“I figured that one out. And now we’re in a shitstorm that I’ll get sorted out, but I need you to promise me this was a one-off and you’re not following up with something bigger and better.”
“Like a trip to Vegas and a wedding? No. My follow-up was handing in my resignation, and Ed is taking me home to become a hermit for the rest of my life.”
“Resignation?” Creighton’s shock comes through the phone line loud and clear. “Did they ask for it?”
I shake my head and then realize he can’t see me. “No. In fact, they made it very clear that the firm didn’t support my choice and I should make sure you understand that.”
“Fuckers. I’ll find a new firm anyway, especially if they made you feel like shit about it.”
I almost don’t say the words burning on my tongue, but I can’t hold them in. “Like you just did?”
“I’m sorry, Greer. You deserve better than that.”
“You’re forgiven. I’ll stay out of trouble, and you won’t have to worry about my actions killing your stock price, okay?”
“You need me to come home? Circle the wagons? Kill anyone who looks at you the wrong way?”
That would be a whole lot of dead bodies, if my experience at the office is anything to go by. But I don’t need my big brother to save me.
“It’s okay. You need to be with Holly. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“All right, but fucking answer the phone when I call so I don’t lose my mind, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Love you, Greer.”
“Love you, Crey.”
I hang up the phone and hand it back to Ed, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Thanks a lot.”
“I was getting sick of answering his calls. He’s just worried about you, Ms. Karas.”
“I know.”
I slouch back into the leather seat, thinking about what Creighton said as the familiar noises of Manhattan surround me all the way home.
The cushy tan leather recliners in the private jet I get to use as part of my FleetJet subscription are a hell of a lot different from the tiny seat I was crushed into in coach the day I flew to LA with all my shit in two duffel bags. I avoided New York for three years by only doing interviews on the West Coast, but now I’m riding back in style.
The kind of style Greer Karas is accustomed to. I wonder absently if she has ever flown coach. Probably not.
The last time I saw her, there was no way I could give her that kind of life. It’s funny how things change. But then again, some things never do. Like Greer and her balls to the wall style.
I chuckle as I tip back my Crown and Coke, remembering the first time we ever spoke . . .
The thick soles of my work boots sounded too loud on the marble floor, even with the nonstop chatter of the student coffee shop. These kids weren’t all that much younger than me, but damn if they didn’t make me feel old.
Of course, I saw her before I got in line. Greer Karas, sister to the infamous billionaire. But that wasn’t why I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She was impossible to look away from. Beautiful in the kind of way that feels like a punch to the gut and a kick to the balls at the same time.
I placed my order. Black coffee. None of that frou-frou latte shit the law-school punks drank. As soon as I had the cup in hand, my eyes went back to her. Thick dark hair, sparkling dark eyes, smooth olive skin, knockout body with a curvy ass and perfect tits. Pure class stamped all over her.
She was also completely fucking oblivious ninety-nine percent of the time. The guys who stared at her ass went unnoticed, and so did the other chicks who sent her killing glares when their men couldn’t help but follow the sway of her hips as she walked by. Her laugh was louder than the other girls’, like she just didn’t give a fuck who heard it because there was nothing she was going to do to corral it. Great laugh.
For three days, I’d spent more than I should have on this fancy coffee. I should have gone to the hole in the wall across the street where the rest of the maintenance crew and janitors went, but I couldn’t stay away. Three days until I became painfully aware of that one percent of the time Greer wasn’t totally oblivious.
I settled into a chair at a tiny table in the corner, pulling out the newspaper I used as a distraction. When I looked up, I’d lost sight of her.
But she hadn’t lost sight of me. Out of nowhere, she dropped into the chair across from me and spoke.
“You going to perv on me for a few more days before you finally drum up the courage to talk to me?”
Shocked, I sucked my coffee down the wrong pipe and hacked into my hand. My eyes watered as I took in her challenging and still curious grin. It wasn’t a combination I’d seen before, but on her, it came off sexier than it should have.
“Excuse me?” I said when I could breathe again.
“You’ve been watching me. I’ve been waiting for you to invite me to sit down and have coffee with you, but you haven’t. I gave you three days, and I’m sick of waiting.” She set her coffee cup down on the table between us. “So I decided to take the initiative and brought my own.”
Is this chick for real?