Her father, that was who. So, what did that make her?
Portia pulled up the message. If it was really bad, maybe she’d pretend she hadn’t received it and go back to sleep.
Need to see you.
Aleks’s message sent her heart fluttering like a schoolgirl with a crush. Portia tamped that feeling down immediately. He’d chosen work over her.
Was this how Tommy had felt all those years? Her heart broke for him. All those times she’d put the company first. He must have really loved her to have stayed.
Steeling her spine, she set aside the grieving widow and stepped into the CEO role. No one, especially not the man working for the enemy, could demand her presence like that. No matter how much she enjoyed his company.
Why?
His response was immediate.Meet me for breakfast?
Looking at the time, she ignored that stupid little flutter again. It wasn’t even seven yet. Ugh.
She’d planned to catch up on work. And, as much as she didn’t want to, she needed to prepare for the meeting with the Solveig Consortium. She needed to be armed with as much information as she could be.
So really, spending time with Aleks could count as gathering intel against the Solveig Consortium, right?
I can fit you in. Where do you want to meet?
No response popped up. The sinking sensation in her stomach wasnotdisappointment. She had plenty to do today. Plus, she wasn’t a big fan of breakfast anyway.
She dropped her phone on the bedside table. It trilled with another message and practically bounced back into her hand.
Outside your place, 10 minutes?
Ten minutes? This obviously wasn’t a date, so she wouldn’t put date-level effort into it.
OK
She sprang out of bed and into her closet. So many clothes, but none of them projected the this-isn’t-a-date-I-woke-up-this-way-vibe that she wanted. Except...
The slim-fit jeans were a few years old, but the trouser cut was classic and the denim was butter soft and expensive. The fact that they made her ass look amazing was a bonus.
She paired them with a black tailored shirt in high-tech fabric that breathed like linen but never wrinkled. Something else to thank the space program for.
A brown leather jacket and heeled ankle boots finished the look. The outfit said she had dressed for the office rather than Aleks. Sixty–forty, maybe, but she’d never admit it.
Swirling her hair into a French twist, she donned understated but expensive jewelry, and grabbed her purse.
Portia slipped out of her apartment to the private elevator for her floor. She’d missed the ten-minute mark, but only by a minute. Alone in the elevator, she pulled a lipstick from her purse. Leaning close to the reflective interior wall, she slicked the color over her lips.
Pursing her lips, she studied her reflection. Almost there, but she still needed... something. Her gaze flicked to the counter marking the floors they passed. Just a few seconds until the doors opened. She swiped the lipstick over her lips again, this time with a heavier hand.
Another glance at her reflection showed her that the pink popped and provided the little something extra that she’d sought. “Perfect,” she told the Portia in the mirror.
The elevator stopped on the ground floor with barely a bump. She pressed a hand to her nervous stomach, then dropped it, smiling as the doors opened.
The doorman greeted her as she crossed to the front doors. “Good morning, Ms. Tremaine.” He glanced out the door, then looked back to her with a frown. “Your driver isn’t out front. Shall I call a car for you?”
“No need, Sam. I’m meeting someone outside.”
His rapid blinking was the only sign that she’d surprised him. “I see. Have a lovely day, Ms. Tremaine.”
“You too, Sam.” Portia smiled at the older man as he held the door for her. Sam had taken care of her and Tommy for years. What had started as treating the building’s employees well to keep Portia and Tommy’s business out of the tabloids had grown into a deep appreciation of the staff. Especially over the past year when they had taken extra care to ensure her privacy and protection. It was more than her father had ever done for her.
