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“Sure, we can set something up,” Ben replies dryly, and I feel like I am turning blue, with not enough oxygen getting to my lungs.
“Great, speak soon.” I peek through a small crack in the desk and see Jeremy enter the elevator, the doors closing on his frame.
Finally exhaling, I crawl out from under the desk, trying to settle my already shot nerves. Ben extends his hand to me, and I grab on to it like a life raft as I get to my feet. As I stand up, my eyes flick to the elevator one more time before I push my shoulders back.
“Thank you,” I state like nothing just happened, fixing my dress and pushing my hair out of my face.
I look up at him and can’t help but notice he still has hold of my hand and I am still trembling.
“You want to tell me what’s going on there?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the P in reply and taking a big gulp of air.
The last thing I want to admit is that I hide from my ex. It’s been a while since I saw him last, and I would like to keep it that way.
Ben turns sharply and begins to stalk down the hallway, further startling me from my thoughts. He hasn’t let go of my hand, so he is dragging me behind him, and I have to run in my heels to keep up with his large strides.
“Hold my calls, Sandra,” he tells the woman who showed me to the conference room earlier, her eyes widening as we walk into what I assume is his office, and then he’s closing the doors behind us.
His office is huge, bigger than my whole apartment. A large timber oak desk sits front and center, with two black leather armchairs in front of it. A sofa and another armchair are off against one wall, the thick carpet between them creating a sitting area the size of most people’s living rooms. There even appears to be a private bathroom through another door to the left, which boggles my mind. Everything about this office screams money, including the amazing view of the city through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows. It makes me want to vomit.
“Start talking,” he says as he leans against his desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest, demanding answers that I don’t want to give.
I stopped answering the demands of men years ago, and I don’t plan on sharing my personal life with my opposing lawyer today. My lips remain tight, and my eyes don’t waver from his as I stay silent.
He stands up from this desk and walks over to me slowly, stopping right in front of me. Looking up at him, his eyes are intense, like he is trying to read me. Now my body is shaking for an entirely different reason as I feel his chest so close to mine.
“You are shaking. Are you okay?” His tone is soft as his eyes drill mine with palpable concern, and the armor around my heart cracks a little. This is new. A rich man in a suit, probably worth more than most people in the country, and from the Rothschild family to boot, and he is asking after my welfare.
I take another big breath and sigh. “I’m fine.” Plastering on a fake smile, I step back from him before I do something stupid like fall into him and never let go. It has been a long time since I was in the arms of a man, and I have a weird feeling Benjamin Rothschild’s arms would keep me safe from a myriad of things.
He nods, clearly not believing me, as he continues watching me. His hands firmly in his pockets, an undercurrent of sexual tension sparks around the room.
“Ten million is a lot of money…” he says, assessing me.
I laugh then. God, I am such an idiot. I shake my head at my stupidity. Of course he didn’t drag me in here because any part of him cares. He is just like every other suit; he wanted to prod me some more, and get this deal done for his client. I am such a fool, and I should have known better.
“I need to go. Have a nice afternoon, Mr. Rothschild,” I say formally, super gluing the crack that appeared in my shield mere moments ago. He begins to speak and takes a step toward me, but I spin on my heel, open his office door, and stride out.
Leaving him and his demands behind.
CHAPTER SIX - BENJAMIN
She is fucking stunning, and just like the other night at the bar, my eyes are again glued to her ass. It’s looking like a ripe peach for the picking in that figure-hugging black dress, and I’d love nothing more than to take a bite. She looks entirely different than she did on Friday night, not at all like Mrs. Doubtfire I’ve dubbed her as, and instead like a sexy Jessica Rabbit with curves in all the right places.
But the way she acted just now has me wondering what is going on beneath the surface. Clearly, she didn’t want to see Jeremy Lucas. To be fair, I don’t much like to see him either. He’s a greedy asshole of a man and someone I didn’t think I would ever have to deal with in my office. There was no denying she was shaking, and I saw a little vulnerability in her face. Her tough exterior fell momentarily, and I didn’t like it. After witnessing her shine dulled slightly, I have a feeling this woman was only ever meant to sparkle.
Sandra appears at my open door, pulling me from my thoughts. “Michael is free and waiting for you down in his office.” I nod to her and straighten my tie, needing to adjust myself after having my hands on her again. After I got home from the bar on Friday, I am not ashamed to admit that I relieved the tension by visualizing her naked body underneath mine. Emily Carr. At least I know her name now.
I walk down the hallway toward Michael’s office, still frustrated by what happened this morning. It was meant to be an easy one. The elementary school is so run-down that anyone in their right mind would be a fool to reject an offer of five million. But to also reject ten million, that was pure crazy. Michael is one of my best lawyers and only wanted me in the room because he knew Beasley would go off the rails if he didn’t get his way. With both of us there, he was thinking we may be able to keep him in check, but it appears we were wrong. Jonathan Beasley is a slimy asshole, but a rich one. And he has us on a healthy retainer, so regardless of his character, it’s one I wish to keep.
Michael’s door is open, so I walk through and close it behind me as he looks up from his paperwork on his desk.
“What the fuck was that?” he says, and I shake my head, not the only one who found this morning's meeting totally unexpected.
“Who was she? Do you know her?” he asks me as I begin to pace his office.
“I met her Friday night at the bar. Had no idea she was a lawyer,” I answer him, my mind running into overdrive.
