“Hey, she got you a job. That’s great. See, things work out.”
“Yeah. I guess. Anyway, if I take the job, I’d be commuting into the city. That would be too long of a day for you to be here alone.”
“So, we’d have to move to the city?”
It was difficult to tell if he liked the idea or not. “Probably.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“We’d have to get you into a school there.”
“Okay.”
Just like that? “It would be a big move for both of us. Are you sure?”
“I’ve been looking at schools affiliated with Columbia University. Some of them are in New York and two of them have awesome soccer teams.”
It was the first time Whitney had seemed excited about choosing a potential school to enroll in. “If you’re onboard, I’ll tell them I’ll take the job contingent on finding an apartment and a school you like.”
“You can do that?”
Angelina’s face warmed as she remembered the way Connor had looked at her before she’d offended him. “I think so. They seem to really want me.”
By “they” I mean Connor.
And I’m either bravely taking a leap of faith because this is a life-changing opportunity I’d be crazy to pass up.
Or . . . nope, I’m not going to put a bad spin on this.
Connor Sutton . . . please be the man Sophie Barrington thinks you are.
Chapter Nine
Two weeks later, Connor paced back and forth in front of Kimmie’s desk. Mrs. Tellier called out from her desk across the room. “You’ll wear the rug out if you keep that up.”
Connor paused and adjusted the sleeves of his jacket. “Are you sure today is the day she’s scheduled to start? It’s nine fifteen.”
Kimmie didn’t turn to check her calendar. “I told her it was okay to be here by ten. Her son started at his new school today as well. She’ll be here.”
“Her office is all set?” he asked.
“Everything is ready for her,” Mrs. Tellier assured him.
“I actually have a few phone meetings scheduled this morning. We’re looking into buying an apartment building in downtown Brooklyn. I’m coordinating with some local urban renewal experts to rejuvenate not just the building, but also the area surrounding it. If we do this right, the families of veterans will have an affordable community option. Clay has the job-assistance program in place. The medical support. I’m adding a community center and a park.”
Kimmie’s smile was bright. “And you weren’t sure you could do this.”
He looked at her with a confident smile. “It’s a big endeavor, but these families have no money, and I completely know what that’s like. They don’t want a handout—they want opportunities.”
Mrs. Tellier sighed. “If Angelina doesn’t marry you, I’ll marry you myself.”
Connor’s hands went cold and he cleared his throat. “I never said I wanted to marry her. Let’s take this whole thing down a notch. She needed a job. I wanted to see her again. She may not want to date me.”
Kimmie chuckled. “You’re adorable when you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous. Women throw themselves at me all the time. That’s all Angelina is—just another woman. You both need to relax.”
“We need to relax?” Mrs. Tellier joked.
Connor stopped when he realized he’d begun pacing again. He’d had two weeks to think about this day and plan how he would act. If he didn’t calm down he was going to blow it. “Don’t you two have a book to work on?”
“Yes, sir,” Kimmie said with a salute.
“Connor,” Mrs. Tellier said in a more serious tone.
Connor had already started walking toward his office. He stopped and turned. “Yes?”
“Just be yourself and you’ll do fine,” she said.
He nodded then walked through his office door and closed it behind him. Myself? I don’t even know who that is anymore.
He moved to stand at the large window behind his desk and looked out over the city. His brother Dylan wanted to know when he intended to start his next movie. His agent was asking the same thing.
Connor had a pile of scripts to read through.
He hadn’t started any of them yet.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy acting. Hell, he still couldn’t believe how much people got paid to pretend to be someone else. The problem was he felt like acting didn’t stop when he stepped off the set. Part of him wanted to walk away from all of it, but he couldn’t.
He loved his family and this was now who they were.
Working for Clay’s foundation was surprisingly more rewarding than intimidating . . . as long as he remembered to be the Connor Sutton his fans thought he was. Was it worth it? Hell, yes. The more families he met through the program, the more he realized the enormity of the impact he could have on their lives. It was humbling. Such power belonged in the hands of a better educated man, someone more deserving.
All I can do is my best to make things happen for them and try not to fuck up.
His first business call rang through. He did his impression of Bradford and negotiated the cost of the building down significantly, then put them on hold for no reason other than to make them wait. Working off the advice he’d received at his last meeting with his team, he returned with a non-negotiable list of things that would need to be fixed on the building. When the seller agreed to them, Connor nearly let out a whoop, but kept his cool.
He couldn’t break character. Not while so many were relying on him.
Claire called him next to remind him of a photo shoot the next day he’d agreed to months earlier. It was for an online subscription calendar, the proceeds of which went to support local animal rescues. Who could say no to helping puppies and kittens?
“What should I wear?” he’d asked.
She’d laughed. “They provide the outfits, but the theme is you on the beach throughout the seasons. Apparently women want to see that chest of yours twelve months of the year.”
Great. Thankfully, he wasn’t self-conscious. There was a difference between being on a beach, though, and prancing around in trunks in a studio while someone called out for him to smile more, or less, or differently.
It took acting to a whole new level.
After hanging up, he pocketed his hands and let out a long sigh. Any moment, Angelina would walk in. In his fantasy, he swept her into his office, popped open two ice-cold beers, and laid the whole messed up story out for her. They laughed, she proclaimed the real him was so much sexier than his public persona, they fucked on his desk and lived happily ever after.
Sometimes his fantasy involved that leading to them fucking on his couch.
A few times against the wall.
Once in front of the window.
More than once on the plush rug.
He’d had enough time to think about this that he’d imagined some creative things they could do with the other furniture in the room as well.
It was a dangerously addictive fantasy to indulge in. The reality of their relationship was that so far she’d said no, followed by no with a side of hell no.
And now she works for me.