Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Yes. It does. This is good, Faith. If all goes as planned, we’ll be going to court Thursday.” I decide a conversation about money and shopping is better saved for in person, but she goes there on her own.
“I need to be in court?”
“Yes,” I say. “You do.”
“I have nothing to wear here. I have to go buy something.”
“About that—”
“No. You’re paying off my debt. I will not use your money to go shopping. End of subject.”
“Faith—”
“No.”
“Rita is putting my card on file for you at Chanel and—”
“No. Move on, Nick.”
I move on. For now. “I’ll have a plane on standby for either Thursday night or Friday morning, whichever we decide we prefer. Any thoughts?”
“Friday,” she says. “I don’t want to put that pressure on us Thursday.”
“Friday it is,” I say, pleased that she so easily chose to stay here instead of go there.
She’s silent several beats, and then: “Nick.”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Thank you. For everything. Even trying to spoil me with clothes.”
“The only thank-you I need is you naked in my bed tonight. I’m going to be late, but I’ll update you soon.” I end the call, push away from my desk, and stand up, walking to the window. Maybe there were no murders. Maybe this is over the minute I get that autopsy report, but every day that passes, I feel the betrayal of my lies as much as I dread telling Faith the truth. How the hell do I tell a woman who has become everything to me, who I’ve asked over and over to trust me, that I thought she was a killer? I press my hands to my desk. I have to make her love me more than she can possibly hate me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nick
The “stupid” disease erupts not long after the evaluation comes in on Reid Winery. Every client I personally handle needs me personally, and why? Because they’ve done something stupid and the only pill that will fix them is me. It’s nearly six p.m. by the time the eruption calms down, but I’ve still managed to secure my Thursday court date, coordinate action with Beck, and pound on Abel until he confirms that the autopsy on my father has become one big fuckup. We are weeks from answering the murder question, and therefore weeks before I can risk telling Faith the truth.
Rita appears in my doorway. “Your broker has called four times,” she says, walking to my desk, an envelope in her hands. “I suspect that means he’s called your cellphone at least that many times.”
“I’ll call him back.”
“I know,” she says. “You’ve told me that four times. And I know, Nick Rogers, that you’re this mega-superstar attorney, but apparently, I’m older and wiser. So here is some sound advice. When someone controls as much of your money as that man does, and he calls that many times, call him back.”
I scrub the back of my neck. “Right. I will.”
“When?”
“Before I leave.”
She gives me a keen inspection. “You haven’t even started prepping for the Nichols meeting tomorrow, have you?”
“No. I have not.”
“What do I need to do?”
“Go home. I’ve got this.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“A few updates first. Number one: Kasey sent me the accounts payable for Reid Winery. All the bills are now paid in full, and I have it set up for him to send me the bills once a week.”
“Excellent.”
“Number two.” She sets an envelope on my desk. “This came for you. It’s from Faith. And if it includes further accounts payable, I haven’t paid them. I didn’t know if that’s what it was, and I didn’t want to risk invading your privacy.”
I arch a brow. “And you’ve cared about my privacy since when?”
“Since your privacy became Faith’s as well. Do you want me to arrange dinner delivery?”
“No. I’ll wait.”
She gives me a knowing look. “To eat with Faith.”
“Yes, my nosy-ass assistant. To eat with Faith.”
“Good,” she approves. “You’ve been alone too long. And on that note, I’m going home and leaving you alone.”
She heads for the door, and I reach for the envelope, opening it up to find a check for sixty thousand dollars and a note:
Nick,
You promised to take this, and I believe that you’re a man of your word. And I owe you this and so much more, and I’m not talking about money. I’ll be waiting on you when you get home.
Naked.
Faith
My lips tighten, and I reread the note a total of three times before I set it on the desk. I don’t want her damn money, but I do want her. And naked or not, I like the idea of going home to her. I exhale and tap the desk, and while it matters to me that she isn’t in this for the money, I want her to take the damn money back.
My cellphone buzzes where it rests on my desk, and I grimace at my broker’s number on caller ID yet again. But Rita is right. The man has a shit ton of my money.