Chapter 15—Day Six: The Last Kiss In The Elevator

“You banged Cian MAcGregor?!” Riley squealed and Ivette rolled on her back, holding the tablet up so her friends could see her well enough. “Annet! You knew about this and you didn’t tell me!”

Ann only lifted a brow and withdrew the top of the ball pen she had been biting on from her mouth. “It’s not like you ever tell us about your activities with those Italian men. How’s Franchesca by the way?”

Riley’s cheeks flamed. “It’s Francesco and we broke up months ago!”

Ann rolled her eyes before staring into the camera with concern. “I assume the wedding date being pushed up stemmed from Aaron’s finding out.”

Ivette sighed, nodding. Somehow, five days away from Seattle managed to feel like years. She missed her friends. She missed home. But she dreaded returning now. “Yeah. He was mad and—I don’t—I can’t get married like this.”

“Well, say no. Call it off!” Riley said, but she soon paused, grey eyes clouded with confusion. “But. . .You’ve waited for so long to tie the knot with Aarie. I understand that Cian MacGregor is jaw-dropping, yum yum, pant-melting—he’s a perfect ten—I mean, did you see those shots on Forbes?! I right about died and went to heaven! He’s a looker, Ivy! Hot stuff and fucking ripped—“

Ann shot a frustrated look at the camera and Ivette found herself chortling for the first time in a while. Riley was like that. She got distracted easily when men were involved. Ivette liked to refer to Riley as Disney’s Princess Snow White. She did have the skin, hair and lips to match the look but it was more of a character thing, seeing as Snow White fell in love with the first man she had ever really seen or spoken to because he kissed her when she was unconscious.

That, right there, was Riley Preston. She fell in love if you smiled at her, or so much as looked in her direction. Unlike Ivette, Riley didn’t have a company to run or burdens upon her shoulder. She was the only daughter of Ruben Delaney, descended from a distant line of royalty, and she pretty much had her brothers do everything for her.

All she had to do was spend.

And her cards never reached their limits.

She lived the fairytale life.

Ivette envied her sometimes. She envied the affection Riley received from her father and brothers. Riley had never quite missed not having her mother around. They had filled up that space, leaving no space for loneliness to creep in. She also envied Riley’s carefree nature. Nothing could make her sad or cry—well, except her chosen prince charming at a particular point in time.

Ann, on the other hand, was the exact opposite of Riley. Cautious, overly meticulous, stern, cool, and she was a loner. She had her entire family in Seattle, but she preferred her alone space and time.

Ivette was somewhere between the two, but she tended toward’s Ann’s nature. Mostly. When she wasn’t drunk.

“...you are in love with Aarie, are you not?” Riley asked, popping a spoon of cereals into her mouth.

Ivette blinked, coming out of her reverie. She bit on her lower lip, unable to form an answer and Riley gasped. “Are you in love with Cian MacGregor?”

Ivette’s belly dropped and she scrunched her nose in obvious disgust. “What—no. I’m not. He has nothing to do with any of this, and I can’t love a man like him. He’s a jerk.”

Ann gave her a knowing look and toyed with her pen. “So. . .you’re really getting married then?”

Ivette sighed, shutting her eyes. “I don’t have a choice, Ann.”

Riley squealed happily, missing the heaviness in the air and bubbling about getting the finest dress for the wedding, but Ann leaned closely into the camera and said, “I’ll be here every step of the way, Ivy, but remember. You always have a choice.”

****

“Don’t fucking do that, Ivy. Don’t.”

“I’m not your slave, Ron. Stop ordering me around or trying to control me. I said I would marry you. I didn’t agree to be your stupid doll. You want to attend the useless interview? Fine! Go on ahead. I’m not going up that stage to play dumb and stupid while you steal my entire life’s work from me. Fuck off!” Ivette hissed, and people turned their way, hungry for the juicy drama that they expected would unfold.

Aaron raised his head and offered them small smiles as he leaned in and whispered, “We get on that stage together, and you announce the merger and everything I told you to. Do not vex me, Ivette.”

Ivette leaned further in, closing the distance between them and she looked him dead in the eye as she said, “I refuse.”

He blinked, surprise stark in his features. “You refuse,” he repeated like he couldn’t quite believe that Ivette had said ‘no’ to him, but then, she had never really told him no before, or had reasons to.

She flipped her wavy waist-length hair over her bare shoulder and jerked her head in her father’s direction. “As you said, I am merely a representative of Alden King. Take the interview with him. I don’t give two shits about keeping up appearances with you anymore.”

“Ivette,” Aaron growled in warning and she shot him a serpentine smile.

“Do your worst, Ron,” she threw over her shoulder before walking away. What was the worst he could do anyway? Call off the wedding? Break the merger? Those options didn’t seem entirely bad to her. Sure, there would be disadvantages but—she sighed rubbing her temples. There would be great disadvantages. Maybe she should not have been so stubborn. Maybe she should have just agreed to do the damned interview and announcement, but she knew she couldn’t handle being on that stage and yielding her entire life to him. She would break down, and the entire world would see it.

“Congratulations, Ms King,” a man she hadn’t met before said, tipping his wine glass in silent cheers. “I hear the wedding is happening tomorrow.”

“Deep breaths, Ivette,” she said to herself. She forced a smile onto her face. “Yes, thank you. Do attend.”

A few steps further and she’d received congratulatory messages from nearly the entire hall. Her breaths came faster and there was a painful pang in her chest. Her breakfast rushed up her chest and she felt like she would vomit if another person uttered another, “Congratulations, shall I call you Mrs Maxwell now?”

“Ivette.”

She drew back, nausea completely forgotten at the enticing timbre of Cian’s voice. Turning slightly, she managed to wear an irritated expression before meeting his gaze.

“What?” She snapped.

His eyes were hollow and filled with exhaustion. His hair was tousled as though he had been running his fingers through them the entire time. A stubble shadowed his chin and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a while. “We need to talk.”

There. Right there was a sentence she was tired of hearing. She didn’t feel like ‘talking’. She was done with the men in her life trying to ‘talk’.

“No, and what is your problem? Why won’t you leave me alone?!”

“I can’t.”

“Ugh!” She exclaimed, raising her hands in an exasperated expression. She spied Rosalind’s blonde head and tight face and she sneered before storming across the rest of the room to the hallway beyond, headed to the elevator, pissed as hell.

She heard his footsteps behind her and she quickened her pace, hoping to reach the elevator first. She did, in a few strides and she jammed her hand into the button. It dinged before opening and she stepped in, slapping the button to the first floor before he could reach it.

She leaned against the wall, staring up at the ceiling of the elevator. Why did he constantly pursue her and why did she always have to run from—

The elevator dinged and Ivette’s heart thundered when Cian stepped into it, eyes dark with an unreadable emotion. He approached her fast, crowding her space and there wasn’t much room left for Ivette to escape from him.

The situation became more of a predicament when he punched the button of the elevator, changing their direction to the top floor. Ivette’s eyes widened. “What are you—”

He flattened her up against the cool metal wall and his sensual mouth came too close for comfort. She shuddered when his fingers cupped her neck, tipping her head back to allow him more access. “I am going to kiss you now, lass.”

His brown gaze sizzled with raw desire and Ivette choked on her refusal when his lips crashed into hers.

Her eyes widened as heat struck hard and true deep in her core. His touch was charged with electricity and her body jerked in response. The invisible pull between them sizzled and she knew he felt it too because he groaned and gripped her waist, pulling her into him so she could feel all of him.

A small sound escaped Ivette when his tongue plunged between her lips, hot and slick and sensual. She shivered feverishly, stunned by the rush of desire that threatened to consume her. How had she resisted him for so long? The very air between them was charged with this insane attraction and her whole world melted for him. For his lips. For this kiss.

She needed more. She needed to touch him. She needed. She wanted. She craved. Her hands slid up his shoulders, searching for his skin. It didn’t matter where. She desperately needed to feel his skin.

Her fingers found the top button of his shirt...his striped tie and she grunted her frustration when it wouldn't budge as she pulled at it.

He grunted, shifting them, walking them into another wall as his hands dug into her back. Ivette pulled roughly at the tie and there might have been a rip, but she didn't care, not as she located the buttons and worked them.

Fucking hell. She would go insane like this. She could die like this. Him. His scent. His hands that were currently hoisting up her gown. His tongue that stroked against hers, hot and hungry. It was madness with Cian. It had always been this way since that first night.

His lips left hers and he groaned against her neck as his fingers found the hem of her thong. His hands went around her to cup her backside and he squeezed hard as he lifted her against him.

She vaulted onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and arching her neck for more of his lips and his tongue.

He moved again, turning their bodies and his erection rubbed against the vee of her thighs. Ivette mewled, clutching his shoulders for dear life and pleasure.

His teeth dug into the column of her neck and she gasped, shuddering. She ached so much it was unbearable. "Please," she moaned and her back arched as his hands trailed her side, stopping short of the curve of her breast.

She began moving against him frantically, holding on tightly and rubbing against the hardness underneath that was all him.

She was burning and she was soaring.

And when his thumb flicked her perky nipple through the lacy material of her gown, she bit down on his shoulder to avoid screaming.

He chuckled against her neck, but his voice was thick and husky. He flicked again and fire erupted in Ivette's core. She was mere flicks away from an explosion. Too fast, she was soaring. She could think, couldn't breathe.

And when he flicked her nipple again and thrust his hips into her soaking heat, she erupted in shudders and cries.

His grip tightened against her as she climaxed and he kissed her again, swallowing her sobs and moans.

Because she was sobbing.

She pushed off him, unhooking her legs from his waist slowly. She hugged her chest and hiccuped, sobbing like a child. Vulnerable. She felt so vulnerable. He'd done it again. Ripped through her defenses and wormed his way through her.

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" she cried, slapping his chest. "Why?! This can't happen between you and me! Why do you keep torturing me?!"

He took a step forward and his brown eyes were devastated. "Lass, I—"

"No," she sobbed. "No, no no."

He moved faster than she could follow and gripped her shoulders. "Listen!" he yelled and she breathed sharply. "Just once! Listen to me, lass. I doona know how to let you go. I cannot live like this. Perhaps I am an asshole as you claim me to be, but I know... I know that I'll go mad if I let you go."

"Why?" Ivette asked, eyes searching his for something, anything. Anything at all that she could hold on to.

But Cian said nothing, and she stumbled out of his hold.

"Goodbye, Cian," she whispered and on cue, there was a ding before the elevator opened.

And Aaron was standing in front of it.