Ashton sighs. “There isn’t much to tell. She’s new to this position, but she’s qualified. Janel is the type of person who only hires the best. I’ve worked with her before. Anybody who she thinks isn’t a right fit for her company barely makes it past the first month before quitting. Winter being there for a year means something.”
This is the first case she’s on, according to Janel. She must be picky if she waited this long to assign her. Lucky me for being the chosen one.
“There’s more,” I state. I know Ashton well enough to tell when he’s holding back information. “What aren’t you saying?”
There’s a brief pause before he sighs again, this time sounding withdrawn. “She’s ten years younger than you, Tom.The last thing she needs is to be wrapped up in your personal life in any way other than professionally. The kid has gone through enough.”
My nostrils flare. He’s forty-eight, so he’s allowed to call her that and mean it. “So you just called to tell me not to fuck her and mess up her life?”
For once, he doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Asshole.“I’m not a monster, Ash.”
“I know you’re not,” he affirms, sounding more genuine than he typically does. “But there’s a lot she doesn’t know about you that she’ll have to figure out if she’s going to clear your name. Let her do her job without giving her a hard time.”
He’s never been this firm about who I allow in my life. It isn’t like he encourages me to go after women, but he’ll turn a blind eye after telling me to wrap it before I tap it. This time seems different.
My eyes narrow in suspicion. “Do you know her?”
I don’t like the silence I’m met with.
“Ashton,” I growl.
He’s relatively local to Fairbanks, so it isn’t out of the realm of possibility that he knows her. Or knowsofher. And that doesn’t sit well with me.
“No,” he eventually says, but his voice doesn’t sound right. It’s forced. Distant. Hard. “I don’t know her. Not personally.”
But he does knowofher, and I want to know how. “Care to elaborate?” I press, grinding my teeth.
Suddenly, I want to know less about her and more about how my nearly fifty-year-old manager is attached to my latest obsession. He’s from Connecticut—a Greenwich boy originally whose family made it big as investment bankers in the city. According to him, he spent a lot of time in Fairbanks because of an old fling, so he has ties to this city. If Winter is local too, it would make sense that they may have crossed paths before.
Ashton does something I least expect. Turns me down. “No. I don’t. I’m simply calling to tell you to keep it professional. That’s it. Don’t put your dick anywhere near her. Use someone else if you need to get off, but not her. Understand?”
It shouldn’t bother me that I’m being warned away from her. But it does. I’ve never been a fan of being told no, and it’s not often I hear the word. I acknowledge how that makes me sound, but I don’t give a fuck. “You’re really not going to—”
I don’t get the question out before the dickhead hangs up on me.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, staring at the blank screen. I try calling him back, but it goes straight to voicemail.
If he thinks this is going to squash my intrigue over Winter Bronte, he’s dead wrong. He just fed a whole new interest that Iwillfind out one way or another.
*
I wake upin the middle of the night to the sound of footsteps creaking the aged floorboards in the hallway. The layout of the house isn’t as spread out as it might look from the outside. I’ve made downstairs my main living space, claiming the only bedroom on the first floor despite it being the smallest of all the rooms. The master is upstairs, along with an attached walk-in closet and bathroom that’s double the space. It’s too much room—a luxury I don’t deserve.
My ears perk up to the footsteps nearing my closed door. It would be my luck if I purchased a haunted house. As if my career being threatened to crumble around me isn’t enough, I get to deal with Casper the goddamn ghost haunting my ass.
I grab my lamp and rip the cord from the wall because the mid-weight metal is about as good a weapon as I can find on short notice.
And when I hear the doorknob jiggle, I hold my breath to be as quiet as possible. The room is bathed in darkness thanks to the blackout curtains I hung on the windows, so there isn’t easy visibility for whoever opens it.
When the door cracks, I hear the softest voice call out, “Little Bear?”
Wait a second.I know that voice.
“Emaly?” I ask, lowering the lamp. I’m instantly out of bed and walking over to the door to turn the light on. After my eyes adjust, I see the five-foot Russian woman in all her dark-haired, flawless beauty standing at my doorway. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I finish the question with a hug, pulling her into my body and listening to her soft chuckle against my bare chest. It’s a reminder that I’m only in a pair of boxer briefs because I get overheated easily when I sleep. I would feel bad about the lack of clothes, but it isn’t the first time that she’s seen me naked. It is, however, an improvement over the last time.
