Page 137 of His Good Girl

My stomach tightened.

Before I could decide whether that hurt, his next message appeared.

Callum Rowe:It will also be us. We’ll discuss it properly.

I exhaled.

Jules watched my face and smiled softly. “There. See?”

“He said work first.”

“Good.”

“And us.”

“Also good.”

“And discuss it properly.”

“That’s deeply arousing in a man with a legal department.”

I laughed and tossed a pillow at her.

But after she left and I locked the door and stood alone in my quiet apartment, the nerves came back. Somehow, knowing that work would be work tomorrow andalsoabout us was morefrightening than if he had simply sent something crude. Crude I could handle. Crude did not ask me to be an adult about it.

I slept badly that night.

By Monday morning, I had changed twice, packed my tote three times, and applied lipstick with an unsteady hand. I wore a charcoal dress with long sleeves and a narrow belt, professional enough for Dana and fitted enough that Jules, if present, would have said the neckline had ‘plausible deniability and a pension plan.’ I wore underwear because I had not been instructed otherwise and because part of me needed to prove I could make at least one independent decision before breakfast.

Benjamin was waiting for me once I reached the forty-seventh floor. He looked me over once I stepped out of the elevator.

“Ms. Hale,” he greeted. “You appear rested enough to be legally employable.”

“Good morning, Ben.”

“Debatable.”

“Is he in?”

“He is.” Benjamin’s eyes flicked toward Callum’s closed doors. “He asked to see you when you arrived.”

My stomach dropped and sparked at the same time. “Now?”

“That is the usual meaning of when you arrived, yes.”

“Is this a work thing?”

Benjamin looked at me for one long second. Then he said, “I find that question adorable.”

“Ben.”

His face softened just a touch. “He had a difficult weekend.”

“I know.”

“No,” he said. “You know he was busy. That is not the same thing.”

A cold thread moved through me. “Is Hartwell worse?”