She gave me a nod, then clutched her purse, reached for her door handle, and flung herself out into the storm, quickly disappearing into the snow. I inhaled a heavy breath, then followed suit, running around the car and just about freezing my balls off by the time I made it into the house.
I dropped the bags next to the front door, shutting it quickly behind me. The interior was warm enough to make a rush ofrelief slide over my frozen skin. I brought my hands up to my mouth, blowing into them as I crossed to the nearest fireplace.
“Shit, that was cold,” I said, barely able to keep my teeth from chattering and letting out a low groan when I felt the heat from the fire wash over me. “Is the party even still happening with this weather?”
Jane slid her phone out of her pocket, checking it before she looked over at me and nodded. “Yeah, it looks like it. Zara says a little snow has never stopped them.”
I chuckled. “That sounds like her.”
“Do you know her well?”
I shrugged. “No, I don’t know her at all, but her brother has been working for us for a while. The company and the family. I wouldn’t call him a friend, exactly, but we’ve spent some time together. He talks about her a lot.”
“I didn’t realize you guys needed lawyers that often,” she teased, but then she shuddered. “I’ll be happy if I never have to talk to another lawyer for as long as I live.”
I nodded. “Your experience with them has definitely been different to mine, that’s for sure, but you’ll like her brother. If he’s even made it out tonight.”
She gave me a brief smile before glancing toward the stairs. “I should go change, but there’s no rush. We’ve still got at least an hour.”
“Noted.”
She laughed. “Corporate lingo is in your blood, isn’t it?”
“Guilty as charged,” I joked, and she laughed again. Then she allowed me to help her take her bag to one of the guest rooms while I took the other.
We didn’t talk about it, but I also wasn’t about to pressure her to start sharing a room, a bed, or anything else. If it was ever going to happen, it would happen when we were both ready for it.
In my own room, I changed into something more casual, jeans, a long-sleeved Henley, and a sweater, and then waited at the bottom of the stairs with a glass of whiskey in hand, listening to the wind howl outside.
When she finally came downstairs, she wore the faux-fur coat again, but beneath it was a mini cocktail dress with simple lines. It was nothing flashy, just gold like the ring on her finger, and my brain stalled completely at the sight of her.
This wasn’t part of the deal, this pull. The quiet, dangerous wanting, but as the storm raged outside, I knew that whatever this was becoming, I wasn’t walking away.
CHAPTER 23
JANE
The party turned out to be a young crowd packed into a converted warehouse that was all exposed brick and steel beams. The entire place smelled faintly of paint, ozone, and money trying very hard not to look like money.
Modern art climbed the walls in deliberate chaos, oversized canvases, installations that looked like they’d happened by accident, and sculptures that felt more like dares. A DJ played pulsing, electronic music from a raised platform, bass vibrating through the concrete floor.
A bar stretched along one wall, slinging cocktails topped with foam that came in strange, trendy flavors that looked better on Instagram than they tasted. I wrapped my fingers around the stem of my espresso martini and took a slow sip, letting the bitterness coat my tongue and deciding I liked it better hot—and as coffee rather than a cocktail.
From where I stood though, I watched Alex do his best to mingle and the sight made having to choke down the weird drink absolutely worth it. For the first time since I’d met him, he might actually be out of his element here.
On the other hand, he wasn’t lost. I didn’t think Alex Westwood would ever be lost, but he was definitely adjusting ashe observed, trying to play it off as nothing. He smiled easily, nodded at some of the right moments, and laughed when the people around him did.
He sure looked the part, though. Wearing fitted jeans and a sweater, his posture was relaxed, that confidence of his like a second skin, but there was a subtle stiffness to him that hadn’t been there before.
I could be wrong, but I had a feeling it was because this wasn’t a boardroom or old money leather chairs and crystal glasses. This was youth, noise, and art that dared you to question whether you were stupid for not getting it. If I was being honest, I’d tell him that I didn’t get most of it either, but instead, I was enjoying watching him do his own, very sophisticated, very polished version of squirming.
Two men about his age cornered him near a massive abstract piece that looked like someone had spilled neon paint and then charged six figures for the privilege of owning it. They gestured animatedly with their hands cutting through the air. Alex listened, head tipped slightly and his expression attentive. Then he laughed.
It was so natural and disarming that one of the men clapped him on the shoulder, but even though he finally seemed to be making friends, he extricated himself from them smoothly a few moments later and made his way back to me like gravity itself had pulled him in my direction.
“Can I get you another drink?” he asked, leaning close enough that I could hear him over the music.
“I’m good,” I said, lifting my glass slightly to show him I was still not even halfway done with my wish-it-had-been-coffee drink. “Who were you talking to?”
