Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
I take a step back, shuddering, my body burning. “I’m so—”
“Don’t apologize,” she cuts in. She strides to the door, looks at me over her shoulder, just like in my fantasy. “This isn’t simple, obviously. But no sorrys.”
“You look so beautiful right now,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes.
“I mean it,” I say firmly. “Confident, determined, with your hair just messy enough to be sexy but tame enough to be professional. I’m a hypocrite, Izzy. Tell me to stop. Tell me I’m beyond fucked.”
She shakes her head slowly. “I can’t,” she murmurs.
When she’s gone, I try to work. Really, I do. I’ve got so much to deal with. Commercial projects, low-income housing, and the West Coast office. My foremen are probably wondering where the daily call is, or they might even be grateful for the break.
I end up in the shopping district, in a jewelry store I’ve never had cause to step foot in before. When I spot the earrings in the shape of musical notes, I know I have to get them. I don’t care if the price tag would make most people’s eyes water.
Toward the end of the workday, I slip the earrings into an envelope and head to the pit. The atmosphere is tense as I stride across the office. Clearly, everyone has heard what happened.
I place the envelope on Izzy’s desk—she isn’t here—and then leave.
As I ride the elevator up, I’m smiling like a goofball. I can’t help it. For the first time in years, something apart from work is firing me up.
CHAPTER 7
IZZY
“What do you think?” I ask Grandma, turning my head so she can see both earrings.
She smiles slowly. It clearly costs her effort. But her joy is genuine. It’s like Dom’s here, and he’s the one making her smile.
“Beautiful,” she whispers. “Oh, what a picture you make! How did you afford those? They look expensive.”
I shift awkwardly in my chair, picking at the fabric on the arm. “They were a gift, actually.”
“A gift?” She perks up, though her eyelids are heavy and much of her old light has gone. “From who?”
I shrug. “Just a guy. It’s nothing serious. But today, he sort of stood up for me. And I liked it, Grandma. A lot.”
“But?”
I laugh quietly. “How do you always know when there’s a but coming?”
“It’s one of my superpowers,” she says, voice growing quieter. I’ve almost exhausted all her energy.
“But it’s complicated,” I say. “Very, very complicated.”
Grandma’s eyes glaze over. Sometimes she gets this look like she’s going to—gulp—go. But the doctors have said she has a year, at least… but what will her life look like? She’s already getting weaker, slower, less like herself.
“Sorry?” Grandma murmurs. “Did you say something?”
“No,” I say, gently patting her hand. “Get some rest, Grandma. You deserve it.”
I wait until she falls asleep, then kiss her on the forehead. In the parking lot, I sit behind the wheel of my car, knowing I have to call Aaron back. He’s called me four times this evening, and he’s showing no signs of stopping.
I remember how Dom stood up for me earlier. He told me no one else is allowed to touch me. Which is insane. We’re strangers. And I’m going to ruin his life.
Wiping tears from my eyes, I call Aaron.
“You’re starting to make me mad, girl,” he spits. “What have you got?”
I have a copy of what was on the drive, not that I understand its significance. What if I gave him the files that show the offshore accounts, the possible tax avoidance, or fraud, or whatever else it is?
“It’s only been a week,” I reply. “You can’t expect me to produce gold like that.” I snap my fingers.
“Silly girl,” he hisses. “I could call the hospital this very moment, tell them to end the care. Is that what you want?”
“Grandma asked about you,” I lie. “She said she misses you and wants you to visit so you can play Scrabble. She knows you let her win, but she doesn’t care. She likes you, Aaron. She loves you.”
There’s a pause. For a moment, I think he’s going to soften up a little. But then he laughs nastily. “Don’t try to pull on my heartstrings. I don’t have any.”
He hangs up without barking another order at me, so maybe he does feel bad. A little. As much as he’s capable.
At home, I debate sending Dom a text. I want to thank him for the earrings, but I’m also aware that I’m giving him the wrong message. As far as he knows, he’s involved in a risky, fun romance. Or the beginnings of one. I never planned on seducing him when Aaron forced me into this role. It’s just so easy to like him.
I’m staring down at our message thread when I see three dots appear, meaning he’s typing a message. Butterflies swirl in my belly. The dots disappear, then reappear.