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)
But she was.
I cleared my throat and tried to focus on what was happening. “What?”
I turned and hung up my suit jacket, then took a seat before firing up my computer.
“I want to know if you’re going to fire me.”
I sighed. “Why would I fire you?”
Her cheeks were as fire-engine red as they had been on Friday just before she had spilled her drink all down herself. I bet they were that perfect shade just before she came.
Fuck. Had this woman cast a spell on me or something? Why couldn’t she just turn back into flour and yeast and get out of my head? I had to focus. There was a lot to do today.
“I just thought that . . . You know . . . because—”
“Get out,” I snapped. “Don’t disturb me again before midday.”
I needed to push Sofia Rossi to the back of my mind and keep her there. I had more pressing concerns that required all my Thinking Time and focus—like how to go about buying Verity, Inc. and restoring my grandmother’s legacy.
Twelve
Sofia
I wasn’t sure why I was here, but here I was. At Noble Rot on Lamb Conduit’s Street in Bloomsbury just two blocks from the office. I was desperate to make sense of what had happened on Friday night and figure out if I was seriously losing it.
If Andrew had heard everything I said, surely he would have fired me. Or at least reprimanded me this morning. I’d given him every opportunity. I knew he’d heard at least some part of my tirade, because he’d delivered that parting shot about my boss being a real arsehole.
Was it possible he didn’t care? I knew I was a good assistant, but was I good enough to dodge punishment for a 245—assault with a deadly weapon? Maybe my tongue wasn’t as sharp as I remembered.
I was back at Noble Rot because I wanted to know I wasn’t hallucinating on Friday. The way Andrew had reacted today when I’d asked him if I was going to get fired—it was like nothing that happened on Friday had actually happened. Either he was in denial or I was, and I wanted to know which one.
I didn’t expect him to be here again tonight. He’d left early for some meeting across town. Which made it easier to do what I was going to do. My plan was to simply ask Tony whether Andrew was “James.”
I’d brought up a picture of Andrew on my phone and I was just waiting for Tony to start his shift. Four minutes to go.
“Hey, Sofia,” Tony said.
“You’re early,” I said.
He winked at me. “You’ve been waiting for me. How sweet. What can I get you? Are you going to keep going down the list? I think the Emma Thompson is next.”
I smiled, trying to ignore the swirling in my stomach at the thought of a cocktail—Oscar-winning or otherwise. “Can I just get a glass of red wine? A Barolo if you have it?”
I’d let Tony settle into his shift and then I’d ask him.
Tony placed a glass of velvety red wine in front of me and I took a sip, enjoying the heat that trickled down my throat and pooled in my belly.
“Your usual?” Tony asked. I was just about to tell him I was fine with my Barolo when I realized he wasn’t talking to me. I glanced over at the man who’d just slid onto the stool next but one to me.
Fuck. My. Life.
It was Andrew.
“Thanks, Tony.”
“My pleasure, James. Good to see you again.”
I hadn’t been imagining it. Andrew was being called James. Maybe Tony got his name wrong and Andrew was too polite to correct him. I had to stop myself from laughing. Of course that wasn’t it. Andrew wasn’t polite.
But why was he here? And why was he still pretending he didn’t know me?
Tony put a drink in front of Andrew, who nodded in thanks. He turned to me, his glass in the air. “Cheers,” he said. His voice was deep and thick with a hint of grit that I felt between my legs. I hated that I found him so goddamn attractive.
On auto-pilot, I lifted my glass. “Brindisi.”
We both took a sip of our drinks. As I drank, I watched Andrew out of the corner of my eye. He didn’t seem to be laughing at me.
What was his deal?
He slid his glass back on the bar before turning to me once again. “I’m James.” He reached out his hand to shake mine.
I took it, a little stunned. “Sofia.”
He nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sofia. I hope you sorted it out with your boss.”
There was only one explanation—Andrew must have an identical twin. Two explanations—Andrew had intermittent amnesia. Was that even a thing?
Nope, that was the plotline of some ridiculously cute rom-com starring Reese Witherspoon. It was not my life. My life included flashing my boss and breaking the heel of my brand-new shoes. Nothing in my day-to-day was Hollywood-worthy. Except maybe Andrew’s face and ass.