Grady looked over with raised brows, and I winced. “Oh right. Your bagel.”
I retrieved the slightly smooshed to-go bag from my purse, and he took it with a smile.
“Passengers usually sit in the back,” he said lightly.
“Yeah, I already did that dance with Mac. It’s too awkward for me.” I pulled a face before realizing he might’ve been trying to politely correct me on a faux pas. “Unless you don’t want company?”
“No, no. I don’t mind at all,” he said, starting up the car.
“Good.” I took a deep, steadying breath, and drummed my fingers against my thighs. “Let’s roll, then.”
His grin was annoyingly wide as he pulled away from the curb.
the nightingale
. . .
Ellie
Ellie’s Guide toProfessional CuddlingBeing a Fake FiancéeNOT Falling for Your Fake FiancéHiding Any Trace that You’ve Fallen for Your Fake FiancéKeeping It TogetherSurviving as a Fake FiancéeReaping the Benefits of a Fake EngagementLife After Having a Fake FiancéFinding Your Unicorn,Tip #36: Always return to the scene of thecrimeinitial misunderstanding.
This was a bad idea.
Averybad idea.
Not only was my heart threatening to explode out of my chest, but I’d begun sweating profusely during the drive to Cade’s building. I was too embarrassed to ask Grady to blast the air-conditioning, so I’d taken to subtly holding my arms out to get more airflow to the problem areas.
Traffic was surprisingly sparse, and we arrived way before I was ready.
Mac appeared right outside my door, yanking it open so fast I jumped in my seat.
“Why are you out here?” I asked, fumbling with my buckle until it clicked free.
“Because my boss has lost his damn mind,” Mac grumbled. With a sigh, he turned on his heel and walked off. “Follow me. And hurry up.”
My jaw dropped at his short tone, but I mumbled a quick thank you to Grady before scrambling to catch up with Mac.
I followed him up the stairs like a loyal puppy to where Hughes stood guard at the door.
Ah. My old nemesis.
Mac let me pass him, and I raised my chin as we approached, keeping my expression neutral. “We meet again.”
Instead of refusing me entry this time, Hughes pulled the door open with a flourish and a surprisingly warm smile. “Welcome back to the Nightingale, Miss Darling. Mr. Westbrook is waiting for you in the penthouse.”
I faltered a step, lips parting in shock. “You’re really letting me inside? Just like that?”
“Of course.” A playful spark caught in his eyes. “You’ve been added to Mr. Westbrook’s account.”
I frowned. “You mean his visitor list.”
“I do not,” he said, mouth twitching. He leaned closer—as if letting me in on a secret. “The account is a far bigger deal.”
I swallowed and glanced at Mac, who rolled his eyes, before squinting at Hughes. “Well, you’re still my nemesis. I crocheted a doll in your likeness, and I’m not afraid to stick it with a few pins.”
He dipped his head and touched the brim of his cap. “I’m honored.”
My frown deepened, and I shifted my weight to my other leg. “This won’t be much of a rivalry if you’re nice to me now.”
