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Damon always parks in the garage and waits in an office I’ve set up for him while I work. It’s a demanding job to be on my beck and call, but I don’t drive—not anymore. Damon’s office has every gaming system that Piper could find and a small library to keep him occupied. I pretend not to notice that he lets the interns flock there to unwind.
The lobby is bustling. Sometimes, this reminds me of the good work we do here. I help people. I also make a lot of money for other people. That’s the balancing act I did manage to figure out. Sure, I’d like to spend more time doing the pro bono labor work that our benefit corp works on, but someone has to keep the lights on.
Damon’s office is right off the garage stair entrance. I go to hang a left when a swipe of bright red stops me in my tracks.
For a moment, everything stops. My mind splutters to a halt.
Laura, in the lobby of my legal firm.
Did I conjure her? Did she ask Damon to bring her here? Did last night mean as much to her as it did to me?
What is she doing here? She can’t be here—she just can’t. A flare of irritation, at myself and at her. Last night meant something, but this is… well, this is stalking.
She looks gorgeous. It’s a completely different type of gorgeous than the way she looked when we met, and even different from how she looked this morning.
Last night, with her dark makeup and tight dress, she had been breathtaking in a way that made me feel like I might die, my heart exploding just from glimpsing her. This morning, she had looked like a kitten, all wide eyes and fluffy hair. She’d been beautiful, but young—too young—and it had made me feel a little ill to see someone so pretty and frazzled in my sheets.
Now, though, she looks… well, she looks beautiful.
Her hair looks redder than it did earlier, with the sun streaming in. It’s caught in a tight coil, the braid thick over her shoulder. Her face is clear of the makeup, and I can see the freckles that I missed when we last saw each other. They coat her face, actually, and she must have been in thicker makeup than I realized to hide them all. The suit she’s wearing is a bit ill-fitting, just a bit too wide and boxy for what I know is her frame, but it’s decidedly professional.
And that’s when my brain comes back on.
Panic fills me. Why would Laura be here? She had seemed ready to flee from the house when she woke up this morning. I can’t have anyone know about our time together. Beyond it being terribly unprofessional, it’s… well, it’s embarrassing. She’syoung and she’s pretty, and I’m supposed to be someone of moral integrity.
My feet move forward without my brain telling them to. I walk up behind her, and she doesn’t seem to notice. Good. It gives me an extra second to gather my thoughts.
I school my expression.
“—your I.D.?” Mary, one of our receptionists, asks.
Laura’s cheeks are turning pink. It sends a flash of something through me, bright like heat, hot like embarrassment.
“It’s okay, Mary, she’s with me,” I say quickly.
Laura’s head snaps up. I can see the moment she recognizes me. That pretty pink on her cheeks fades, and she becomes as pale as a sheet of paper.
Mary says something, but I can’t hear her. Instead, I nod my head at Laura and turn on my heel. I lead her to the elevator, my pulse racing.
I should say something. I should definitely, certainly say something.
I have nothing to say.
The elevator arrives, and we step inside. We’re alone. I can’t tell if that’s better or worse.
I clear my throat. Laura’s bright eyes are focused on me, and the horror in them is obvious.
“Um,” she says. That’s all. Just ‘um’.
“What are you doing here?” My voice sounds harsh. I know it does. I know I should soften it somehow, be nicer—god, she really is young, isn’t she? What did she say? Twenty-five? Half my age, give or take a few months.
“I…” she trails off.
“Did you follow me?” I demand. The elevator climbs, and I’m so grateful no one has gotten on.
“I left first. Inyourcar.” She sounds offended. I want to care, but any minute now, that elevator is going to stop at my floor.
“Then—”
