“That you can trust?”
“That’s right. You’d simply call me once a day and give me an update on his medical condition and the projects he’s working on.”
“‘The projects he’s working on,’” I repeat. “Why would I do that?”
“I have to tidy things up if he suddenly crashes.”
“No,” I say quickly, not sure whose side she’s on and not sure it matters. I’ll protect Shane directly, not through a third party. “I can’t do that.” I punch the elevator button again. “I won’t.”
“It’s fifty thousand dollars.”
“It’s me becoming a spy in this war going on in this family. Who are you going to pass the information to? Derek or Shane?”
“You know more than I thought.”
“It doesn’t take much to figure out the obvious.”
“This is for me and him.”
And him. That seals the deal, because Brandon Senior sure as hell doesn’t have Shane’s best interest in mind. “No,” I say. “And if this means you’re going to fire me, I’ll live with that.”
She studies me several seconds, her expression unreadable, but there is a tiny quirk to her lips. “To be clear. Your answer is no.”
“No,” I repeat. “So if you’re going to—”
“You’re not fired, Emily. Have a good weekend.” She turns away and walks toward the offices. I watch her until she disappears behind the glass doors, baffled by what just happened. The elevator dings and I give myself a mental shake before hurrying inside the car. Facing forward, the steel doors shut me inside, and I’m still thinking, What just happened? Was that a test to see if I can be bought? Or did she really mean to have me spy for her? I am still clueless when I step out of the car into the lobby.
At the front doors, I exit to a gust of wind laced with a chill us Texans call winter, while Coloradans seem to call it year-round. Vowing to buy a light jacket with my first paycheck, I find my way to Sixteenth Street, where I stop, my gaze finding the towering building that is the Four Seasons. Where Shane is and where I was with him. Where I want to be now, and suddenly, every reason I have for pushing him away feels small compared to the reality cancer delivers. Life can be short, a reality I’ve learned the hard way and I know he’s faced with now himself. I can’t stay away. I start walking and the next thing I know, I’m standing at the entryway of the hotel and Tai is greeting me.
“Emily. Good to see you. Do you want me to call upstairs and tell Mr. Brandon you’re here, or is he coming down for you?”
“I’ll call him from inside myself,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Let me know if I can do anything for you while you’re here.”
“I will. Thank you.”
He steps aside, giving me a grand wave forward, and that’s when my nerves kick in. Shane isn’t expecting me and he told me he’d had second thoughts about us, going so far as to tell me to stay away from him. And I should. I know that, but I just … can’t. Not tonight. I move through the lobby, digging my phone from my purse, and it hits me that at any moment, Brandon Senior could appear. It’s not likely, after his wife joined him at the office, but it’s possible. That has me double-stepping and rounding the corner to the elevator bank and punching in Shane’s number, each ring radiating through me with a new push of nerves.
“Emily,” he says when he answers, his voice sounding raspy.
“I’m downstairs, by your elevators, and I’m really nervous about your father returning and seeing me. Please come get me.”
“You’re here.”
“Yes. I’m here.”
Silence follows, stretching eternally it seems, before he says, “Don’t move.” The line goes dead. He’s on his way down and I’m not sure if it’s to tell me to go or ensure that I stay.
You weren’t supposed to walk away no more …
—Tommy Agro
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EMILY
The elevator door opens and Shane appears, dressed in black sweats and a black T-shirt, his tennis shoes unlaced as if he’d thrown on clothes to come and get me. My eyes meet his and the connection is a charge that lights up my body. What this man makes me feel is simply indescribable and I suddenly can’t breathe for the impact of seeing him.
“Come here,” he orders softly.
I don’t hesitate, crossing the small space between us and stopping in front of him where he holds the doors open. “Why are you here?” he asks, and he doesn’t reach for me or touch me when I want him to touch me. And I want to touch him perhaps more than I have ever wanted to touch anyone.
“You know why,” I reply.