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There seems to be more he wants to say, and I wait patiently for him to speak. “I wanted to thank you-”
“I should be thanking you,” I say, cutting him off.
“For standing up for me, for cornering my father so he couldn't retaliate, for everything,” he says.
I worry he doesn't understand what I mean. “You wouldn't have done any of that if not for me, for my messy situation with Sterling.” The whole problem started with me and nearly ended with Clifton in trouble.
I can still see security escorting him out, their stern faces and harsh garb a contrast to the polished marble of the lobby.
“You have no idea how much it means to me that Anton had to publicly thank me.” He chuckles, the sound rich and dark like my favorite coffee. This man has woven himself into the fabric of my life, and now that I’m secretly falling for him, I’m trying not to let my feelings unravel everything.
His gaze lingers on me, concern etching lines into his forehead. “Are you okay?” He seems almost afraid to ask, likely worried he’ll upset me more if I am, indeed, upset.
I nod, unable to give voice to my concerns.
He inhales as if to say something else, but he hesitates. His eyebrows stitch together as he speaks, giving me the impression he changed his mind about what he was going to say right before speaking. “Emma, do you need a ride home?” He says the words in a low conspiratorial tone, his words a soft thread in the chaos of my thoughts.
Anton appears at our side and I realize the meeting has dissipated, with people fracturing off and making their way to their respective spaces or toward the elevator to leave. There’s something so sharp and knowing in Anton’s eyes. The man built an empire, but he can topple those he wishes to pass the torch to. I can’t help but wonder if he has some inkling of my feelings for Clifton. Feelings I think Clifton reciprocates.
“Clifton can take you home,” Anton says, his tone deceptively gentle. “Or I can arrange for security to accompany you. Whatever makes you feel safe.”
Those words are loaded, but after my past with a man who knew how to twist everything to hurt me, I know how to talk to disarm those kinds of statements.
“Thank you both,” I say, my voice a fragile whisper. Glancing at Clifton, I continue. “But I think I live somewhere between here and your penthouse.”
I know he sees my attempt to thwart Anton’s plan - whatever it may be - and a slight smile toys with the corners of his lips. I think he secretly loves that we’re plotting against his father, even without planning to do so.
I wish I could find a way to feel truly safe. I have a feeling that Sterling isn’t going to take this defeat without some kind of fight. But he won’t fight Clifton, who could beat him, he’d likely bring his fists to my place just so he could win.
I glance at Clifton, worried he can read my thoughts in my eyes and notice the determination settling into his features. My attention shifts to Anton, who is looking from me to his son, obviously suspecting something. I can’t imagine he’d be okay with Clifton and me finding any kind of joy in one another.
“It’s no problem at all,” Clifton says, his voice soothing the raw edges of my nerves. “Let’s get you home.”
With that, he takes my arm and leads me to the elevator. Once inside the metal box, I relax enough to take a deep breath. I know we’re not in the clear yet, but we’re getting closer every moment that goes by. I’m sure Anton suspects something, and we have to be careful around the cameras inside and outside the firm.
When we step out into the night, my ears catch the steady hum of the city’s pulse. Cars, dogs barking, horns honking, and tires squealing. Clifton leads me to his car and I get in.
The cool, dark leather seats cradle my body and as he turns over the engine, I steal a glance at him. My gaze traces the strong line of his jaw, and I notice the way his hands grip the steering wheel. Something about the small details draws me in and leaves me feeling warm, safe, and comfortable.
I’m not the kind of person to get in anyone's vehicle unless I really trust them. But I have no fear with Clifton.
“You seem quiet,” he says, glancing over at me.
I lift both shoulders. “Just processing today.” The day had gone kind of sideways, and I feel off-kilter and crazy, like I’m stuck in a carnival ride with no way off.
Most of the drive passes in silence, and when he pulls up in front of my place, I see a light on in my bedroom. A room I never leave the light on. I keep my kitchen, dining room, and living space lights on for nights I come home after dark, but never my bedroom.
Panic twists up my insides and I make an audible squeak of fear. Clifton glances at my apartment, his jaw clenching. “Does Sterling have a key?” His low, protective voice soothes the rising terror in me.
I shake my head. “No,” My breath catches in my throat. “But he knows where I keep the spare in case.”
Clifton steps out of his car, making his way to my side. He pulls me to my feet, his attention on my windows as if he’ll spot someone where the light casts shadows. We make our way to my floor, then stop before my door. I check for the spare key, but it’s gone, which only leaves me more concerned.
“You can stay at my place if you need,” he offers, but I need to know if Sterling is in my home.
I unlock the door and push inside, loving how my apartment blooms with life. The scent of flowers tickles my nose and I inhale, feeling so very at home. Their sweet fragrance clashes with Clifton’s very male cologne as he stands before me like a shield, but I like the mix.
We walk inside and I notice Clifton scanning the bouquets of fresh flowers scattered around the place. I find so much joy in the beauty and scent of flowers, their blooms bring me hope for better, for joy.
