Jesus Christ, what do I say here? I need to approach this delicately, ease my way back into her life. This is not the time to stir up old wounds, not when she’s still mentally fragile.
I force my features into a mask of composure. “That’s right. I was there.”
Her brows bunch together, carving little lines into her forehead. “Can you tell me what happened? I’m trying to piece it all together.”
I search for the right words, for a version of the story that won’t leave her completely dumbfounded and unhinged. “We were having a conversation, and then you turned to leave. Unfortunately, those high heels betrayed you, and you took a tumble on the stairs.”
I watch her face for any spark of remembrance of our heated exchange but it’s blank.
“Typical me. A disaster in heels. I should come with a health and safety warning, like Dwayne suggested.” Her self-deprecating chuckle only ratchets up my guilt.
“No need for embarrassment,” I counter, a little too swiftly. “You gave us a hell of a scare though. You were unconscious in the ambulance.”
I fight to keep my voice level. “It was hours before you woke up at the hospital.”
She gapes at me. “Youstayedwith me? At the hospital?”
Stayed with her? I practically haunted those hospital hallways, waiting anxiously for any sign that she’d wake up. “Yes, I did.”
She recoils, a soft “oh” slipping past her lips. “That’s really decent of you.”
If only she knew the half of it, the full story of that night. She wouldn’t be singing my praises, that’s for sure.
I give a dry, humorless laugh. “Contrary to the rumors, Lucy, I’m not quite the monster they make me out to be. Did you honestly think I’d just leave you concussed at the bottom of the stairs?”
“Yeah, but I know some managers who would have passed that on to HR,” she quips, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’m sorry if I ruined your night.”
“I do a perfectly fine job of ruining things on my own,” I say tightly. My night, and everything that matters.
Her eyes soften, curiosity replacing the confusion. “What were we talking about… before I took a nosedive?”
My pulse spikes.
“Nothing important.” I’ve got a poker face that could bluff the devil himself; it’s one of the reasons I’m a fantastic gambler. But using it on her leaves a bad taste. “And for the record, if you’ve been hearing the ludicrous office chatter, I didn’t give you a shove.”
She chuckles lightly. “I wouldn’t be in this room if I believed a word of that.”
“Good to know you don’t believe everything you hear about me.”
“It’s all good, of course.”
“Of course,” I echo, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I lock eyes with her. “So, tell me, Lucy, whatdoyou believe about me?”
Her reaction is priceless. A visible gulp, her eyes wide as saucers. “Aboutyou?”
“That’s right.”
“Like, what do I know about you?” She takes a moment, letting out a slow breath. “Well, you’re the co-founder of our company, obviously. And you’re the sponsor for Project Tangra.”
The basics. The public knowledge.
“Anything more?” I prod, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of my mouth.
“And you started the hotel group years ago after meeting Killian Quinn. You guys started your first hotel at the time in Queens…” She pauses, looking at me as if trying to gauge if she’s passed some sort of test. “You’re a, ah, very successful businessman and… eh, a great role model. I’m not sure this is what you’re after, Mr. Wolfe?”
“I’m not asking for my biography. I want to know what you—Lucy—personally know about me.”
She squirms in her seat, swallowing audibly. “I know we’ve had a few, eh, interactions before, but I hope we can start on a clean slate. I’ll work on my professional filter.”
