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“Let’s go in and see what they are up to,” George says as his eyes pierce mine, watching my face as he opens the door. Immediately, I am hit with noise. Kids talking over the top of each other, and as George holds the door open for me to enter behind him, I already feel a headache coming on.
Looking around the classroom is different from what I expected. Colorful art covers the walls; a small sensory space is set up in one corner, and then a quiet reading nook filled with soft cushions and rugs in the other. There are desks, but not individual ones, rather one large one in the center of the room, where a group of kids currently sit together, some coloring and others using clay or Play-Doh or some such craft supply.
My eyes roam the room until I spot her. She’s sitting next to a young boy, and I think they are doing some type of dance or movement, but then I realize that they are signing. She has a big smile on her face and her long hair is up in a ponytail, some strands falling out around her face, and my fingers itch in my pockets to tuck it behind her ears. It looks lighter here in the bright afternoon sun, and even softer than I recall. My dick jerks in my pants as I remember her in my office earlier in the week. I was so close to claiming her lips with mine and it took all my willpower to stay professional around her.
“Good afternoon, class,” George says, loud enough for everyone to hear, as well as signing it, and all the small heads turn in our direction.
I look at Emily, the shock that I am here in her space evident by the look on her face. At least I got her back for the surprise of having her in my office. I would say we are now even.
“This is Mr. Rothschild. Please say good morning,” George continues, and the kids say good morning in a variety of different tones and grunts.
“Good morning,” I say to all of them, my hands still in my pants pockets, giving them a small nod. But they have no interest in me, their focus going back to the tasks they were doing before I arrived.
I watch as Emily signs something to the young boy and then stands, walking over to us. Her eyes question George, and I see him shrug in response. She stalks straight up to me and grabs my elbow, and as much as we are on opposite sides of this business deal, I do like her manhandling me as she guides me back toward the door. Her head barely reaches my shoulder, so I feel huge next to her, but I also have the desire to fling her over my shoulder and go caveman on her. Eddie was right, she isn’t my usual type. The girls I date are much taller. I have never been with a woman who is a little pocket rocket like Emily.
“What are you doing here?” she hisses, not happy to see me, and I smirk, liking that I can ruffle her feathers.
“I wanted to check out the school, to see the work you do here.” Her face softens a little, and I think I might've won her over. We have met on two occasions now and both times she has been a pain in my ass. Now, though, I feel that she may be starting to open up and let me in and, maybe, just maybe, give me a nugget of information I can use against them in order to get this school for my best client.
“Cut the bullshit, Ben. We both know you are here to case the place, look for clues or loopholes.”
And apparently, I was wrong. She is just as difficult today. She has a blatant distaste for me, that much is obvious. But I can’t help but be that much more intrigued by it. I hate it and love it in equal measures.
“Well, while I am here, why don’t you show me around?” I say through gritted teeth, trying to push aside how infuriatingly sexy I’m finding her to be.
She huffs out a breath like I have just asked her for a kidney and turns to survey her class.
“I will leave you two to it, then,” George says with a sly grin and nods to me before walking back out the door.
“Fine, come on.” She sighs, her eyes sparkling as she spins around, grabbing my hand and pulling me back into the classroom farther. Her hair flies out in my direction, and I shove my other hand into my pocket again so I don’t do something stupid like reach out and touch her.
“Class, Mr. Rothschild is going to be sitting with us for a while. He is really excited to meet you and get to know you some more.” After dropping my hand, her face is now lifted with a fake smile as the boy she was signing with earlier walks up beside me.
He pulls on my suit jacket to get my attention, and I look down at him. I am tall, so I must seem enormous to a little boy who can’t be any more than five or six years old.
When he signs something to me, I shake my head, feeling bad I can’t understand him. “Sorry, little buddy, I don’t know sign language.”
“He just asked how tall you were. He loves basketball and really wants to play in the NBA when he grows up,” Emily says as her face lights up when she looks at him.
“I’m six feet two inches.” His eyes flick to Emily, and she quickly moves her hands. He must understand because he looks at me, wide-eyed, and his smile takes over his face before he dances off back to the corner, where he was playing with Emily when I arrived.
“Gavin, let me help you with that,” I hear Emily say and look over to see her helping a bigger boy, this one perhaps closer to twelve or thirteen, but he is enormous for his age. Supporting most of his body weight with a walking stick, he walks to the back of the room, one leg not quite working as well as the other. She gets him settled at another workstation, and as she does, I notice a young girl sitting on her own, so I make my way over.
“Hi there, what are you reading?” I ask her as I squat down in front of her.
She answers without looking at me. “Cinderella. It is my favorite fairy tale.'' Her voice is cute, her blond locks moving a little as she speaks, shimmering in the sunlight.
“Cinderella is a great story,” I say as I look down at the book in her hand and sit stunned for a moment when I realize there are no words or pictures on the page, but rather little bumps of braille. She lifts her head, then and I see the most beautiful round face, with blue eyes that appear glassy and not focused on me or anything else.
“Rosie, Mr. Rothschild loves a good fairy tale. Why don’t you read him a page?” Emily suggests as she comes up behind me.
“Sure!” the little girl says in excitement, and I watch in amazement as she begins to tell me about the horrible stepmother and stepsisters, all the while her face tilts toward me as her tiny fingers run across the page in front of her.
My heart clenches in my chest as I take her in, completely happy to be reading to me. I grind my teeth and stand, taking a step back, remembering that I am a top city lawyer, here for one purpose and one purpose only—to make money. And the only way to make more of it is to get this deal done for our best client and not become distracted by cute little children or sexy teachers.
No matter how good the latter one looks in those jeans.
CHAPTER SEVEN - EMILY
