It was Adam’s term to narrow his eyes. “Acompetentassistant.”
She set her jaw. “I assure you I can handle this.”
“You’re too sweet. This job will eat you alive.”
She planted her hands on her hips, and he schooled himself not to notice her curves. She wore a gray business skirt, one that hugged her hips and then went straight down to her knees. Very professional. Not at all alluring. Unless the woman wearing it was Bella.
“My father is a good man and an excellent lawyer. There’s no reason I have to be an a—” She swallowed back the curse word. “—jerk to complete the project.”
Adam moved into her personal space, using the shiny black mask with eye and mouth holes to his advantage. “Your father is a thief. He acquired this contract on a promise he wasn’t able to deliver.”
“Because he had heart surgery,” she cried.
“You see, you’re too emotional—this will never do.” He shouldered past her and resumed pacing.
“Well, you’re irrational and demanding.” She glared after him.
Suddenly, Adam didn’t want her to leave. He couldn’t explain it fully if he tried, and the last thing he wanted to do was try to explain why he wanted her around. “Fine. I’ll give you one week.” He lifted a finger. “You’ll work undermylicense—it’s the only way anyone will take you seriously. And you’ll stay here. I won’t be leaving the castle to sign papers or rescue you when you discover you’re way over your head.”
“Agreed.” She held out her hand.
Adam took it, and a spark raced up his arm, exactly like the one that had gotten him at the courthouse when he’d seen her eyes. He released her quickly, for once thankful for the mask to hide behind. He turned on his heel, the running shoe squeaking on the highly polished floor and making his exit more comical than dramatic. He scowled.
“Ah, there you are.” Ben jumped away from where he leaned casually against the wall in the hallways, out of sight but obviously listening to the whole conversation and biding his time.
Adam lowered himself into the chair, frustrated that his strength had only lasted so long. “Find out what we can do to get out of this contract. The politicians will eat her alive.”
Ben began pushing him down the hall towards his private wing; Adam couldn’t wait to get into his huge four-poster bed and sleep. “Oh, I don’t know. She stood up to the Beast.”
Adam harrumphed and rested his chin on his fist. “She tried.”
“Tried and succeeded. After all, you are the one running away with his tail between his legs.” Ben’s voice clearly held a smile.
Adam twisted in his seat, his stitches pulling. “I never run away.”
Ben laughed. “Of course not. You are leaving the argument, that you lost, with your dignity intact.”
“I didn’t lose. I compromised,” he grumbled. They entered his wing, and the last of his energy slipped away. “But I’ll dismiss you without argument if you continue to take her side.”
“Of course.” Ben smiled knowingly. Adam threatened to fire him at least once a month. He probably took it as a sign that Adam’s constitution was improving.
If Adam had the energy, he’d banish the insufferable man. He sighed as he settled into the blankets. He was only awake long enough to chuckle at the memory of Bella’s righteous indignation. There was a fire inside that woman, one he was certain he could easily fan.
Chapter Six
Charles
Charles lounged in an overstuffed chair at a coffee shop on Broadway. His new assistant, Lee, waited at the counter to place his order. He rather liked having an assistant. Lee came with the new job, a nephew or something of one of the managing partners.
Bella had done a lot for him when they were together and would have made a much better assistant than the half-wit he was stuck with now. She’d organized his apartment, kept his desk clean, and ironed his shirts once a week. He glanced down and scowled at the shirt he’d put on right out of the dryer. The internet site had promised no ironing needed if he put it in the dryer with a damp washcloth. There may not have been wrinkles, but the shirt didn’t have that crisp edge to it that he’d grown so fond of. Lee didn’t iron—the man wore more wrinkles that Charles’s great-aunt Petunia.
He glanced around the bustling shop, his eyes landing on a man he’d only met a few times. Martin Creer was shuffling along in line, his face pale. Bella had kept in close contact with her father while they dated, but Charles managed to miss most of their scheduled lunches and dinners. Birthdays were harder to excuse, so he’d suffered through the awkwardness.
Speaking of Bella, Charles hadn’t heard from her since she’d given him back the ring. Where had he put that? It didn’t matter much. It wasn’t like it had cost him more than a nice dinner. Still, the fact that she hadn’t called to check on him, to ask about his new job, or to see if he needed anything from the market chafed. She’d said she support his dreams. Where was that support now?
He threw himself out of the chair and across the room. “Martin, old man, good to see you again.” He grabbed Martin’s hand and pumped it like a politician working for campaign donations. “How is Bella? I’ve hardly stopped thinking about her these past few weeks.”Had it really been that long?
Martin rubbed his hand over his chest. “I’m afraid she’s not doing well.”
