Gia
Screw it.
The words echoed in my head as I decided to just let it all out. What did I have to lose?
"I walked in on my boyfriend cheating," I said, my voice steady, though the memory still stung. "And do you know what he did? He blamed me for it. Said it was because of my size."
Jeremy's expression shifted instantly, his sharp features hardening into something I couldn't quite place. Was that… anger? A shadow passed over his face, dark and unreadable.
"Maybe he was right," I muttered, almost to myself. "If I was…"
"Stop."
The command was firm, and it startled me. I stopped talking, confused for a moment. Maybe I was boring him with my sob story. God, I shouldn't have said anything.
But then he spoke again.
"Don't ever blame yourself for your partner's infidelity," he said, his voice low but carrying an edge of something fierce. "If a man makes you feel bad about your body, then you were dating the wrong guy ."
I sighed, shaking my head. "Don't I know it?"
He didn't smile back. His eyes narrowed, that shadow deepening. "Your ex is an asshole who doesn't deserve to be walking freely on the streets. He should be checked into a mental institution."
That made me chuckle, and I felt some of the weight on my chest lift, even if just a little.
Then his voice dropped lower, more deliberate. "You're beautiful, Gia. Your body is a prayer."
I stiffened, caught completely off guard. My heart did something weird in my chest, and I swallowed.
"You don't have to say that just to make me feel better," I said, my voice quieter now.
"I never say what I don't mean," he replied, his tone like steel, unwavering.
I looked up, and there it was, those piercing blue eyes boring into mine, dead serious. He meant it. He thought I was beautiful, and the way he said it made me believe he meant it.
My breath hitched, caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat, and I grabbed my champagne, taking a quick sip, just to have something to do.
But as I lowered my glass, I could still feel his gaze on me. The way he was looking at me suddenly made me feel hot, even though the air conditioning in the bar was working just fine.
Wanting to shift the attention away from myself, I asked, "So, what do you do?"
Jeremy took a slow sip of his whiskey before answering. "I'm a businessman."
That was it. No elaboration.
I sensed he wasn't the type to offer more than he wanted to, so I didn't push. Instead, I asked, "Do you come here often?"
"When I'm in the city," he replied.
I frowned slightly. "So, you don't live here?"
"No," he said, setting his glass down. "I'm here for a business meeting, and to see family."
The moment he said "family," my stomach sank. Of course, he was married. Of course, he was married. What was I thinking? A guy this hot, this put-together, single? Please. My eyes darted to his left hand, double-checking that bare ring finger I'd checked earlier. No band, still empty. His gaze followed mine, and he shook his head, a flicker of amusement crossing his face.
"No, I'm not married," he said, like he'd read my mind.
"Oh," I mumbled, heat creeping up my neck. God, I'd been so obvious.
"When I said family, I meant my son," he added, taking a sip.
I blinked. "So… you're divorced?"
"No." He leaned back into the booth. "I had my son when I was in high school. I was a teenager, raging with hormones, and too stupid to use a condom."
His honesty surprised me. He didn't sound bitter about it, just matter-of-fact.
I studied him. I studied him, curious now. He didn't look old. Mid-thirties, maybe late? All sharp jaw and steady hands, no gray in sight. "Do you regret it?" I asked, softer. "Having him?"
Jeremy exhaled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "No. Never." His jaw tensed for a second before he continued. "I just wish we were closer. We butt heads on almost everything."
I nodded. "Hopefully, he'll come around."
Jeremy gave a small shrug like he wasn't holding his breath.
"Do you have any other kids?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Nah. One's enough. Kids are a responsibility I don't want to be saddled with again." His voice was firm. "I just want to have a better relationship with my son."
I didn't know why, but something about that answer left me… disappointed. Maybe because some foolish part of me had already started imagining something with him.
God, Gia, get a grip.
I reprimanded myself, but it was hard when I watched him lift his glass to his lips. His fingers were strong, his hands big, and for a brief, ridiculous moment, I wondered what they would feel like on my body. Roaming. Claiming. And his lips… what would it be like to have them against mine?
I had never wanted to be kissed this badly by a stranger in my life.
Needing a distraction, I reached for my drink and took a sip, but the alcohol did nothing to quiet my thoughts.
He was watching me, those piercing eyes steady, like he was peeling me apart, layer by layer. Then he glanced at his watch and leaned in. "Want to get out of here? My hotel's just down the road."
Every voice in my head screamed a loud no. But I drowned them out, my lips moving before I could stop them. "Yes."
A smile curled his mouth, slow and satisfied. "Good," he said, and my heart slammed against my ribs, knowing I was about to cross a line I had never crossed before.