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How can it be Bryce?
He’s dealing with a major business catastrophe on the other side of the country.
“Sofia, I saw your shadow. Please, open the door.” Although there’s a please in that sentence, it’s a command.
“Give me a sec,” I mumble. I stand up and unlock the door. It’s quite the ordeal. I’m a bit paranoid about security. Ciara thought I overdid it with the number of locks I have on the door, but they make me feel safer. The problem is it takes forever to open the damn door.
Finally, I open the darn thing.
I can’t believe he’s here in the flesh.
His tailored gray suit is impeccable. The same for his crisp white shirt. That pocket square makes him look very distinguished. He’s the consummate CEO. That said, his strained features, the red rims circling his blue irises, and the puffiness under his eyes are a contrast to his pristine exterior. He’s exhausted.
“Please, come in,” I say, stepping to the side.
Bryce enters my home.
He assesses the space with cool eyes.
Nope, this looks nothing like the hotel suite you stay at.
“Had I known you were going to drop—”
“I thought I was going to lose my goddamn mind.” He whirls around to face me. I jerk back, my back hitting the door. His blue eyes are burning with rage. “I tried to call you on the iPhone I gave you, and I still wasn’t able to get through to you.”
“I didn’t bring it with me.”
“What the fuck happened to your work phone?”
Not so fast, buddy.
“Before I answer your question, what are you doing here?” I ask. “I thought you were in Silicon Valley?” Wait. “How did you know I was back in New York?”
“Todd.”
“Huh?”
“The first time I asked about your whereabouts, he let it slip when you’d be back in New York. I don’t think it was intentional. He was in business mode. He thought I was trying to book you. He saw dollar signs, so he was willing to throw me a bone. Subsequent phone conversations weren’t as pleasant. Wild, all-consuming anger had my head exploding. I needed goddamn answers, so I chartered a plane for a redeye flight. If Todd wasn’t going to help me get in touch with you, I was going to do it myself.”
I lift a defiant chin. “I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”
He runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the tip. “I should’ve been in touch—”
“Yes, you should’ve.”
He sighs. “I was dealing with so much, days were flying by. I was in the middle of another soul-sucking meeting about the drama surrounding my CFO, when it hit me. I called Todd. No matter how many times I demanded he gives me your personal phone number, he refused. Instead, he reminded me I was no longer paying for your services, therefore––”
“Nothing happened between me and the client,” I blurt out.
He frowns. “Weren’t you away for two weeks?”
“I was.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t play me for a fool, Sofia.” he says. “I was across the country, dealing with a PR fiasco, and you needed to keep earning a living. A client had the means to have his way with you for two weeks. That’s a lot of money. I get it—”
“No, you don’t get it.” I’m fuming.
“Enlighten me”
