He placed his hand on the center of my back and guided me to a door next to his office. He went in first, flipping on the light, and I didn’t understand what I was seeing.
What had once been a storage space was something else entirely now. In the middle of the room was a thick, cream-colored rug and two plush armchairs. In one corner sat a small, stainless steel fridge. A TV was mounted on the wall, and there were speakers in the corners.
“What is this?” I asked.
“A pumping room.”
“But there’s one downstairs. I don’t need anything special.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to share now. I had the space available. It wasn’t any trouble to convert it into a room for you. If it’s not suitable, tell me, and I’ll have the necessary changes made.”
“Of course it’s suitable,” I rushed out, moving deeper into the room. I sat down on one of the armchairs and sighed. “This is almost as comfortable as my desk chair. You might have to pry my sleeping body out of here.”
I looked up at him, surprised to see the flush rising on his face like it did when I inexplicably pissed him off. I supposed any boss wouldn’t have been pleased to hear his assistant planned on napping during the workday.
I hopped up, smoothing my dress over my hips, which were still wider than prepregnancy. To be fair to my hips, all of me was wider or softer or squishier than before I had Joey, and I was more self-conscious of my body than ever.
“I’m only kidding. I won’t fall asleep in here,” I promised. “Thank you for doing this. It’s nicer than anything I could have asked for.”
“You didn’t ask for anything. I wanted you to have it.”
I sighed. He really had no idea how much this meant to me.
Or maybe he did. His freezer was full of my milk stash, and he’d heard me quietly screaming when I’d accidentally spilled some. He’d even given Joey a bottle when I’d wanted to make sure she’d take one.
“Can I hug you?” I asked.
“If you feel like you have to.” He opened his arms wide. “Make it quick.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes, but I also walked right into him, giving his middle a tight squeeze. “This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, Elliot.”
“That’s too bad. On the scale of nice things, this is pretty low.” He slid his palm up and down my spine. “After all, I did this for purely selfish reasons.”
“Oh, is that right?”
“Yes. Now you won’t waste time going down to the other level when you can stay right here.”
I nodded. “Right. That makes sense. Efficiency.”
“My most valued quality.”
Laughing softly, I stepped out of his arms even though I sort of didn’t want to. “Well, whatever your motives, I appreciate it.” I nodded to the second armchair. “Is that for you so we can work through my pumping sessions?”
“Is that an option?”
“No.” I shoved his arm on my way out of the room. “Don’t get any ideas, Mr. Levy.”
“Don’t put them in my head, Ms. Warner.” He snagged my elbow before I reached my desk. “Are you forgetting our meeting?”
Reaching out, I picked up his schedule and waved it at him. “I’m not. I just needed this.”
The week was tough, but Elliot kept me busier than normal, so the days flew by. I had an inkling he was doing it on purpose to distract me from missing Joey-Girl.
Then again, I’d caught him watching the cameras on his phone more than once, so I might not have been the only one. That, or he was a control freak, paranoid about having a stranger in his home.
“Has Donald shown up again?” I asked on our way to the Rockford building.
“He’s shown up a couple times. Always gets turned away by security,” Elliot replied. “If he’s smart, he’ll retire to Florida and protect what little assets he has left.”
I shook my head. “I will never understand why a man his age is driven to make more money to the point he risks it all. It’s greed, plain and simple.”
“Nothing is ever that simple. It’s not always greed or ambition that drives rich men to get richer.”
“Then what?”
His jaw rippled. “Not every wealthy man started out that way.”
Elliot Levy was one of them. The information available to the public about his background was vague, but I had read enough to know both his parents had died prematurely and he’d been his sister’s guardian. He’d started Levy Development in his early twenties with an investment from his best friend, Weston Aldrich, who’d been born into extreme wealth. Elliot had taken that investment and used his ruthless instincts and business acumen to build his billion-dollar company.
By anyone’s standards, he was successful. He could’ve retired now and never worried. But he wasn’t anywhere near satisfied, and I wondered when he would be. If he would be.
“I get not wanting to ever be hungry again. But who needs billions? Aren’t millions enough?”
My question was half in jest, but Elliot responded to it seriously.
“What’s enough? Ensuring you’re never hungry? Your kids? What about grandkids? It’s not just money but security and power. Most who didn’t grow up with wealth had neither.”
“Even then, a few wrong moves, that security and power can be stripped and you’re nothing but a sad old man. I would think building a true life, with family and a network of friends, would offer more security. When Liam left, I’d floundered so badly because I didn’t have a village I could turn to.”
“One doesn’t preclude the other.” He started to say more but stopped, pressing his lips together. Then he met my gaze, locking onto it. “You have a village, Catherine. You just weren’t willing to open the door and see it until I forced my way in.”
My head jerked slightly, and my swallow got stuck in my throat. “I’m—” It was on the tip of my tongue to fight him, but he wasn’t wrong. I had people. Davida or Raymond would have helped, but I hadn’t asked. Deep down, I knew Elliot would have helped me too.
“You’re right. It’s really difficult to open the door after my first village let me down.”
He reached across the seat and squeezed my hand. “That won’t happen this time.”
Climbing out of the car, Elliot held his hand out and helped me out of the car, smoothing my sleeves down my arms.
“You don’t have to cover your tattoos.”
I tugged on a cuff, noting he’d gotten out of talking about his unyielding ambition by turning the tables on me. “It’s habit. Besides, I don’t own any short-sleeved tops appropriate for the office.”
He looked me over for a long, drawn-out moment then nodded once. “We’ll go shopping this weekend.”