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The look on his face is as if I slapped him. His eyes widen, startled, and then he starts to turn a dark, angry red.
Before he can open his mouth, Ben smoothly steps out of the room behind him.
“Is there anything else we can help you with today, Mr. Weaver?”
The words are even, but firm. Without having to say it, Benjamin Cowdery has made it clear that the conversation is over. It doesn’t feel like he’s saving my ass–more like he’s backing me up.
Collin Weaver snaps his mouth shut, glancing between us angrily.
“No,” he barks, turning toward the elevators.
Nick, still in the hallway, gives me a last long look before following. Vanessa slips out of the room and gives me an apologetic smile.
When I turn back to my boss, there’s a deep frown on his face. For a moment I’m concerned he’s going to take me off this account and let someone else tie up the loose ends.
Instead, he says, “I’m sorry. This is the last thing you need right now, Blair. Mr. Weaver is acting very unprofessionally. I won’t have that in my firm.”
I blink in surprise, not expecting the apology.
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I can handle it.”
And maybe it is. Or will be. I don’t know.
But now I’m relieved to know I’m not the only one willing to stand up to Collin Weaver.
Chapter 20
Nick
Icouldreallygofor some yams.
That’s what Blair had texted me a few hours ago when I checked in to see how she was feeling. I was surprised at her response and laughed aloud.
It’s been a few days since the incident at the firm and I thought it would be safe to text and make sure she was okay. Not just from having to deal with my father’s snide, privileged attitude, but in general.
Never in my life did I imagine I’d be standing on someone’s doorstep with a container of yams.
“Idiot,” I murmur to myself, knocking lightly on the door.
Blair opens it and stands there blinking blearily. She’s clearly just woken up from a nap, her hair mussed and eyes a little bleary, a confused look on her gorgeous face.
“Nick?”
“Hey. I brought…” I hold the bag up, showcasing the name of a local eatery that makes small-batch meals.
Tentatively, Blair takes the bag, looking from it back to me. There’s a pause and then she steps back. “That was really sweet of you. Come in.”
Her apartment looks comfortable and clean, and very lived in. As I follow her down the hall toward the kitchen I notice a small vase of flowers on the counter.
My stomach knots at the sight of the flowers. Did someone buy them for her? Another man? Is she dating anyone right now?
“You didn’t have to do this.” She gives me a weak smile and I’m distracted from the dagger of jealousy momentarily.
“I know. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”
A shadow crosses her eyes and she looks away. Should I ask what’s bothering her, or is that going too far? I’m so uncertain about how to handle my interactions with her.
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” She covers a small yawn and turns the coffeemaker on. I decline and can’t help smiling at her bedhead as she leans against the counter. “What?” she asks, returning my smile.
