He was right. I’d slept much better on my own without his distracting, rock-hard body next to me. It was the right call, but part of me wondered what would have happened if I’d not had this meeting today. If I’d have stayed. Then what? I could feel myself getting in deeper with him every moment we spent together. Now we weren’t playing games, where were our boundaries?
I paid the check, swallowing down my fear that the credit card I was holding was going to malfunction and I’d be forced to spend the rest of the decade washing dishes to pay off the wine. It went through like I was spending ten dollars on an Uncle Chubby at Regina’s Grocery rather than almost a thousand bucks for two steaks and a bottle of champagne.
As I stepped out onto the street, I pulled my coat tight around me. A New York spring could be bitterly cold.
“Hey, Rossi,” a voice from up the street called. I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. It sounded like Andrew, but it couldn’t be, right?
A driver stepped out of a limo to my left and opened the passenger door. “Ms. Rossi.”
I bent to see who was inside and found Andrew grinning at me. “Get in, it’s bloody freezing.”
I slid into the car and the driver closed the door. “You came to get me?”
“How did it go?” He swept my hair from my eyes as if he wanted to see me better and I bit down on my bottom lip in order to hold back my grin at the unexpected contact.
“You never have a driver in London.”
He cleared his throat as if he were reminding himself that we were meant to be discussing business. “That’s because in London, cabs are more comfortable and can use bus lanes, and the tube has better coverage. Do I have to ask you a second time about how the meeting went?”
“Apparently,” I said with a shrug. “There’s good news and bad news. I think he liked me. We had chemistry. I think he liked my ideas for Verity, Inc.—”
“Your ideas?”
“Yeah, I thought he might ask about my plans, so I’d worked up an answer around subscription models. Anyway, after I told him that, he ordered champagne and told me he thought we could do business together. He wants to think about things and have another meeting.”
Oh shit. I was meant to have lunch with Des on Sunday. If I stayed in New York, I’d have to cancel. The entire reason I was in London and had this job was so I could do things like have lunch with my father on the weekend.
“What’s the catch, Sofia?”
It was just one lunch. This Verity deal needed to get done. I’d reschedule with Des—and I’d get to see my mom.
“There’s always a catch. He wants our next meeting to be breakfast on Monday. Right here in Manhattan. But I can stay,” I hurried to add, heading off any objections. “You don’t have to. I can get a late flight back to London and be back behind my desk Tuesday morning.”
“That’s not a catch.”
“But you hadn’t planned on me staying in New York for the weekend.”
“It’s no big deal. And I’m not flying back without you. This is important. I’m by your side every step of the way.” He glanced at me and then out the window, as if he’d said too much. I knew Verity was his deal, and it was in his interest for my meetings with Bob to go well, but I couldn’t help enjoying the feeling of loyalty and support he gave me. The yang to my yin.
Twenty-Six
Sofia
Being in New York with a few dollars in my purse was a new feeling—one I could get used to. I stepped out of Andrew’s limo in my almost-too-tight red cocktail dress and the black velvet coat my mom had kept since college. I headed toward the restaurant entrance where I was meeting Natalie. There were definite upsides to staying in New York for the weekend; I’d get to spend tonight with Natalie and tomorrow night with my mom, who told me in no uncertain terms that Friday was her book club night, and she wasn’t cancelling if I was going to be here for the whole weekend.
“Sofia?” a familiar voice from down the street called.
I turned to find Natalie hurrying toward me. She glanced at the car I’d just stepped out of and then back at me.
“Who brought you?”
“Just Andrew’s car service. Apparently he hates New York cabs.”
“What a snob.”
I wasn’t sure snob was the right word. If Andrew was really a snob, he’d have a driver in London. Plus, he was right about our cabs.
“I’m surprised he let you use his car.”
I shrugged and Natalie gave the hostess our name. When we were seated, we ordered our cocktails and I grabbed Natalie’s hand across the table. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me too. Tell me everything. Why are you even here?”
How was I going to explain that I was pretending to be a buyer of a company Andrew wanted to acquire? “Andrew has some meetings. I’m just here . . . you know, assisting.”
“Wow,” she said. “I’m not sure if that’s a perk or not. I can’t imagine how awful he is to travel with.”
“Yeah, he didn’t say much on the way over.” I laughed. “Just a few grunts here and there when absolutely necessary.”
The waitress arrived with our cocktails and we placed our dinner order. Two meals out in one day, along with champagne and cocktails . . . Whose life was I living?
“That guy is the rudest asshole I’ve ever met,” Natalie said. I’d been hoping our drinks arrival would have changed the subject. I didn’t want to talk about Andrew being an asshole because he wasn’t. He was curt and sharp in the office, but now I knew a different side of him. “Any other jobs on the horizon?”
Truth was, I hadn’t been looking. The job at Blake Enterprises was a challenge, but I’d dealt with worse. “Andrew’s not that bad.” She gave me a disbelieving look. “And anyway, the money’s good.”
“You don’t mind that he’s so rude?”
I shrugged. “It’s not personal. He’s not everyone else’s chatty best friend except for me. It’s just . . . how he’s made.”
“Oh, so because he’s an asshole to everyone, that’s alright?”
“He’s just focused and knows what he wants.”
Natalie rolled her eyes and took a sip of her cocktail. “Does he still bite your head off if you disturb him before lunch?”
Not last time, when I’d had the call from Goode’s lawyers. “I just leave him to it.”
“What is he doing in there? I saw his inbox—he’s not spending all morning answering his messages. Maybe he’s watching porn.”
Andrew wasn’t that guy, although I still wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing behind his office door every morning. Now that I knew him better, there were things that made more sense, like the lack of communication—he just liked to be efficient and didn’t see the point in small talk. But there were a number of things that didn’t: the way he shut himself away in his office every morning . . . and I still didn’t know why exactly the barman knew him as James.
Natalie was being ridiculous. “You make him sound like a monster. He’s not that bad. He gave me a job when he didn’t have to.”