Jacob glanced at his watch. He still had six of his ten minutes left. Plenty of time.
Five minutes later, he set the box on the nightstand, its lid removed and pushed to the side. He didn’t glance inside. That wasn’t his business. He did, however, find a notepad and a pen in her nightstand next to a box of condoms that was nearly empty, thanks to him.
A minute later, he left the room, not looking back.
Chapter Twenty-One
Akira was miserable.
She wasn’t accustomed to being miserable, so it was particularly worrisome. Friends didn’t help. Work was a chore. She could throw another house party, but the thought made her feel nauseous. It would only remind her of Jacob.
Too many things did. In the past month, she’d been certain she could get over him, but then she’d see someone with messy hair or hear a particular intonation in a stranger’s voice or look into a pair of green eyes, and she fell in the vortex of her memories.
She touched her purse, as if to reassure herself that the note Jacob had left her the morning after she had hid from him like a coward was still there, nestled in a place of honor next to the precious contents of her grandmother’s puzzle box.
You might be able to forget about him quicker if you didn’t haul his damn letter around.
How could she not, though? She had read it so many times, the paper was becoming dangerously fragile. She could recite it from memory.
I figured out how to unlock this the last time we were in your office. Sorry, I just didn’t want my time with you to end. I suppose you’ve decided differently.
I won’t chase you again. But if you decide to take a risk and come to me, I won’t turn you away.
I like you. If you let me, I could love you. All of you.
She jerked her hand from her purse as the elevator doors opened. She climbed inside with a throng of other people and pressed to the back. Since that morning, when she had sat silently curled up on the bed in a guestroom until Harris told her Jacob had left, she no longer had any desire to be the center of attention. Let someone else be the party girl, the star. Let someone else shut the club down. Let her be lost in a sea of people.
Manhattan was a good place to let that happen. She was here to meet with the Anderson Group for what would hopefully be the final time. The due diligence was completed, the sales and purchase agreement vetted. All the CEO had to do was accept her final bid, damn it, and sign on the line.
She could have sent her attorneys. The man had taken a strong dislike to her, so he might respond better to someone else wooing him. However, she’d never hidden behind a bunch of old white men before, and she was hardly going to start now.
Even if she was miserable. The corners of her mouth turned down.
The elevator doors opened, and the other passengers milled about her, disembarking. Preoccupied, she was about to step out, when a booming voice filled her ears. “Hello, Akira.”
She froze. She would know that upper-crust English accent anywhere. No, no, no. Not now. Not ever, but especially not now. Bracing herself, she lifted her head and looked up into her father’s face. “You.”
“Me.”
In a move that had become instinctive, she glanced around for cameras. No one else was in the elevator. Probably for the first time since she had seen him after his damn show had started, he was alone.
He accurately interpreted her look. “No, no cameras today.” He leaned in, prompting her to take a step back. He was always doing that, forcing himself into places where he wasn’t welcome.
Guilt flashed through her. Like she had always done to Jacob, barging in to his space?
No. He had stormed her castle that last time. She’d told him to stay away. Then she’d let him ride her to blissful exhaustion, but she’d warned him, hadn’t she?
Hiro hit the ground-floor button.
Her hand tightened around her purse.Ignore him.“Excuse me, I have an appointment.”
“You’ll find it’s been canceled.”
She halted and turned on her heel, barely noticing when the door closed behind her. “What?”
“It’s been canceled.” Her father gave her a thin smile. Hiro was a handsome man, she supposed, tall and slender and elegant. Everyone, particularly Mei, claimed Akira resembled him.
Only in looks, she assured herself. The thought of favoring him in anything else sent a chill down her spine.
