My SUV waits on the curb, and I help her in before climbing into the driver’s seat.
It doesn’t take long to get to my penthouse. We’re mostly silent until we’re through the traffic and up my elevator, heading into my living room.
“I always forget how big it is.” She sighs.
Compared to her little mid-century house, I guess so, but there are days when I’d prefer a smaller space. I don’t do much here besides work and sleep, or else brood in front of the firepit on the balcony long after most of Seattle falls asleep.
Call it what it is—first world problems for a man who’s learning to carve his name on the world with more than money.
I get her seated and bring her a glass of water.
“So, tomorrow,” she prompts. “What are we doing again?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk about.”
She folds her arms like she’s hugging herself, looking so small. She’s still not making much eye contact.
She may look more relaxed, but there’s no mistaking how guarded she seems after that Salvador Dali–mustache creep crashed her evening.
I don’t usually let my anger simmer—growing up, grudges were a luxury. Any resentment had to be abruptly squashed under the stifling blanket of polite civility.
Most people think of rich guys as being spoiled, and maybe we are. But for me, growing up old money, everything about my life was so perfectly planned and conditioned I wasn’t free to misbehave.
Not until I started to mutiny, acting out as a teenager.
Guess that rubbed off when I chose a life in the public eye, every movement and word carefully crafted for effect.
There’s no room for impulsivity.
Yet here I am.
My mom would call me confused right now.
My dad would throw a fit over laying hands on an intruder instead of waiting for the hired help to do it for me.
That doesn’t mean I have any intention of changing a single damn thing.
Lena huffs out a long breath, her chest heaving as she pushes out every last bit of air in a long sigh.
I shuffle closer, taking her hand.
“Forget tomorrow. Tell me about today,” I press gently. “Don’t mince words or worry what I’ll do. Because any guy after you is my problem.”
She narrows her eyes. “I already told you he wasn’t.”
“Listen, Sass. The second I heard you tell him to leave and he didn’t, he became my issue. Top of the fucking list. I wasn’t about to stand back while he tried to muscle his way into your house.”
I stop short of telling her that I’m not going to let her leave here tonight. Not until I know the situation and assess whether or not she’s truly safe.
I already know there’s more to this than meets the eye. Until today, I’ve never imagined her truly scared before.
“Think of it as returning the favor after you helped me with Nancy.”
“You didn’t need my help.”
“Sure as hell appreciated it, though. Paying you back, that’s the least I can do.” I glance at her slowly. “What the hell did he want?”
“He just wanted to talk about the clinic.” She closes her eyes and leans back against the sofa.
