Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“Come for—me?”
He strokes my hair behind my ear. “I didn’t want you exposed to them this quickly. And I didn’t want to have to prepare you for what being on his radar means, now or ever. We can’t do this now. You really have to make this meeting.” He kisses my hand and leads me back into the pace of the crush of the sidewalk rush hour. What does he even mean by he will come for me? I’m confused and nervous, and I don’t know Ethan well enough to know where his head is either.
We travel another block, and my mind races. Ethan made a point of focusing on me in that restaurant, and so easily a man like him, powerful and good-looking, could have played two women at once. He did not. And he pulled me into that alcove to make sure I knew what was going on, though I’m still fairly flustered and confused, but not for his lack of effort otherwise.
My reaction to what happened is my inherent insecurity, which is not Ethan’s fault. And the truth is, if that woman married his conniving brother, how much dirtier must this story be? My mind replays the interactions I’ve had with Ethan, and I’ve always felt there was a deep betrayal in his life—a reason he is single, a reason he values honesty so very much.
We halt at a high-rise building before entering a compact lobby without a security desk, which pleases me. I do not need a checkpoint and red tape right now. Once we’re at the elevator banks and he punches the call button, he says, “I will introduce you, and then I’m going to run to the bank. I’ll be back by the time you’re out.”
The doors open, and we step inside. He punches in the proper floor, and when the doors shut, I step in front of him. “I’m not like them, Ethan. I’m not used to being around people like them. And thank you for making me feel like I was the only woman at that table this morning. I just want you to know it mattered to me.”
He stares down at me for these long, intense moments, his handsome face unreadable, in which I begin to let insecurity kick back in. Maybe I said too much. Maybe I should have left things alone. The elevator dings, and I start to move away, but his fingers dive into my hair, and he lowers his mouth to mine. “You were the only woman at that table to me, Sofia. Don’t doubt that. No matter what happens, don’t forget that.” He kisses me, a deep, passionate kiss, and suddenly, I’m aware of us being watched.
I whip around to find a pretty brunette smiling at us. “Good morning. You must be Sofia.”
And this must be my new attorney, but all I can think about is what Ethan just said to me.
No matter what happens…What does he think is going to happen?
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“You must be Sofia,” the woman greets, her green eyes alight with amusement even as she motions me forward. “Please come off that elevator before the doors shut on you.”
Right, I think, and rush forward, stepping into the hallway. “Indeed,” I confirm. “I’m Sofia.”
Ethan steps to my side as the other woman offers me her hand. “Harper. I was trying to sneak over to Starbucks before you arrived. You want to go with me?”
“Of course,” I say. “I’ll never turn down a cup of coffee.”
Harper eyes Ethan. “You know, of course, you can’t stay.”
He laughs—one of his low, ultra-hot, manly laughs. “I know. I’m headed to the bank. I’ll be back in about forty-five minutes. In fact, I’ll ride down first.”
“Excellent idea,” Harper approves, her expression bright but her voice forceful. “More time for me and Sofia to chat about her contract.”
Ethan surprises me then by pressing his hand to my lower back and leaning in close to whisper, “She’s a bitch, but she’s your bitch.”
It’s not the joke meant for Harper’s ears, of course, that surprises me, but rather the ease at which he touches me in front of her.
“That’s true,” Harper approves, not the least bit offended. “Off you go, Ethan,” she adds, waving him away.
He laughs again, and his hand slides away, and with a quick punch of the button, his car has arrived and he has departed. “Before we do anything,” Harper says, “you need to hire me and activate attorney-client privilege. Do you have a dollar?”
“I have a twenty, for sure,” I say, opening my purse and removing it from the secret compartment I keep my stash cash, or my emergency money, as my mother had called it. She’d declared it necessary, and I’ve lived by that rule all my adult life.
Harper accepts the twenty and says, “I’ll buy us both coffees.”