The Note

by Natalie Wrye

  “I’ll give you that, too. I just don’t understand why you care so much.”

  “I’m your lawyer and I thought your best friend…” Her dark brown eyes burn as they gaze at me. “It’s my job to make sure you’re always working in your best interests.”

  “Coming from the woman who thinks I belong at the local pound.”

  “It’s also my job to make sure you’re always working in the company’s best interests.”

  I continue walking. “I always am.” I round the desk, never breaking eye contact. “In case you didn’t know, that was bark-talk for ‘I wouldn’t worry so much.’”

  I finally slow just a foot from Cynthia. I can see her breathing pick up, her chest rising and falling as she stares at me on my way out of my personal office. I hear her voice over my shoulder.

  “Would you worry if you knew who Sophia Somerset really was?”

  I lean right back, my chin coming closer across the space. My stare thins.

  Her eyes suddenly shine with tears unshed, her gaze glossy. Her shoulders pull pin-straight, and within seconds, I watch the tough girl act I’m used to crack at the seams.

  Just a little bit.

  She sniffs. And suddenly those unshed tears aren’t there.

  Anger replaces the momentary glaze of hurt, and I have the quick urge to reach for it back, to summon up the emotion I almost believe I imagined.

  But then Cynthia opens her mouth.

  “Remember that mobster who promised to testify against Chris Jackson in the murder case for parole, Vittorio Sollecito? Well, Vittorio,” she emphasis, “is much more than a parolee, trying to cut a deal by turning in the fraudulent financier. Vittorio’s an Italian immigrant.”

  “Thanks for the Homeland Security history lesson, Cyn.”

  “And a father of two.”

  “Again, thanks for the school lesson, Professor Stratford. May I go now?”

  “And before he went to prison, he changed his family name—and the names of his daughter and son—from Sollecito…to Somerset.” Cynthia glares at me even harder.

  “Does that ring any bells?”

  She holds a finger in the air, her hips swaying ever so slightly as she does. I try not to stare.

  “Do you hear what I’m saying, Noah? I did my research. I know for a certainty now…” She hesitates, her brown eyes turning molten. They blaze a path of fire at me. “Sophia—the woman you’ve seem to grown so serious about—is the daughter of one of Chris Jackson’s closest partners in crime.”

  She exhales. “Your girlfriend’s father is the man who might make or break the future of this company.”

  Turning on her heel before I can ask another question, Cyn flings my door open again, stepping out.

  She leaves me there, standing, slowly sinking to perch on the edge of my desk to catch my bearings. All with nothing but another crack on that damned thin ice to keep me company.

  Chapter 17

  SOPHIA

  Friday night

  This coffee isn’t working fast enough. And I’m not sure my legs are either.

  I’ve served every table I can think of, poured enough icy cocktails to drown a small city, and still, it’s as if I’ve barely made a dent in my afternoon shift.

  A soft snowy evening begins to fall over The Alchemist’s large windows, bringing the Happy Hour crowd with it, and within minutes I’m serving every colorful icy concoction our bartenders can make.

  Won’t be too many of those. I’m off my shift in thirty minutes.

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, I swallow as I watch the minutes tick down. Heading back to the bar top, I dispense of my now empty tray, and my stomach is still churning when Nancy makes an appearance from the back office, her strawberry blonde bob swaying as she comes to stand in front of me, one eyebrow cocked really high.

  Her green eyes peruse my shifting frame as she leans against the wooden bar.

  “Are you ready for your weekend off?” She asks.

  “If by ready, you mean currently pissing in my pants, then yup, I’m as ready as I will ever be…and on the verge of packing Depends™.”

  She grins. “There’s nothing wrong with spending a weekend in Connecticut for a wedding.”

  “If it helps, it’s the rich, over-the-top, blue blood Connecticuters that I’ll have to meet that is the part that scares me. Not the actual wedding.”

  Nancy’s mouth twists, her emerald green eyes going bright. “You sure it’s not the new boyfriend part that’s scaring you most? Because if I had a man who looked at me the way that Noah looks at you, I might be in need of a pair of a Depends™.” She holds up her hands in acquiescence. “I’m just saying…”

  I guess she has a point.

  I haven’t been on a date in longer then I can remember, the constant need to work to make the rent squeezing out any possibility of a social life left.

  I’ve been working so much I’d forgotten what a date looks like.

  Struggling to make the rent in New York when you were surviving off filling drinks, taking orders and making tips didn’t provide much of a social life.

  At least when drunken Wall Street bankers wandered in here from whatever hole in the wall they just exited, you knew they’d done it with one half of their hundreds still in some exotic dancer’s crotch.

  But with me?

  I hadn’t quite yet learned the art of being social with people, being nice to them…or even accepting their help.

  And seriously, what could I expect?

  With a mother who’d run off in the middle of the night and a father who was a felon, life was, for lack of a better term, rough as kid.

  Living with Aunt Roberta after had been a hell of a lot better but we’d barely made ends meet during those tough years, and we’d scraped and scrambled and scrounged for every penny we could find.

  It was no surprise, I guess, that my circumstances haven’t exactly changed. And I’m still thinking about them when Nancy snaps fingers in my face, bringing me back to the present.

  “Earth to Soph. Come back, Soph.” She glances up at the clock. “It’s officially seven o’clock. You’re off your shift.”

  “Sorry.” I apologize with a small snort. “Only I would start daydreaming in the middle of talking to my boss.”

  Nancy laughs. “Soph, I know you well by now. You’re not just one of my employees. You’re also a total spaz.” She pauses for the shortest of seconds. “But you’re my spaz. And one of my closest friends.” She takes a weighty breath. “I’m just glad you decided to take the weekend off. I’m happy you’re here, that you’re dedicated to the job…” She trails off. “But sometimes, I wish you would realize how much you don’t need to be.”

  And just as she opens her mouth to say something else, someone grabs her attention, pulling Nancy away.

  I gaze after her, reminding myself that the strawberry blonde pixie is the meshing, the glue that keeps this bar together in the face of so many disasters.

  A powerhouse who’d taken over in her co-owner’s absence, while the second location of The Alchemist opened in Chicago, Nancy was busy improving the first.

  But this wasn’t the first time she’d made a comment about my position here at The Alchemist, and I was starting to doubt that the job I’d been doing would be enough.

  My table side manner wasn’t the best in the bar. I usually looked a mess.

  My attitude had left much to be desired after my beloved roommate left only months after moving in. Opting to live in Chicago with her fiancé (and co-owner of The Alchemist) Deacon, Kayla had left me in Manhattan minus one great friend.

  And alone.

  But as I venture behind the bar to grab a few items for the weekend away, I realize I’m not as alone as I’d thought.

  Heading for the dimly lit Employee Only room, I open my assigned metal locker only to find my heart diving out from between my ribs when I crack the creaking paint-chipped box to shove my Alchemist apron inside, closing it quickly to find a set of
blue eyes locked on mine.

  I have to keep myself from jumping. I sigh.

  “Drew…goddammit.”

  My next door neighbor and coworker grins. “Sorry about that. Did I scare ya?”

  “No, not at all. I’m used to wetting myself when strange men appear out of dark corners in the back of the bar where we work. Yes, you freaking scared me.” I glance around the rest of the darkened room, the deep green walls seemingly closing in on us as I hiss. “What are you doing here? You’re not on shift.”

  “Well, I left an extra box of condoms here last night. This morning I ran out.”

  “Shocker.”

  “I was going to bite the bullet, you know. Buy another box? But then I heard that Nancy was in and out today and I figured it would a great time to grab them before the Hell-Beast came back here.”

  “Hell-beast?” I shut the door to my locker, turning on Drew. “Now it’s this? The insults. The arguing. I don’t get it,” I hiss.

  “Me neither.” Drew bites his lips. “I still blame the stick up her nether-regions.”

  “Well, I wasn’t exactly talking about that, but you would know about ‘sticks in nether-regions,’ being an expert at ‘stick-giving’ from what I hear all the way across the hall…”

  He pauses. “Did you just pay me a compliment, Fee?”

  “More like an observation. A very disturbing observation.” I shudder. “But don’t get used to it. I’ll be back to telling you to kiss my ass by morning.”

  “Duly noted.”

  I slap his arm, sending Drew on his way. His low laughter still reaches me from the other side of the room, as he turns, catching my ear, his subsequent words stopping me in my tracks in seconds.

  “So, I snuck in the back door about five minutes ago. And noticed that someone was lurking back there.”

  I lift a brow. “You sure it wasn’t one of the women you used those on? Or have you lost count?” I nod at the Trojan box in his hands, and he smiles, shifting on his feet.

  “No, I’d never let a woman know where I work. What do you take me for? An amateur?”

  I glance at the box. “Who could? Gauging by the size of those condoms.”

  He continues with a smirk. “Exactly… Besides, Fee, this wasn’t a female someone hanging out in the back lot. This was a male someone. A very curious male someone.”

  I clamp the lock on my metal locker with a click, pulling to make sure it’s secure. I start to head towards the front of the restaurant, no longer in the mood for this conversation, my exhaustion settling into my skin and bones as I walk away from Drew without another glance.

  “Sounds interesting,” I toss over my shoulder on my way out.

  “It sure was,” Drew talks at my back as I walk away. “Especially when he asked about you.”

  My feet jerk suddenly to a stop, skidding across the cracked tile beneath my feet.

  I spin to see Drew still standing there, still leaning beside my locker. The small crescent moon shape of his lips only makes me madder as I pivot on my heel, heading back in his direction, my heart thumping wildly when I reach him.

  He’s enjoying the suspense. The crazy fucker.

  “Okay, Drew, now you know I love you like a brother…”

  He nods. “I do.”

  “A very annoying, very arrogant older brother. But listen to me…” I inch closer, tilting my five-foot-six height up to his six-foot face. “I will stab you with one of our plastic takeout forks, if you don’t start talking. I’m not very good with suspense.”

  Drew shrugs, his casual t-shirt spreading over his muscular chest. He exhales soundly. “As much fun as being attacked with plastic sounds, I’d have to say: I’m willing to give up the goods. Especially now that I know you’re seeing someone…”

  My brow furrows. “What?”

  Drew leans in. “And you were almost successful at hiding it.” He folds his bulging forearms, the tattoos on his skin straining against the muscle, his dark hair mussed. “Who knew that Sophia Somerset was hiding a boyfriend? Especially the suited type. And here I thought you’d get married to your vibrator, and we’d all have to throw batteries at your wedding instead of rice, just to make sure the matrimony lasted past the first few buzzes.”

  I nearly growl. “That threat I made still stands. Keep talking, Drew…”

  “But you can relax for now. The guy out there wasn’t your boyfriend who showed up two days ago at the bar. This suit was someone else. And he was loitering behind the building, asking if I knew if you were here.” I wait for him to respond, moisture peppering the space just above my brows, suspense keeping me rooted to the spot as Drew draws out the longest story in the history of mankind, a smile screwed on his handsome face. He inclines closer, dropping his deep voice to a whisper. “I said you weren’t.”

  “Good,” I answer, letting a long breath out. “Because you know just as well as I do that Noah is not my damned boyfriend, I probably will marry my vibrator, and whoever that was that was looking for me probably wanted more than a date.”

  Drew breaks out into a sloppy grin. “Ah, so the boyfriend does have a name. Noah. As in ‘from the Ark.’”

  “No, as in ‘I’ll poke holes in your Trojans if you ever bring up his name again.’” I hesitate. “Now, let’s focus on the guy behind the bar. Did he happen to tell you who he was?”

  Drew lifts a shoulder while shaking his head. Killing any hope that he might have gotten anything useful from the conversation with the suited stranger, he lets the shoulder drop with a snort.

  “Haven’t got a fucking clue. Just thought I should warn you before leaving. This guy looked like the lawyer type. And if it were me,” he chucks a thumb at his chest, “I’d be thinking about all the things I did to make some ambulance-chaser show up to my place of work.” He bows at the waist, his duty now done. He winks before I can say another word.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an off-day to enjoy and a box of reasons to enjoy it.” He pats his pack of Trojans.

  He nudges me with an assuring shoulder, and in his absence, all I can do is wonder about what I’ve done this time to warrant a stranger in a suit coming to my place of work to see me.

  Honestly?

  I’ve had enough “suits” to last for a lifetime. But I can’t focus on those. Despite already packing a few items, I did have to head home and get changed.

  My “non-boyfriend” was on his way to pick me up.

  Chapter 18

  NOAH

  The inside of my mind is like the city, crazy and crowded, when Caesar pulls to the curb outside of Sophia Somerset’s small Manhattan apartment’s double doors.

  The ride to Connecticut is only an hour. But like everything surrounding Jase’s wedding to Mindy, my older brother would like to do it in style.

  I sit in the back of one of the black limousines he’s ordered, waiting for Sophia to show.

  As the December weather nears the middle of the month, the wind and cold pick up outside the car windows. Fairy lights have already started to appear around the city, shoppers with early holiday bags.

  In a set of gray sweats and a t-shirt, I feel comfortably not out of my suited element. That is, until I look up and see my unwilling wedding date standing outside her apartment’s front double doors, a frown on her pretty face as she shimmies down the small front stairs in a pair of glittery sky-high heels.

  Rocking a gold sequined cocktail dress on her curvy frame, she starts to saunter up to the limo doors, and I get out immediately, my chest tightening as my eyes take in her figure.

  Opening the back door for her without a word, I remind myself that I’m crazy to be so damned attracted to this woman.

  But it’s hard when she’s gazing at me like that on the windy street, her hazel eyes hot. A few tendrils from the messy updo framing her gorgeous face and even amidst the evening chill, my skin heats, heart thumping as she nears, her lilac fragrance filling the air around me.

  I wet my bottom lip as my mouth goes
dry.

  “So, is this how we’re heading to Connecticut?”

  I nod. “This is how we’re heading to Connecticut.”

  And with that she flounces in the limousine. A grim look decorates the space on her pretty face as she settles in, and with a quick tap to the limousine hood, I sit beside Sophia as we head to my brother Jase’s wedding welcome party.

  A mere five days away from when our debt on the Luxe building is due, I glance over at my annoyingly gorgeous wedding date, also known as my solution to keeping my brothers in the dark long enough for me to fix this.

  And the stunningly beautiful answer to my problems sits quietly there, her whispering voice almost drowned out by Sinatra over the stereo, the sounds of “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” drifting over the elongated backseats.

  I listen to her speak.

  “You know for a second in that Scottish bar, I almost thought your request was serious. You certainly sounded like it.” She crosses her bare legs under a shimmering gold number. “You’re surprisingly a good liar.”

  I take another swig from the coffee I’ve stashed in a nearby cup holder, letting the dark liquid soothe my tongue. I sigh. “Just trying to keep up with you, my dear. I’ve decided to take notes from the best.”

  “I wouldn’t talk about ‘notes’ while we’re at it. Seeing as how you were the one who was blackmailing me with one.”

  “The one who’s still blackmailing you with one, if you haven’t forgotten.”

  Sophia stammers beside me, her confusion tangible. She turns, her gold cocktail dress shimmering under the dull city lights, and I look away. I have to.

  “But-but I thought that since we’ve been working together…”

  “Our terms haven’t changed, Miss Somerset,” I retort. “I still don’t have my watch.” I glance down at my phone. “By the way, I looked over the tapes after work today. Found the guy who bought it in a uniform. A Benny’s Pizza uniform, it said on the front.”