Page 4 of I Never Stopped Loving You

He stops in front of a door with a large silver plaque on the wall.

Andersons’ and Sons

Attorneys at Law

Fuck. My. Life.

“Oh, are you coming in here too?” he asks as he holds the door open for me. There’s that devilish smirk again.

I glance at the plaque once more, willing it to shift the words to some other law firm, a doctor's office, anything other than the place I need to be inside within the next five minutes.

“Well?” he asks as he gestures inside with the sweep of his hand.

“I suppose so. Thank you,” I say in my professional tone, the one that doesn’t give away my emotions.

“My pleasure, Miss…” he says as I glance up at him while walking through the door. His whole presence is throwing me off.

“Willow.”

“Is that a first or last name?” he asks quietly as I continue past him to the secretary, but I ignore him.

“Willow Bennett. Checking in for my interview at noon, please,” I tell the woman.

She looks up at me, smiling, but then her smile falters, and she quickly stands. She’s a little taller than I am, but it could be from heels. Her long, platinum blonde hair is in soft curls, and her makeup is perfect. Just barely any eyeliner, but even the subtle lines make her hazel eyes pop. She looks like a model.

“Sorry, Mr. Anderson. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s all right, Veronica. How are things going today?” he asks sweetly, and she seems to calm down instantly.

“Oh, they’ve been good, sir. Your father is already here in the third conference room. He’s waiting for…well, for you, Miss Bennett. If you would follow me…”

“That’s all right, Veronica. I’ll take Miss Bennett from here.”

“Yes, sir.”

She gives me one last smile before sitting back down at her desk to resume typing on her computer. The wave of anxiety that I was able to swallow down earlier is now rising back up into my throat.

“Mr....Anderson?” I ask, turning back to the man who’s definitely not a bodyguard standing extremely close behind me.

“Yep. Nice to finally meet you, Miss Bennett.”

He holds his hand out for me to shake, and I do. With each second he holds onto my hand, my stomach knots tighter. He doesn’t look like he’s irritated with me, only amused, and I can feel the blush heating my cheeks from embarrassment.

“Likewise, Mr. Anderson.”

He chuckles slightly at the way I say his name. After growing up in Texas with my grandparents before moving back to Michigan, I may have had a hard time phasing out my southern accent.

“Mr. Anderson’s my father, unless we’re in the courtroom. You can just call me Noah.”

“All right, Noah. Would you mind showing me where the conference room is?”

“It’ll be my pleasure, Willow.”

CHAPTER 3

NOAH

It’s her. I can’t fucking believe it. She’s here.