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I clenched my jaw to curtail the distaste on my tongue. Admitting a woman was disrupting my schedule was a bitter pill to swallow. But I did.
“The latter.”
If she looked surprised, it didn't show. She also didn't say it.
“And this woman is always in close proximity?”
I nodded. She breathed.
“You said the risk could cost you a valuable friendship. Is she a friend?”
“Worse.”
“Who is she?”
“Sophie’s nanny, my secretary, and my best friend’s daughter.”
She paused. I held my breath when I saw the look in her eyes. She found it complicated.
“How long have you known this friend?”
“Twenty-four years.”
She swallowed.
“It makes sense now. Thank you, Mr. Thorne, for clarifying that.”
I nodded. So what now?
“Have you felt this way for another woman after your late wife?”
“No.”
“What do you think makes her different?”
I was caught unaware by the question. I’d never thought about that. Her curves were her primary attraction, nothing more.
“Her body.” I cleared my throat.
She stared at me for a while. “Just that?”
I nodded.
“So, what exactly is the problem here, Mr. Thorne.”
I frowned. Everything I’d said was the problem.
“You don't want to indulge because when you do, you stand the risk of losing valuable friendship. Or… you fear you might get too attached.”
My heart skipped a bit. That wasn’t—
“I want you to tell me precisely what you feel in this moment about the friendship.”
“Guilt… betrayal.”
“Anything else?” she urged.
“No.”
