Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“You’re worried,” Ethan observes, snapping me out of my reverie, and sliding his food away.
I do the same of mine, as my eyes were far more ambitious than my belly. “Yes,” I concede. “I’m worried about my father, but I respect that you can’t tell me the details.” The memory of that look in my father’s eyes twists me in knots, and I know he has to come first. “I just—maybe I’ll just make this easy on you and me. I’ll go home and help him. I’ll put Zoey on hold. Then you don’t have to feel like you’re breaking your no mixing of business and pleasure rule.”
“Do you think that’s what he would want you to do?”
“No, of course not, but I have to put him first. He lost my mother. He can’t lose his business, too. We only have each other.”
“I’m going to be brutally honest, Sofia,” he says, his attention hyper-focused on me.
“I’d expect nothing less.”
“Your father needing you is an excuse. You're scared of failure, and maybe even whatever this is between us. If you allow fear to win and you walk away, if you leave what might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity behind, he won’t be to blame. And neither will I. You will. And you’ll have to live with that. You opened this door in your life because you wanted this. Your talent and bravery in how you chose to pitch won my respect, and I knew I’d be a fool to lose the Zoey brand.” He slides the untouched envelope in front of me. “You make this happen, you’ll be able to support him any way you see fit. Read it.”
My heart is in my throat now, my ego wounded. I ignore the envelope, “I’m not afraid of failure.”
“Then why aren’t you opening the envelope?” he challenges.
My lips press together, and I open my mouth to offer a logical answer that I simply don’t have.
I open the envelope, or I try. I can’t stop my hands from shaking in the process. Ethan catches them with his big warm hands. And his eyes that are even warmer now, meet mine. “There’s nothing bad that comes from this, Sofia. Stop getting in your own head.”
It’s him who is in my head.
Isn’t it?
Or am I really afraid?
Maybe. A little.
Or—a lot.
He releases me, and I remove the contract from the envelope with assertiveness this time. I start reading, and the minute I get to the very large down payment for my services, I set it down. It’s too good to be true, and it only exists because I slept with this man. “No,” I say. “I am not some kind of kept woman.”
When I start to move away, he catches my legs under the table, the intimacy of the act shocking in every possible way. My body reacts to his touch, to memories of our naked bodies in that hotel room, while my mind registers shock one moment, and his cutting anger the next.
“You think I have to pay you to be with you? Is that what you think of yourself and me? You’re not good enough? I’m not good enough?”
My lips part in a new wave of shock. “I—no. No, that is not what I think.”
“Then why are you leaving this table with that accusation between us?”
My heart feels as if it might beat out of my chest. “I’m confused.”
“I’m not. I have real interest in the Zoey brand, but I also have interest in you, Sofia. But one does not impact the other.”
“Do you really think that’s even possible?”
“The board offered you a mentorship, not me, and with someone other than me, an expert in your field, which I am not, nor do I pretend to be otherwise. The board will follow her recommendation, and that includes me. No matter what happens between us, I don’t control your future. I made sure of it.”
I’m taken aback by this news. “You did?”
“Yes. I did. You don’t need me anymore. And frankly, I like that you don’t need me anymore.” He releases me. “I’m going to leave you to read the contract and think about it on your own. Because you have a big decision to make, and all I’m thinking about right now is what we started and never finished.” He reaches over the table and picks up my cellphone. “I’m putting my number in your phone. Call me in the morning with your decision.” Then, to my stunned disbelief, he stands up and walks away.
My heart thunders in my chest, and the one thing I know right now for certain is that I don’t want him to leave.
I snatch up the envelope and slide out of the booth in pursuit, but a large group of people are in my path, delaying my steps. I have his phone number, I tell myself. If he gets away, I’ll call him, but I manage to dart around the group and exit the restaurant, not even sure what elevator to choose to locate him. I decide to choose my tower and dash that direction. When I reach the bank of cars, one door is open, and I hurry and step in front of it.