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I hope for both of your sakes you’re lying.
Bentley:
Sorry. I’m busy today.
Me:
We had plans.
Bentley:
No, you had plans, Mr Miller. I have a prior engagement I can’t get out of. Have a great weekend. I’ll see you first thing Monday morning.
That’s it. She thinksthat’sgoing to stop me from hunting her down and dragging her back to my apartment like the goddamn caveman I am? The woman’s delusional if she thinks I’ll give up that easily.
Walking into my office, I open my laptop and log in to the firm’s servers. Finding her address in her HR file is child’s play. It’s highly inappropriate for me to use this information for personal reasons. Then again, so is everything else I do when it comes to Bentley.
So fuck it. I pick up my keys and hit the call button for the lift. Once I’m seated behind the steering wheel of my car, I’m even more determined that I’m doing the right thing. She wants this just as much as I do. I know she does. She just doesn’twantto want it. Which is fine. We’ll work on that.
Half an hour later, I’m pulling up out front of a suburban home. And for the first time since I left my apartment, I’m having doubts. Does she live with her mum? This doesn’t look like the kind of place a young woman would have on her own. It’s a large brick house, with well-maintained flower beds and a little garden that fills the manicured yard.
I grab my phone from the centre console, stare up at the house, and send Bentley a text.
Me:
I’m out front. You can either come out, or I’m coming up and ringing that doorbell.
It doesn’t take long before I see a curtain from an upstairs window pull back. I see Bentley’s silhouette staring at me from behind the glass.
Bentley:
Do not ring my doorbell. Give me five minutes.
Exactly three minutes later, a dishevelled and flushed-looking first-year associate is running out the front door of the house and down the gravel path.
“What on earth are you doing here?” Bentley asks as she climbs into the passenger seat of my car.
“Put your seat belt on,” I tell her.
She folds her arms over her chest. “No. What are you doing here? Did you not get the message that I’m busy?”
I reach over, grab the belt, pull it over her body, and clip it in. “Doing what?” I ask, starting the ignition of the car.
“Washing my hair,” she huffs out.
After pulling out onto the street, I look over at her and smirk. “I’ll wash it for you.”
“You are insufferable,” she says, despite her smile.
SEVEN
What the hell am I doing? Playing with fire, that’s what.
As Nathan leads me into his apartment, his palm resting on my lower back, I can’t help but think that by kissing my boss, I’m also kissing my whole career in corporate law goodbye.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I say aloud.
“Want a drink?” Nathan walks farther into the living room and over to what appears to be a minibar, blatantly ignoring my protests as he goes.
