AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, no,” I said, flushing an even deeper red. “Christ. Sorry. It’s Skylar.”
“Skylar Crosby?” he asked quickly.
I frowned at him. I wasn’t cold like Bostonians, but as a New Yorker, I had a deep suspicious streak. A stranger knowing my name definitely qualified as suspect.
“Yes…” I said, taking a few steps backward. “How did you know that?”
“I make it a point to know all of my employees’ names,” Sterling said with a brief, white smile. “Even the interns. Skylar’s a memorable one.”
Even though it was snowing outside, that was when I truly froze. The dots connected, and I suddenly realized who this was: Brandon Sterling, the elusive name partner at the firm he also founded. He was a legend in the office, but hadn’t been seen once by any interns. That in and of itself wasn’t unusual—we were disposable labor, so most of the partners were unlikely to take much interest. But even most of the junior associates who oversaw our work had never met him personally. He was a phantom.
“Oh, Jesus,” I breathed. “JesusChrist.”
“No, just me, I’m afraid,” Sterling replied with another bright smile. “Although it’s a nice comparison.”
“I’m so sorry, sir,” I spluttered. “Oh my God, oh God, I was intruding on your home, and I really shouldn’t have. A friend of a friend invited me to wait for a car inside because of the weather, but it was completely inappropriate. I only went upstairs to find cell reception, I swear, and then you walked in…”
Shut up, shut up, he already knows this, shut up!My inner dialogue went crazy trying to censor the blather again pouring out of my mouth. I was mortified to find Sterling trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.
“Ms. Crosby,” he interrupted gently with yet another knee-weakening smile. “Really. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m just…very sorry for intruding,” I said lamely. “And for babbling. It’s something I do when I’m…”
“When you’re what?”
“Um, nervous,” I admitted.
“You’ll have to fix that if you want to be a litigator,” he joked, causing me to turn bright red all over again. Fuck, could things get any worse? Although I wasn’t sure I wanted the job at Sterling Grove, it would have given me a springboard to any other I wanted. I could kiss that opportunity goodbye.
“It’s all right,” Sterling said yet again, patting me gently on the arm.
In the cold, his touch seared through the heavy wool of my jacket. He shivered, and for the first time, I realized he had chased me into the snow in just his suit and very expensive-looking leather shoes, which were already getting watermarks from the snow around the tips. I looked down at my feet. My Manolos were also as good as ruined.
“I’m going to head back inside,” he said, nodding toward his house. “Care to join me?”
“Oh no, sir, I’m really fine,” I said. “The T is just down this path, and it goes right back to Cambridge.”
Sterling glanced at his watch, which also looked very shiny and very expensive, but not flashy like that fool’s from the bar. Subtle. Tasteful.
“It’s almost one,” he said. “You probably already missed the last train, if you don’t get robbed in the park on your way there. Come on. My driver’s out of town, but I can call you a car while you wait.” When I hesitated, he reached out and squeezed my hand before letting it go, an intimate gesture that seemed to surprise him a bit too. “What kind of boss would I be if I made my interns stay until after midnight and didn’t give them a ride home?”
“Um…” For some reason, I couldn’t quite tell him that his office wasn’t the reason I was out so late.
“Let’s go,” he said again in a tone that brooked no argument and started to make his way back through the snow.
* * *
Someone (most likelyAna) had wised up to Sterling’s arrival. A large fire was alive when we reentered the house through the double-door entrance. There was no sign of his three companions. The house appeared to be empty but for him and me.
Sterling slipped off his shoes and carried them to the hearth while I loitered awkwardly in the foyer.
“Have a seat,” he said, nodding at one of the overstuffed couches I had been eyeing earlier. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
He disappeared upstairs while I sat down. When he returned, he carried a newspaper and a small box covered in scratches and paint splotches. He had removed his jacket, vest, and tie, and was decidedly more informal, with his white shirt unbuttoned at the throat and rolled up to his elbows. Though it was practically identical to the outfits of just about every other man I’d seen that night, there was something about the way the tendons in his forearms tested the limits of his rolled-up sleeves that made my mouth water, as if his casual regalia were trying to tame an animalism that was literally splitting seams to escape. Padding silently across the thick carpet, he reminded me of a lion tracking its prey.
“May I?” he asked, kneeling in front of me and taking the heel of my shoe in his hand.
Wordlessly, I watched as he slid my pumps off each foot, then carefully set my stockinged feet back onto the sheepskin. Our eyes caught as they had when I had first seen him. The moment quickly passed. He cleared his throat and stood.
