My Professor(89)
“You kept me up too late last night,” I argue, laying the blame at his feet.
His touch disappears, and reluctantly, I blink my eyes open.
He’s standing beside the bed, wearing a gray suit. He’s already showered. He looks debonair, a James Bond lookalike.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Since six,” he says. “I had a few calls I needed to take. Here, I ordered room service. Come eat while it’s still hot.”
I’m self-conscious of the fact that I’m wearing absolutely nothing. Jonathan realizes a beat after I do, nodding toward the cabinet under the TV.
“I had them bring your things up. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mind? I’m immensely grateful that I have something to put on.
He turns to walk over to the suite’s living room space, giving me a moment to scurry over and tug out a pair of panties. That’s the only privacy I get, though. He watches me now as I dig through my bag, looking for a bra. My skin flushes, but underneath that surface feeling of shyness, something comes alive at the fact that he can’t help but look at me. Even after last night, all those hours we spent together weren’t enough, apparently.
After I slip on a bra and some jeans, I peer over my shoulder at him, and he tries to conceal a private smile as he turns and reaches for the newspaper folded near our breakfast spread.
“What do you have planned for today?” I ask, trying to make my inquiry sound light.
“Aside from getting you home? Not much. I should put in a few hours at my desk later, but it’s nothing that can’t wait.”
“Getting me home?” I ask curiously.
“I booked a seat for you on my flight.”
He says it like it’s nothing, but I know damn well I’ll be sitting beside him in first class, sipping champagne and luxuriating in miles of extra legroom.
“I’ll cancel mine then.”
He nods as he flips through the newspaper sections until he lands on Business.
“We could do dinner?” I suggest. “If you don’t have to work, that is.”
He smiles but doesn’t look up. I think he’s trying to act like this isn’t a big deal, us starting to weave our lives together.
“Yes to dinner. And I’d like you to stay over,” he adds.
Inside, I’m so delighted I could squeal. “Okay. I’ll just need to grab a few things from my apartment.”
He finally looks up at me. “Don’t pack light. That way it’s easier. I have so little time during the week, and I’d rather not waste it having you go back and forth to your place.”
“All right.” I wink. “I’ll pack heavy.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
ONE MONTH LATER
Jonathan
* * *
Dammit, I’m late. The Saint John’s Alumni Scholarship Fundraiser is tonight in New York City. Emelia flew in a few days early so she could spend time catching up with Sonya. Meanwhile, I’ve had to keep myself chained to my desk in Boston, and even today, I missed my first flight because of a meeting that ran late. Though it wasn’t the original plan, I’ll meet Emelia at the fundraiser instead of accompanying her there.
The event is taking place in the ballroom of the Baccarat Hotel. Up in our suite on the 49th floor, I get ready quickly, using the mirror in the bathroom to assist me in tying my bowtie. Emelia’s makeup and hairbrush are strewn about the counter. A large black jewelry box is open and empty beside the sink. I smile, thinking of how surprised she must have been to find the necklace waiting for her in the room upon her arrival. Enjoy New York, my love, the accompanying note read.
My jeweler sourced the necklace for me while on the hunt for Emelia’s engagement ring. I want something antique and timeless, preferably a stone from Scotland, which will take a while to find, so I’ve already started the search. Emelia would think I was insane if she knew I was already preparing a proposal. Or perhaps not. We’ve talked about our life together, the future we want to share.
We’ve adapted to the newness of our relationship quickly.
Being together at the office, while awkward at first, has proved extremely convenient. We eat lunch together every day and ride to and from the Banks and Barclay building when my schedule allows. I never overstep my bounds with her in public, but on occasion, when I can’t help myself, I call her into my office and satisfy my urge to have her. I know how much she loves it because she’s not shy about letting me know. Still, it never seems to be enough. I need a constant reminder of her. A wedding ring on my finger will help that, I think.
The fundraiser began nearly an hour ago. The dinner portion will begin shortly, and I’ve left Emelia alone in a room full of wolves for long enough. I’m grateful she at least has Emmett and Alexander, though as of late, the former is far more reliable than the latter.
I finish with my tie and straighten my tuxedo jacket before heading out the door. The elevator ride takes longer than I’m accustomed to. The hotel is packed with Saint John’s alumni. In the lobby, I nod toward people I recognize and ignore invitations to chat as I make my way to the ballroom.
The lights are dim enough that it won’t be easy for me to spot Emelia in the ballroom right away, a fact that annoys me. I’m impatient. I have been all day. This is the longest we’ve been apart in weeks. Emelia has been by my side every day since we returned from Sonya’s wedding. If I have to visit the Belle Haven Estate, she accompanies me. If I have to put in extra time in the office, she often stays too, working or reading in my office. She’s slept at her apartment only once and phoned me before bed, regretting her decision.