Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I stand there, I don’t follow her, or I won’t let her leave.
There’s shuffling about and then the door opens. The door shuts.
Then I’m alone again. And that’s the way it should be. She might hate me, but she left here before she did something she might regret, even if I would not.
Chapter Six
Tyler
Two months later...
When a butterfly spreads her wings, you never clip them. You admire them from afar. Bella is a butterfly. A beautiful, blonde butterfly with gorgeous blue eyes, and a fiery personality that spans a rainbow of colors. Not to mention intelligence, negotiation skills, and a body that would rock any man’s world. Especially in the black, form-fitting dress, she’s wearing tonight. I watch her from the other side of Hawk Legal’s rooftop entertainment area as she mingles with a mix of the rich and famous clients we cater to here at the firm.
With a full two months passing since his death, we still battle the whispers in the hallways and among our clients about my father, the killer, the monster. The disgrace.
Tonight should have been the ringing in of a new era, with me officially the reigning CEO, and President of the Hawk empire. But outside of the complexity of our business, which stretches far beyond legal services, is the complexity of my father withholding his will for sixty days. The final details of which should have concluded yesterday. That was until the attorney, and executor of the will, went off and broke his arm skiing in Colorado. Now it will be days longer before the details of my inheritance and the company handoff are revealed.
Bella does a little twirl, obviously, a part of a story she’s telling, and the faces around her light up, the clients she’s entertaining are obviously charmed and quite properly.
Allison wasn’t a butterfly or she’d never have sought out my father after I turned her away from my bed. She was a firefly lighting up the night, always a spark to be found, and most of it in the form of attitude. The two women could not have been more unalike.
Bella laughs, and while I can’t hear the sweet sound of her voice, her head tilts back, the creamy expanse of her neck on display, and my damn cock twitches. It twitches every damn time she walks into my office, the ice queen who has frozen me out since I showed her the bastard in me is alive and well.
I think about how close I came to taking her to my bed, how close I came to fucking her until she saw stars. But she is not for me, I remind myself—yet again. It would break me, but that is a joke, I would break her. She would hate me. She came to my apartment to keep me company and I needed that company. Translation: she’s too damn good of a friend and a person for my hand to burn her the way it abso-fucking-lutely would if I got the chance again to make it happen.
Because I wouldn’t let things end as they did last time if there was a next time between us.
I turn away from the glorious sight of her and rest my hands on the railing overlooking the bright lights of Nashville’s bustling downtown. The February night is unseasonably warm enough to open the balcony doors but there is a chill in the air, the knowledge that my father left this world a man without honor. I vow right here and now that I will never allow myself to become a monster like Jack Hawk.
“Hey.”
At the sound of Bella’s voice, a punch of unruly awareness burns through my veins. There is something about this woman. There has always been something about Bella. She is off limits, I tell myself before I even consider acknowledging her. I did the wrong things, even if I felt like they were right at the time. I rotate to face her, each of us resting an arm on the railing.
“Bella,” I greet.
She searches my face, far too comfortable in her intimate inspection when no one else finds me this approachable. But then, she is Bella. That is the answer I have to all things with this woman. No one else would have come to me after my father died, fed me ice cream, and then forced Patrick Swayze doing Dirty Dancing on me. Despite her track record of boldly going where no one else will go with me, she has also kept her distance these past two months. This is why I am shocked when she lifts her hand to touch my hand and briefly touches my arm before she awkwardly pulls back.
She has never touched me outside of that night at my apartment, and even then, the collision of our hands reaching for the remote had been accidental. I’d wanted to fuck her. She would have let me, too. I’d seen it in her eyes, felt it in the air between us, a warm blanket of lust and desire cloaking us in the moment. But she would have regretted it the next day.