Trillion(22)

And we’d make the most beautiful babies—not that I’ve ever had to think about this sort of thing.

“You know, since you signed that NDA, everything discussed between us is strictly confidential,” I say. “You can tell me anything.”

“Trey …” Her lips part but she hesitates. “I realize I was cordial with you Friday night, but I think I might have given you the wrong impression.” She gathers a breath. “We’re not friends. I’m not going to tell you why I had a bad day. And I’m not going to change my mind about what you asked for just because you’re trying to forge some kind of connection. Also, I need to be honest with you—the fact that you randomly dug up my file and decided I’m the one for you, is—”

“—that day you defended me,” I don’t let her finish because I know where she’s going, “how did you know those things?”

“You hear things, you read things …”

“So you’ve checked into me.”

“I did my research before I applied to your company,” she says.

“So you and I are the same. We see something we want and we do our research before going after it.”

“That’s not the same. At all.”

“It’s exactly the same.”

Sophie rises, gathering the papers and napkins left over from her half-finished lunch. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got reports to run.”

“Actually I do mind. I wasn’t finished with our conversation.”

She eyes the clock.

“Your reports can wait,” I add. “Why don’t you take the afternoon and I’ll do the same. I want to show you something.”

I’ve got three meetings scheduled this afternoon, but I won’t hesitate to reschedule them in exchange for some one-on-one time with her.

“I don’t want to get in trouble with my supervisor …”

“Weak excuse.” I huff. “Who’s your supervisor?”

“Barb Scottsman.”

“If Barb so much as thinks of reprimanding you, she’ll find herself in the unemployment line first thing tomorrow.”

“That’s cold.” She huffs as if disgusted. “Is that really how you operate? Like a tyrant child?”

“Like a ruthless businessman.” The crestfallen expression on her face tells me I’m not doing myself any favors, so I add a more flattering, “I’m nothing if not persistent.”

“Noted.”

“Give me the afternoon, Sophie. Spend a few hours with me. If you still don’t see me in a new light, just say so. I’ll never bother you again. We’ll be passing ships in the night, like before.” It’s a risky offer, but I’m confident.

She’s quiet. Contemplative, perhaps.

“Your time is valuable, Trey. Maybe even invaluable. I’d hate for you to waste it on me.”

“I’d hardly call an afternoon with you a waste. Besides, I’ll take my chances.”

Her ocean eyes light, but her expression remains unreadable. I’ve flattered her. I’m positive.

“Where would you take me?” she asks, slow and careful.

“Meet me in thirty minutes outside the west parking garage,” I say. “And you’ll find out.”





Fifteen





Sophie



Past



“What do you want, Soph?” Nolan pulls me into his arms, our naked bodies wrapped in silky sheets. My body reels, electric from head to toe, still pulsing from not one but two massive orgasms he gifted me with tonight.

We’ve been doing this every weekend for the past month—coming to this hotel, locking ourselves away in this very room, making love like the world is ending.

“I don’t know. I was thinking maybe the roasted chicken?” I exhale, staring at the ceiling. “I’d have to look at the room service menu.”

He laughs. “No, I mean, what do you want out of life?”

I’m taken aback, silent. He’s never asked me such a meta question before. And it’s not a question I’ve given much consideration to. With Emmeline’s needs and Mom being sick off and on the last five years, I figured maybe I’d attend a local community college part-time, maybe transition to nursing school—though blood has always made me queasy if I’m being honest. I’m good at math, but what would I do with a math degree? I don’t want to teach. High school isn’t the kind of thing I’d want to repeat in any capacity.

“If you could do anything, be anything …” he continues, “what would that look like?”

Married to him? I laugh to myself. It’s silly to think that far ahead when we’ve only been together such a short time, but a girl can daydream.

I nuzzle against the inside of his arm, roll to my side, and place a palm over his smooth, bare chest. “I just want to be happy.”

His mouth tugs up at the corner. “Can you be more specific?”

I shrug. “I don’t want to have to worry about anything. Like my mom getting sick again. Or who’ll take care of my sister if something happens to one of us.”

“Your sister has muscular dystrophy, yes?”