Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Does it have to mean anything?”
“I don’t think I get a choice.” I knew I couldn’t freeze time. People talked about living in the now, but that was bollocks. The now was past as soon as it was spoken about. Now didn’t exist more than a second before it was gone. This trip, what we’d shared physically and professionally—it had changed things between us.
“It can’t just be an office fling?”
The waitress came with Sofia’s drinks and when she set them down, I shifted them so they were in front of the seat next to me.
“There’s two things wrong with that statement. The first is that an office fling comes with strings if I’m the boss and she’s my employee. It’s just a fact.” I wasn’t an idiot. There was more than one reason I didn’t shit where I ate. It made things too fucking complicated. “And the second thing is that . . . she’s a big deal.”
Sofia in the office had started as a minor annoyance, had transformed into an assistant who seemed to know what she was doing and got bonus points for not letting my attitude and foibles get to her. As a lover, Sofia had started as a woman I wanted to fuck, but had transformed into a woman I couldn’t get enough of. Of course she was a big deal.
Before I could say anything further, the hostess interrupted us and Sofia appeared at our table. My breath hitched in my chest and I cleared my throat. She always looked gorgeous, but tonight she looked breathtaking in a tight red dress that covered her arms and cleavage, and hit just below her knee. She was completely covered up but no one had ever worn anything so sexy.
I took the jacket folded over her arm and nodded toward Tristan. “This is—”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sofia,” Tristan said, standing as he reached out his hand. “I’m Tristan.”
Sofia glanced to me for further explanation.
“Tristan is one of my oldest friends.” I guided her to sit down and then chastised myself that I’d chosen to sit in a chair so I couldn’t be closer to her.
“I thought you must have been joking when you said you had friends.” Her expression was like I’d just told her I had a twin brother called James. “How does that work? Do you have to hire them?”
Tristan chuckled from across the table. “I like her.”
She turned to me, smiling, and I reached under the table to slide a hand onto her knee.
“I hear you’re helping Andrew with this Goode situation,” Tristan said. “The guy sounds like he’d cut his nose off to spite his face. You’re doing well if you’re getting him on side.”
“I think it’s simpler than that. It’s good old-fashioned ego at work with Goode.”
“You think?” I asked. She’d never said that to me. I supposed we had never discussed his motivations; we’d always kept to cold, hard facts.
“Yeah, he doesn’t want to sell to someone who’s going to render useless what he’s done with Verity—though the irony of that doesn’t escape me. He doesn’t want to look foolish more than he wants to turn a profit. What I proposed to him today was maintaining his strategies but adding a subscription model—new for this publication, but not in publishing. It’s a different approach from burning Verity to the ground like some people plan to do,” she said, throwing an accusing glance in my direction.
I glanced at Tristan and he met my eye. I could tell he was thinking exactly the same thing I was.
Yeah, she was a big fucking deal.
Twenty-Eight
Andrew
Drinks with Tristan had been fine. Good, even. Yes, I knew I’d go back to London and face a subtle inquisition from the rest of the guys, but it was good to see Sofia in a social situation. She was relaxed and charming and so fucking sexy I couldn’t wait to get her back to the hotel.
At some point from leaving Tristan to reaching the hotel, something had shifted. Sofia had grown quiet. She was upset.
And I didn’t know why.
The lift doors opened on the fifty-third floor and I stepped out after her.
“Now that we’re alone, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I asked.
“Who said anything was wrong?”
I pulled my key card out of my wallet, ignoring her. She didn’t have to tell me what was the matter, but there was no point pretending everything was fine.
“Are you coming inside?” I asked, holding open the door to the suite.
“It depends,” she said, folding her arms and leaning on the door. What the fuck had crawled up her arse when we left Tristan? I wish she’d just spit it out.
I met her gaze and waited.
And waited.
“I have questions,” she said finally. “Questions for you. Things I don’t understand.”
“Okay,” I said carefully. I suddenly felt I was surrounded by landmines, and only complete stillness could keep me from being blown to bits. I hated the coldness in Sofia’s voice and the look in her eye that suggested we were . . . strangers.