"You all right?" He asked quietly. "Fine," she said. Too fast. The man Malcolm would learn his name later.
Ethan Blake hadn't seen them yet, but he was walking in their direction. Another 30 seconds, and there'd be no avoiding it. Malcolm watched Vivien do something he had never seen her do before. She hesitated. Vivien Sinclair, who walked into rooms like she'd already won, sat there hesitating, and something in Malcolm's chest, responded to that with a protectiveness he hadn't expected and couldn't entirely explain.
Then she made her decision. She stood up from her chair, turned to face Malcolm directly, and sat down, smooth, deliberate, unhesitating, right in his lap. The whole motion took maybe 4 seconds, and it hit Malcolm with the physical reality of it in a way that his brain was still trying to catch up to when she turned and looked straight into his eyes from a distance of about 6 in. "Kiss me," she said. "Low, direct.
No apology in it. My ex is watching." The beach kept going around them. Kids screamed in the surf. Music floated from somewhere up the shore.
Jerome was 30 yards away at a food cart, blissfully unaware. Malcolm didn't move. He was very aware of her weight in his lap. Very aware of how close her face was to his. Very aware that this woman, his client, his business partner, the CEO, who had sat across from him in boardrooms for 3 years, was asking him to perform something for an audience of one, using him like a prop in a scene she hadn't cast him for.
He should have been irritated. He was irritated, but there was something else underneath it that he wasn't ready to name yet. He kept his voice very steady. What aren't you telling me? She blinked.
That surprised her. She'd expected him to either play along or push her off. She hadn't expected a question. Malcolm, "I'm not asking you to move," he said quietly. "I'm asking you to talk to me."
She held his gaze and for just a moment, just a flash, he saw something behind the composure. Something that had been there a long time. He left me, she said. Four years ago, 3 weeks before the wedding, sent a letter. She paused.
He's got someone new and he's been smiling at me for the past 10 minutes from down the beach because he thinks I came here alone. And you didn't want him to think that? No. So, you sat in my lap. A beat. Yes.
Malcolm looked at her. Really looked. The way he rarely let himself look at her because looking at Vivian Sinclair too directly felt like staring into something bright. He saw the pride there. And underneath the pride, the wound.
He understood wounds. He'd been carrying his own for 6 years. He's not worth it. Malcolm said quietly. Whatever you think him seeing this will do, it won't do it.