It didn’t work. If anything, the warmth only sharpened the memory, dragging it through my mind in slow, traitorous detail.Eventually, I washed much faster than I’d planned and shut the water off before I could spiral any further.
After drying off just as quickly, I put on my underwear and slipped into soft cotton shorts and an oversized T-shirt, feeling marginally more like myself. I ordered dinner through a delivery app. Pasta, garlic bread, and a bottle of wine.
Before the food arrived, I unpacked the essentials and claimed the sprawling sectional facing the skyline as my temporary command center. I set my laptop on the coffee table and opened it, ready to dive into the records I had of Hinds’ company so I could get the ball rolling.
As soon as I was connected to the apartment’s WiFi, using the password I found on the router, a new email popped up. I smiled, a familiar thrill sparking through me, but I didn’t get a chance to read it. My phone lit up with an incoming call from Will Westwood.
He’d programmed all their numbers into my phone before I’d left the office, insisting that I let them know if I needed anything, but I hadn’t realized this trip would come with a chaperone. I answered, even though I was all Westwooded out for the day.
“Hey, Will,” I said. “What’s up?”
“How’s the apartment?” he asked warmly, his voice carrying that effortless charm I’d quickly learned was genuine with him. “Everything okay? Did you figure out the WiFi?”
“Yes, and the apartment is incredible. Tell Alex thank you for me. I might refuse to leave.”If not for my next-door neighbor.
He laughed. “We’ll have to make sure the bid doesn’t take too long, then. Can’t have you getting too comfortable. I’m pretty sure he won’t be able to afford keeping you there once he has to put up the cash for this deal.”
Surprise flickered through me. My mom had mentioned that they were modest, but I hadn’t expected to hear anything likethat from any of them. I knew it absolutely was not true, but it was cute he thought I might buy it.
“I’ll do my best to save him as much money as I can,” I said instead of getting snippy and telling him that I could afford the place myself and hadn’t needed Alex to pay for it in the first place. “What can I do for you?”
“I was calling to see if you’re available on Friday night. We’re having a private dinner with the family and we’d love if you would join us.”
I stared out at the city beyond the glass. “Of course. I’d like that.”
What else am I supposed to do in this city where I have no connections?
“Perfect. I’ll send you the details,” he said. “We’re looking forward to getting to know you better. Have a good night, Kate. Remember to let us know if you need anything. And Nate’s just across the hall.”
Don’t remind me.
With that, he said goodbye and I dropped my phone on the couch, tapping my fingers lightly across the cushion. Everyone knew the Westwoods were close knit and family oriented, but that was about the extent of my knowledge about them.
Other than that, to me, they were just rich old money. Still, I was curious. Shockingly, I was mostly curious about Nate.
I told myself it was professional, just a risk assessment that would help me understand the personalities tied to a major financial decision, but deep down, I knew that didn’t explain the way his voice had dipped when he’d talked to me or how easily he’d filled the hallway with his presence.
But I still opened a new browser tab and typed in his name. Search results populated instantly, business news articles, charity mentions, and scattered photographs from formalevents, but when I dug deeper, looking for anything personal, there was nothing.
No Instagram. No other socials. No tagged party photos. No digital footprint beyond those carefully curated professional appearances. Social media held no trace of him at all.Talk about control.
When my food arrived, it was brought directly to my door by the concierge. He balanced the bag and bottle of wine, smiling as he held them out to me.
“For you, Ms. Vanderhaul.”
“Thanks.” I accepted my dinner and was halfway through closing the door when movement across the hall caught my eye.
Nate was just getting back, all sweaty and flushed like the run had stripped him down to a more real, less controlled version of himself. His shirt was darkened along his spine and chest, outlining muscles that rippled with each step.
His blond hair was darker too, damp with strands sticking to his forehead in a way that made him look careless and distracting. I hated my body’s reaction to seeing him undone like this, but I couldn’t deny that my lungs had given up or that things were waking up down south.
He’s nice to look at, but so are a lot of men. Get over it.
Honestly, it didn’t matter how badly the guy needed a personality transplant. He was still incredibly easy on the eyes. Dark blond hair, those famous Westwood blues, and a jawline that probably had fan fiction written about it.
His mouth pressed into a line when he spotted me, his gaze sliding over the food bag, the wine bottle, then back to my face like he was gathering evidence. Just when I thought he might say something and prove himself an actual human, he rolled his eyes at me and walked into his apartment.
The door shut behind him with quiet finality, and the tension he left behind felt ridiculous, considering we’d exchangedexactly zero words. Shaking my head at both myself and the asshole, I thanked the concierge and went back inside, doing my best to ignore the awareness crawling across my skin.
