Jesus. Dig the grave a little deeper, why don’t you?
“I see.” He pauses. “The city, as I’m sure a smart girl like you knows, isn’t always safe.”
“Of course. I grew up—” I stop, not really wanting to admit where I grew up. The other side of the tracks, basically. “I understand. Sir.”
“And there are a lot of creeps out there. Men looking to take advantage of beautiful, young women like you.”
Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful.
“Do you go out a lot, Amara?” he presses on.
Beautiful. Amara. Beautiful. Amara.
“Only when my friend Electra asks me to. She’s the one who sets me up on the dates, sir.”
“She has poor taste in men,” he says flatly.
I kind of laugh at that. “Yeah, she’s not very good at vetting men on the internet.”
Ransome doesn’t find it funny. His frown deepens and I close my mouth.
“I advise you to stop allowing this Electra to choose the men you go out with.”
I tilt my head to the side slightly. “Sir?”
“Do you have an emergency contact, Amara?”
“I have a… a sister…” I string the answer out like I’m not sure if it’s the right one. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he actually is worried about me.
“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” he says. There is no lilt in his tone. No emotion implying one thing or another. But the words themselves are more than I ever expected from Ransome Rozanov. More than I’d ever hoped for.
Maybe… maybe he cares.Actuallycares.
Maybe…he is even interested. Who crashes a date and demands you don’t let other men touch you if they aren’t jealous? And jealousy is a default of interest, right?
Oh. My. God.
So it WAS my name he said when I was watching him get himself off in his office.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My lips tug into a grin and I stand up, straightening my dress. “Thank you, sir. And also, I’m sorry, sir. You don’t need to worry about?—”
“I’m not.” Then he picks up his schedule off the desk and holds it out to me. “Also, I need you to make an adjustment. I’ll be leaving work early today. I have a date.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll edit that right away. What kind of date? Apex business? Dinner with your father? Drinks with Maverick and?—”
“A date. With a woman.”
“A… woman…?” I stutter the words out and Ransome’s eyes flicker in annoyance.
“Jenica Chadovich. Daughter of Dmitry Chadovich, CEO of Chadovich Investors. Or have you forgotten every important name in my life?”
“No, sir. Of course not, sir. Right away, sir.”
It isn’t until I am back in my own office, door closed, that I let out the rage I am feeling. I crumple up the schedule and chuck it across the room. Not that it does much damage. It’s a ball of paper, after all.
“A ball of paper that I have to add Jenica Chadovich’s name to. What kind of name is that anyways?” I mutter, pulling my phone up. I know the name only through hearing him talk, though she isn’t usually part of meetings.
