“Please.” She squeezes again. “You’re the only person who has kept me from feeling completely alone. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Same.”
I smooth the skirt over my hips and then brush a stray blonde hair back into my bob.
I have naturally dark hair that I’ve always worn long.
But after what happened a couple of weeks ago with Vigo, new hair is part of the hiding-in-plain-sight plan. With a deep breath, I grab my legal notebook and stuff it in the bag with my old beat-up laptop.
Leaving Erika’s corporate apartment, I hit the elevator button to head down to the lobby.
Erika is the administrative assistant to three of the lawyers on the legal team.
She took a reduction in pay to be allowed a discounted rent in the building. If I don’t get the same offer, Erika already said we could stay with her. But I’d rather have my own place. Living with an almost-four-year-old is a lot to ask, and I don’t want to overuse her generosity.
But if I get the job, and the apartments are all filled, I’m just hoping that I can get a spot in the building’s daycare.
Not only would it be convenient, but I also see the teachers with the children, and they are wonderful. At three years old, it’s time for Emma to start spending time with other children.
In general, it’s just time for us to build a real life, one that Vigo can’t destroy with a single blow.
The elevator opens, and I cross the massive lobby to the receptionist’s desk.
There are almost always three women stationed there, all looking polished and professional. I hear they are well paid, but I would not want to be at the front desk like that. Too visible.
Keeping my shoulders straight, and head high, I move toward them. One sees me coming and returns my smile. “Hi,” I give a little wave. “Gigi Hope, here for my one o’clock appointment with Ellen Masters.”
“Hi, Gigi,” she dips her chin. “I’ll let her know you’ve arrived.”
“Thank you.” I step to the side, letting out a long breath of air. Saying my new name out loud helped me clear out the jitters. I can do this.
The receptionist picks up the phone, speaking softly for a minute. “Ms. Hope, Ellen will see you now. Fifteenth floor, her assistant will greet you at the elevator doors.”
I nod before I cross the lobby once again, returning to the large bank of elevators that service the building.
The apartments are between the sixteenth and twenty-fourth floors. The twenty-fifth floor is the offices of the Smiths, and the twenty-sixth is the private residence of the CEO, Rushton Smith.
His name is only ever said in whispers.
I’ve never seen him, though I can confess to being a touch curious. Like I said, there aren’t many men who get the better of Vigo.
I press the pad for the elevators and step back, waiting for one of them to open. The doors just to my right slide apart and I move toward them, stepping inside, and feeling more confident with each step. With another fortifying gulp of air, I choose the fifteenth floor.
“Hold the doors,” a male voice barks from the lobby, making me jump. Not even his English accent smooths out the irritation in his tone.
My hand automatically shoots out to obey, even as I turn to see who was speaking.
My jaw drops as I stare.
Striding toward me, his long, powerful legs eating the ground between us, is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
Dark hair waving back from his face, square jaw, broad shoulders, he is the picture of strong masculinity with the perfect touch of elegance.
I don’t have to ask to know that this is one of the Smiths. If the Armani suit didn’t give it away, the words he’s barking into his cell phone most certainly do.
“The Jersey waterfront deal is the lifeblood of our New York holdings. What do you mean you didn’t make it to the courts on time?”
I would hate to be whoever is on the other end of that line. Being married to a man like Vigo, I’m used to hard men.
