But he had a formula, and he purposefully never talked about anything controversial. Nothing that could get too deep. And that was why none of his relationships ended up very deep.
He’d thought he liked it that way.
And then she had to go and ask about his family. The people who thought he was a commitment-phobic dilettante. His older brothers and his parents thought that moving to Miami had been all about putting off growing up. In reality, it had been the opposite. He wanted to settle down and have roots somewhere. But he didn’t want his roots to be underneath the stifling canopy of being a Laughlin in Chicago. His father’s reputation was so overpowering and lofty that it would always overshadow anything that Charlie did.
Her asking about them hit a nerve, and he was at a loss for how to respond.
Instead of trying and failing to make conversation during the rest of the ride to the restaurant, he brooded about his family instead. Laura sat with a serene demeanor, having no idea that she’d picked at something that had been bothering him his whole life.
His father’s shadow didn’t bother Jack, Danny, Sean, Jamie, and Michael as much. But it bothered Charlie. He wanted something of his own. And what he did might not be important journalism, but he liked the programs he was working on right now. He was letting people travel without leaving their living rooms.
He snuck a look at Laura through his peripheral vision. She was goddamned gorgeous. Elegant and utterly appealing. If she hadn’t been drunk the night of Jonah’s wedding, she never would have looked twice at him. She was the kind of woman who married a shady billionaire, not a bro from Chicago who owed his career to his dad.
He’d thought he would meet the right woman once he moved down here. Someone different from the women his mother thought he should be connected with—rather who his mother thought the family should be connected with.
He never thought he’d accidentally get married to a woman like Laura—gorgeous, talented, even Catholic—his mother would be over the moon. Except they weren’t going to be married for long. She didn’t want him, and that was a knife, deep in his gut.
When they got inside the restaurant, the maître d’ showed them to a table near the corner of the roof. He’d asked for a private table because Laura had seemed hesitant about being seen in public with him. He’d wanted to bring her here because he’d heard her when she’d said that she didn’t get many nights off, and he wanted to take her someplace special. He had to balance that against her desire to keep their brief marital affiliation private. Taking her out—even if that meant showing her off—had won out.
But when they sat down, it felt like a business meeting. Especially so when she reached into her purse and pulled out papers. Heat crept up his neck, and he clenched his jaw. This wasn’t a real marriage, and he should be surprised that she wanted out of it as quickly as possible. Still, he couldn’t help but feel rejected. He didn’t have to feel that way very often anymore—not unless he visited his family.
He chose to ignore the gauntlet she’d thrown down, disguised as some folded up sheets of paper. Instead, he picked up the menu. “The food’s good here. Do you like scallops?”
Laura ignored him and pushed the papers over. “You should look these over—have a lawyer look at them before you sign anything.”
Charlie looked up and stared into her inscrutable, nearly black, gaze. “Do you have a pen?”
She didn’t look away, but rooted around in her purse for a few moments, pulling out a black pen. He placed the menu carefully over his table setting, wanting to toss it instead. He opened the sheaf of papers, aware of her watching him the whole time. Not taking the time to read the document, he signed and dated the bottom and pushed them back at her.
He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that she’d brought the annulment papers out to dinner. In fact, he’d kind of expected it. She didn’t want to be married to him. They didn’t know each other, and he could almost feel her disdain toward him in the air when they were together. There was just some part of him that wanted to tap back into the kind of passion she’d had when she’d let go and danced with him the night of the wedding. He wanted more of that reckless abandon, that unfettered lust. Despite her cold exterior, he had the feeling that the woman he’d met in Bali was more of the real her, and he might be the only person who cared to coax her out.
The icy ballerina served everyone else—the ballet company, her family, even the dancer herself sometimes. But he couldn’t shake the notion that she’d zeroed in on him for a reason, goaded him into doing shots with her for a reason, married him for a reason. He just had to keep her hanging out with him long enough to find out.
“So, do you like scallops?”
* * * *
“You should really look that over carefully.” For a moment, when he looked at her over their annulment papers, she’d thought he wouldn’t sign them. There’d been so much anger and hurt in his gaze that guilt had rolled her stomach for a second. And then he’d signed them, pushed them away as though they were distasteful and asked her what she’d wanted for dinner as though nothing had happened. It was as though the pain shining out of him no longer existed.
He wanted to act like this was a normal date?
“Why do I need to look them over carefully? Did I just sign over a kidney?”
“No, we each keep what’s ours.”
He looked up from the menu again, this time a crooked smile on his face. His mouth was so fucking sexy. She wanted to taste him again. Wanted to pull his full lower lip in between her teeth and know she had him at her mercy. She wanted to roll around in the smell of him and fuck him. She’d never been quite so driven by the need to fuck as she was when she was around Charlie. She was a physical person, and he was objectively gorgeous—simply a well put together human—but there was something about him that drove her absolutely crazy.
She could almost understand marrying him impulsively if she were anyone else, if she hadn’t trained the spontaneity out of herself with brutal, ruthless precision.
When she didn’t stop looking at him, he winked at her, and her sex flooded. He was lethal and she would do well to forget it. She would have a nice, civilized meal with him. Keep it light—first and last date talk—and go home. She might run into him if she was hanging out with Carla and Jonah, but she didn’t hang out so her exposure to him would be limited.
She cleared her throat and looked down at her menu. Everything looked delicious. She wanted to order everything and take a bite of each dish. But that would be decadent, and she doubted her pas de deux partner would appreciate the overindulgence at rehearsal tomorrow. So she went forward as she hoped to move on with someone as scary-sexy as Charlie, she stayed safe.
“I think I’m going to get the salmon.”
* * * *
It was the worst first date that Charlie had ever been on. Awkward silences, stilted small talk, and an overly attentive server who had the gall to flirt with his date set his teeth on edge. Of course, the waiter recognized Laura. Being a ballerina was not like being a pop star, but she was a principal dancer and gorgeous to boot.
He really shouldn’t blame her for indulging the guy, but he wouldn’t fucking leave them alone, stomping all over his last nerve. But Charlie couldn’t help but want her to smile at him that way. There was no way he could charm his wife into dating him if she refused to pay him any attention.
The only saving grace was getting to watch her eat. He’d been prepared for her to complain or order something boring and healthy off menu, but surprised him. She made noises when taking the first bite and the second which curled around his dick like one of her soft hands, making it hard for him to breathe.
“Is something wrong with your dish, sir?”
Charlie shook his head, hoping to clear some of the filthy shit in his head. “No. It’s delicious.”
He