing I can do. Tristan whispers something inaudible to the bartender, presumably to order another drink. Geez, how many does he need?

  “I got you something from Italy,” I say, keen to change the subject.

  He smiles, looking pleased. “Whatever it is, I’ll like it I’m sure.”

  “I figured your place could do with some decorating. I’ve been to dentist’s offices that look better.”

  He laughs softly, his shoulders loosening. “Oh really is that so?”

  “It’s neat. I’ll give it that,” I smirk. “But I suppose it’s an improvement from the slob you used to be…”

  Tristan glares at me playfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You used to be allergic to doing chores. Only my mum could get you to do the dishes, and you did them terribly. You could never scrub them properly!”

  “As if you can talk. Wasn’t vacuuming your responsibility? Because I never saw a clean carpet at your house.”

  I scoff loudly. “Trust me, not even a Dust Buster 1000 would be able to clean up after you and Hansley.”

  He shakes his head, smiling inquisitively at me. “Well my place is a lot neater now, isn’t it?”

  “Err…only because there was hardly anything in it. Once you unpack it will probably be a pigsty.”

  A loud snigger leaves his mouth. “You are unbelievable. Fine, I’ll have to invite you over more often to inspect it for me.”

  He rests his elbow on the table and looks at me, whiskey-hued eyes intense. I shift in my seat, squirming inside. Why does he have this effect on me? One minute he drives me crazy, and the next minute he drives me really crazy. The only way to keep things going along smoothly is to keep teasing him.

  The bartender serves Tristan’s drink, except this time it’s a more vibrant looking drink. It’s got a wedge of lemon and a maraschino cherry sitting atop the light orange liquid.

  He takes a short sip. “Whiskey sour. Here, try this,” he offers his drink to me.

  “I can’t drink, remember? Besides, I wouldn’t want your cooties,” I tease.

  “Think it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” he blurts out and my face drops immediately. A heavy silence settles over us, only muted by the quiet jazz music.

  Things just got awkward, real fast.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I turn away from him to face the bar, poking the ice in the drink with my straw. He said he wanted to keep it professional, but he’s talking about it. And joking about it, no less.

  “Sorry, too soon?” He finally says, his tone slightly edgy.

  I pause for a moment, lost on how to answer. I can feel him watching me as I keep my focus on the glass.

  “No, its fine,” I take a quick sip of my sip.

  He looks relieved, “Thank god—”

  “It’s not like it was that good,” I mutter under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

  “Excuse me?” I can hear the disbelief in his tone.

  Boy, it feels fantastic to insult him, even if I’m lying. “You heard me.”

  He’s the recipient of the coldest glare I can give him while holding back my laugh.

  I can practically hear him grit his teeth, and he pours the rest of his whiskey sour down his throat in one swift movement. Not the best idea, how much has he had to drink?

  Slamming the glass down on the table, he looks at me. Eyes blazing. “No one has said that to me. Ever,” he growls, and I know I have affronted him. “I have never had any complaints in that department.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, not to your face.”

  His eyes are now seething with insult, and he leans back in his chair. “Okay, I thought we could be professional about it but clearly somebody
has some unresolved feelings about it.”

  Thank god the bartender is on the other end serving because I don’t want him to witness this.

  “Unresolved feelings? You kissed me, remember? Not to mention you were the one who bought it up!”

  He scoffs, his arrogance back in spades. “It hardly felt one-sided, you were begging for more.” God damn, I hate that he’s right.

  My heart flutters at the memory, the sensation of his hot mouth on mine, the way he smelt, and the way his hands tugged at the back of my dress. The way I was trembling under his touch…

  “False. But…”

  “But what?” He asks, impatiently demanding an answer.

  But yes, I did want more. I do want more. I wanted him to touch my body more, it beggars belief but I did. I do. I can’t admit that now because he said it could never happen again.

  “Never mind,” I murmur.

  He breathes sharply, opting to look straight ahead at the bar. I peek up at him, and I see that same torment that was on his face after he kissed me. What am I doing? Things from a hundred to zero real quick. Change of topic needed, stat.

  “Look, forget I said anything. I know you were doing it to be nice or whatever. I really appreciate it, but I can pretend like it never happened. Everything’s cool between us, okay?” I say softly.

  He keeps looking at the bar, seemingly ignoring me. I should go. I quickly drink the rest of my iced tea and hop off the bar stool.

  “I think I better go. I need my laptop anyway. Thanks for the dinner company, keep me in the loop about that assignment, alright?” I ask politely. Maybe he’ll change his mind now about working with me! Oh dear.

  Without another word, I leave him sitting there but I need to use bathroom first. Just around the corner of the bar, the toilets are gorgeous, spacious and secluded. All black marble and dim lights, I am greeted by fresh orchids and the smell of frangipanis.

  I blew it. Just when I thought we were getting somewhere I had to put my foot in it. But I can’t help it, he brings it out in me. He is so damn arrogant sometimes, he needs to be put in place. How dare he say I was begging for more? He practically attacked me with his mouth and hands, I barely had a chance to breathe, let alone react. Even if it’s true and I did want more, I can’t admit it, especially when he said it can never happen again.

  Flushing the toilet, I step out and wash my hands, checking myself in the large gilded mirror. There’s some complimentary frangipani oil perfume and I spray it on myself. Delightful! Now, I can smell fresh for the plane ride home, which can’t get here soon enough. Some time to myself would be nice, being alone with my laptop is where I feel right at home.

  I check the time on my phone. 7:15pm. Another two hours until my flight. I’ll grab my bags and go back to the gate and wait for the plane. Straightening my dress, I push the bathroom exit door open.

  “What are you...?”

  It’s Tristan, standing outside the bathroom staring right at me. His gaze penetrating to the depth of me, there is not a trace of humour in his eyes, and muscles deep in my belly tighten. I swallow hard, giving him a what-do-you-want-now look.

  “Hey look, let’s just—”

  All of a sudden, I’m pulled forward and I am almost flung out of the bathroom. Tristan’s grabbing my hand, racing me down the quiet hallway. He has my hand in a vice-like grip. Taking a right turn instead of left and back into the bar and lounge, he takes me somewhere a lot more private.

  “What are you doing?” I try and yank myself away but who am I kidding, it’s Tristan. He’s a giant compared to me.

  We reach a door and Tristan pushes it open, taking me to another a private bathroom. It’s roomy and decadent. Tristan sweeps me inside and locks the door abruptly.

  “What the hell—” I cross my arms, in an effort to mute my now thumping heart.

  My heart rate inexplicably increases as he places his hands on my shoulders, pinning me to the wall. I’m intimidated, but mostly I’m exhilarated. It’s animalistic, but possessive in a way that makes me melt, absolving any irritation I have towards him.

  “I was being nice?” His eyes are hooded, smouldering and lustful.

  “What?”

  “Goddammit, you know what I’m talking about.” He places his hands on the wall behind my head, effectively boxing me in. “You think I kissed you? I touched you because I was being nice?”

  I look at my feet, scared to answer.

  “It’s okay, you can be honest,” I murmur. “You don’t have to tip toe around me, you can do whomever you want.” I meant to say whatever instead of whomever, oops.

  His mouth pops open, thrown off my statement. “I don’t understand.”

  Between Hansley wanting to set him up with his hot roommate, him and his ex-boss’ daughter, and what I’m sure is a throng of women who would be interested in him, I don’t need him to give me some feeble excuse for why he did all that. He’s already rejected me, why does he need to keep bringing it up?

  “I’ve moved on from it, alright?”

  “What the hell happened with that man in Italy?” His voice is angry and I look away, completely startled.

  “What man?” My mind is scrambling to catch up with his sharp memory and curiosity.

  “Cut the shit, tell me.”

  I peek up at him. “It’s none of your business.”

  He breathes sharply. “It most certainly is.”

  “I beg to differ. Besides, why do you care?”

  He clenches his jaw, his eyes turning dark. “Now that you work for me, I need to make sure you can take care of yourself. I feel…responsible for you.”

  “And you think holding me hostage is going to help?” I tease. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”

  He scowls at me and I roll my eyes at his melodrama. “Nothing happened. Something could have happened but…” I pause, forcing myself to stop the words coming out. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

  “But you wished it was me,” he smirks, seeing the truth on my face.

  I flush scarlet, staring at him with utter astonishment. “W—what?”

  “You heard me,” he says, echoing my earlier words. He stares down at me imperiously and moves his hands to rest on my shoulders. The heat of his hands scorch my skin. How does he do that, go from serious to cocky like that?

  “In your dreams.”

  A wicked gleam appears in those sexy amber eyes. “You can admit it,” he says, his voice soft as he kneads his thumbs on my shoulders. My knees grow weak and a shiver passes through me. Pressing my lips together, they feel dry. Really dry. I resist the urge to lick them, not wanting to give myself away.

  “False,” I murmur breathless, trying to squirm out from his grasp. He’s holding me very tightly. He’s not getting anything out of me, not if I can help it. I can do this all day if I have to. Well technically, for the next ninety minutes as I have to catch my flight.

  “I can always tell when someone is lying. And you are lying through your silk panties.”

  That devilish smirk makes a sly entrance and he grips his hands tighter on my shoulder, compelling my insides to scream.

  “You said we had to be professional, and it could never happen again.”

  “I know what I said.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  He swallows quietly. “I find it thoroughly impossible to control myself around you. To think how things have changed since high school, you’ve changed a lot,” he says with a trace of humour.

  “Can’t say the same for you. You were one annoying S.O.B back then, you still are now,” I mutter teasingly.

  That wickedly handsome smile is back. “Come on, you had the biggest thing for me back in school. All those times you knocked on our door to get us to shut up, or ask us about our summer camp, or anything at all. You really wanted to see me.”

  How can he bounce back to his confident and smug self just like that? “Was not! You guys always made such a racket. Horrible, blistering white n
oise.”

  “And your constant questions about our camping trips? Did you really care about us toasting marshmallows every night, and playing tug-of-war?”

  I was just being nosy, it’s what I do. His eyes linger on my mouth, now wide open, and I fidget with desire. “I was always a bit chicken to leave home for that long, I wanted to hear what you both got up to. You guys were gone for the whole summer.”

  “Because you missed me right?”

  “No, I was sad that the peace and quiet I had all summer was rudely returned.”

  He scoffs at me. “What about the time you saw me in my boxers when I was playing the guitar? You just stood there, staring at me. I could practically collect the drool coming out from your mouth.”

  I blush furiously at his recollection. That was the first time I had seen a boy half naked. He’d filled out with muscle long before his peers and his voice broke before he was officially a teen. I avoided him for a week after that, because I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I thought it was a memory only I retained.

  “As if. I couldn’t move because my ears were bleeding with shock at how off key you were. You always had those gross overgrown fingernails that picked at the strings like you were trying to pull them off the guitar,” I mock.

  He laughs softly, looking at me indulgently. “Well I’m glad you listened, even if it was bad. I liked playing for you.”

  The way he stares at me is making my insides flood with aching lust. Damn. What is he doing to me?

  “Hansley’s little sister having a crush on me. I liked to play it up, it was fun teasing you. Making you all red, like you are now.”

  “I did not have a crush on you, I couldn’t stand you! And I’m not red,” I say, exasperated. Traitorous cheeks.

  “It was cute, I just took it in stride,” he flashes me a lopsided grin.

  “Aha, it all makes sense now.” A light bulb flashes in my head. “You had a crush on me.”

  He purses his lips in disapproval, mortified at my suggestion. “Uhh no. You were thirteen when I was in senior year, I wasn’t exactly interested in underage prepubescent girls at that age…”