Portia laughed. The Jack would do practically anything for a fee. That could work.
She nibbled on her thumbnail, studying all the angles.
Last night when she’d slipped out of the bar with Aleks, Taryn had checked to make sure she was okay to go. Before she could second-guess her decision, Portia messaged Taryn.
The response was nearly immediate, simply asking for her address. She sent her location, grateful for Taryn’s lack of questions.Ten minuteswas the last response.
With a sigh of relief, Portia shoved her phone back into her pocket. She didn’t want to leave the sanctuary of the bathroom, but the sooner she faced Aleks, the sooner she could go home and forget this happened.
The bedroom was empty when she opened the door. A small rush of emotion speared through her. Relief, not disappointment. She was glad he wasn’t waiting for her in the bedroom. Right?
Although she didn’t see Aleks, she sensed his presence. He’d thoughtfully placed the rest of her belongings on a chair right outside the bathroom door. Portia slipped on her shoes and threaded her purse over her arm. She took a deep breath, summoning her Ice Queen armor, then left the bedroom.
He’d opened the curtains and hazy morning light filtered into the small sitting room through the privacy shade. It was a nice space, what you’d expect from a high-end hotel, but her gaze was drawn to the man in the middle of it all. Aleks sat on the small couch, an open laptop on the coffee table in front of him, and a cup of coffee cradled in one hand.
He’d taken advantage of her time in the bathroom to dress as well. The casual jeans and button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up fit him perfectly. While it was a damn shame to cover his amazing body, she’d be a lot more uncomfortable if he were still in his robe, so close to naked.
In her don’t-notice-me clothes from the night before, Portia felt dowdy in comparison. She shoved that thought away. Ten minutes. That was all she had to get through. Less, probably.
“Good morning, Mr., um, Aleks.” It was impossible—and embarrassing—to greet someone formally when you didn’t know their last name.
He looked up from his computer and smiled at her. “Good morning, Portia.”
His attempt to match her gravity eased her discomfort.
“My ride will be here shortly.” In the meantime, she had no idea what to do. Did she sit? Stand? Flee for the lobby?
That last thought settled it. She was a Tremaine. She would not run.
He closed his computer and stood. “Would you like me to wait with you?”
“No. Thank you.” Her cheeks flushed. This whole morning-after thing was awkward as hell. How did people do this?
She didn’t know what else to say, so she smiled, then moved toward the door.
He followed her and while his presence could have been creepy or intimidating, it felt almost comforting. What the hell did that mean?
Turning when she reached the door, they were face to face again. She shivered at the echo of last night’s passion.
“Thank you.” The words slipped out. Surprising, because she had no idea what she was thanking him for. For a satisfying sexual encounter? For being so easygoing? For being a safe place for her to regain her life and her sex drive?
“You’re welcome,” he said with a smile that lit up his eyes and warmed her blood. “Can I see you again?”
Pulse suddenly loud in her ears, her body urged her to say yes. But logic—and a sudden rush of guilt for enjoying herself, for thinking of doing anything other than cleaning up her father’s messes and identifying any other secrets behind Tommy’s death—stopped her.
She shook her head. The swish of her braids across her neck was disconcerting. “I don’t think so.”
He nodded. A part of her wished he would try to change her mind, while a part of her was glad he didn’t. She didn’t know which part she wanted to win.
“Be well.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. Just a whisper of pressure against her skin, then he stood in front of her again like it had never happened.
“You too,” she said. She turned around and fumbled with the doorknob.Pull it together, Portia!Portia Tremaine did not get discombobulated. She always had a plan. Always knew what her next step was going to be.
Until her whole world had fallen part.
Aleks didn’t try to help and eventually she got the door open. She didn’t turn around, too embarrassed by her struggle—internal and external—to face him again. He held the door open for her, his hand braced against the metal several inches above her head.
Portia slipped through the opening and strode down the hall, listening for the sound of the door closing. It didn’t happen immediately and she was incredibly conscious of him watching her until the elevator opened.
