Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Cole steps to my side. “Come with me,” he says again.
I set the cup down and turn to face him. “I don’t think it’s smart for us to walk out alone together.”
“That wasn’t a question, Lori,” he says, his voice tight, with an undertone of unmistakable anger. “This is me, your boss, telling you to come with me now.”
“We can’t walk out of this room alone together,” I repeat.
He narrows his eyes on me, his voice hardening, the whip of anger in his energy. “We can, and we will, because a) we have a client in need that comes before this party, and b) I’m your boss and that was a work directive, not a request. I’m going to take care of my client. You need to decide if my client is your client.” He turns and starts walking, expecting me to follow, or maybe he doesn’t.
I quickly step to his side, but I don’t speak. I was wrong in my reaction just now. I let personal feelings dictate my response, not business, and I could blame Lance’s appearance, but any excuse is unacceptable. I need to say that to him when we’re alone. “What are we doing?” I ask.
“Our jobs,” he says, motioning to Reese, who meets us at the door. “I have a high-profile client with law enforcement breathing down her throat. I’m going to my office to deal with it.”
“We’re winding down anyway,” Reese says. “I can handle this here. Let me know if you need me.”
Cole nods and opens the door, allowing me to exit first, and it’s only moments later that we step inside the elevator, where he punches the call button, but he doesn’t reach for me. He doesn’t look at me. He’s angry. I let the personal side of things affect my job. He said he would not be easy on me. I don’t want him to be easy on me. The doors shut and he sends a text message and by the time he’s done, we’re two floors up. The doors once again part and I step outside.
Still Cole doesn’t speak. We enter the main offices, and he flips on the lights. “My office,” he says, and that’s all. We walk together, side-by-side, and the silence continues. Finally, we are at his office, though I’m not even sure why this is a relief. It just is. He opens the door, flips on that light, and gives me room to enter. And I really don’t know what to expect next.
I step inside.
“Shut the door,” he orders, following me into the room, and crossing to his desk.
This time I do as I’m told without question. I shut the door and when I turn around, Cole is still standing, his fists pressed to the desk, clearly waiting on me. I cross the room, him watching my every step with those penetrating, unreadable blue eyes. I could sit, but I choose to stop between the two visitor’s chairs directly in front of him. And now, I’m waiting on him. Now, it’s his move.
Chapter thirty
Cole
Lori and I stand across from each other at my desk with no more than five minutes to spare before the line on my desk phone rings with a client update. I spent thirty seconds of that time staring at her, unfamiliar, barely contained anger, pulsing through me that may or may not have everything to do with her walking away from me at the party. Apparently, being called my wife after seeing her ex was disturbing enough that she forgot she was actually at the party to do a job. Or maybe it was the fucking orgasm I gave her right before she saw her ex.
“Do you love him?” I ask, because her answer defines how I move forward, how we move forward.
She blanches. “What?”
“Do you love him?”
“God no.” She steps forward and presses her hands on the desk, leaning in closer to me. “No, Cole. I do not, nor have I ever, loved Lance.”
“Then why do you hate him so much?”
“You just asked if I love him,” she counters.
“As the saying goes, there’s a fine line.”
“I never loved him. I was—”
“Infatuated,” I supply again.
“With his talent, which is far different from loving him. And it wore off even before I left him.”
“And yet you walked away from me in that room, and attempted to refuse to leave with me,” I counter.
“Not because of him. A man had just suggested I was your wife, which as your intern is a problem.”
“One in two hundred people we met together tonight suggested such a thing,” I say. “You overreacted.”
“You’re right,” she says. “I did. Had that man mistaken me for your wife any other time, I probably wouldn’t have reacted like I did, but Lance rattled me.”
“That pretty much tells me what I need to know.”