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“And she doesn’t need to,” Carson says, interrupting me. “I’m well aware of Jamila’s family. They don’t matter.”
“We both know they will.”
Carson’s jaw works. “You think you can protect Keely from that? Those girls are close. They’ll figure it out.”
“You know I can.” I approach his desk. “This isn’t some passing idea. I’ve thought it through. I want a piece of this business. I want to help them make it work. Call it… call it a personal project.”
Carson’s silent for a moment. He looks like he might explode at any moment. But finally, he cocks his head. “You like her, don’t you? Ever since our wedding.”
“Vow renewal,” I correct. “And yes. I do. But it isn’t all about that.”
Carson leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “If you hurt Keely, you will answer directly to me. Do you understand? I willnothave this blow back on Ash. My wife will be insulated from your bullshit. Do you hear me?”
I struggle to keep my temper. Carson used to be my closest friend—he used to be my brother.
Now all he cares about is that wife of his.
I like Ash. I really do. I don’t blame her for any of this. But sometimes, I wish Carson weren’t such an obsessed dickhead.
“Keely will be fine,” I say, turning away from him. “Now, is that all? Or do I have to wait to be dismissed?”
“Don’t be a prick, Nolan.”
“I’m going to say hello to Mother now.”
“Good. Come have dinner tomorrow tonight. Finn’s bringing the family.”
“Fine.” I glance back at him.
But he’s already flipping through some files.
Once, not too long ago, we would’ve shared a drink together, talked about our day.
Now, I’m a problem to be solved.
I shake my head and leave his office.
Chapter8
Keely
Icheck my phone twice to make sure I got the right place before shoving it back into my bag. I’m standing outside of an old red-brick Boston row home in the Back Bay neighborhood, about as bougie and expensive as it gets. I feel out of place, like any second someone’s going to descend from a nearby stoop and sneer as the police drag me back to where I belong.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself.
It took a lot of courage to ask Ash for Nolan’s home address. She wondered what I needed it for, and I told her a lie. I said it was a booty call.
Which is better than what I’m really doing here though I’m pretty sure I’ll never hear the end of her teasing.
I walk up the steps and knock on the door. It’s big and black with gold accents. Nolan doesn’t strike me as a black-door kind of guy—that feels too chic—he’s more of a wood-and-iron sort of man, something hard and austere, but still pricey. I knock again, starting to wilt under the pressure of waiting, and a piece of me hopes he’s not home.
But then I hear a lock unlatch and there he is, standing in a pair of gym shorts, no shirt, glistening with sweat like a freaking ancient sea god ascended from the bottom of the ocean, his eyes staring at mine with surprise and amusement.
All my words disappear.
Language fails me. I planned on tearing into him, but seeing his muscular chest, those tattoos, and all the memories they evoke—that night with him, the pleasure of his weight pinning me down, his lips on my throat, his cock between my legs, that incredible night of sin—my resolve floods away, leaving me weak.
“Hello, my something,” he says, stepping aside, a knowing smile on his lips like he expected me tonight. “I guess you’re here to talk.”
