by Jennifer Ann
I nod, grateful for the distraction.
I’ve nearly finished the second shot of black coffee by the time my wettest fantasy—hell, probably any straight American male’s fantasy—returns from the bathroom. Sofia has made a complete transformation in skin-tight designer jeans, a black T-shirt with a silhouette of David Bowie, and white Converse tennis shoes. Paired with the way her blonde waves tumble down around her shoulders, I’m rendered speechless.
She was fairly casual the day I showed her around the city and again on Sunday-Funday, but to see her dressed as if on her way to a rock concert? It’s a visual I won’t be able to shake for years to come. And come again. My Adam’s apple stubbornly refuses to move when I try to swallow.
“This is something Evelyn would wear,” she tells me. “I feel utterly ridiculous. Do I look ridiculous?” Slipping her bottom lip between her teeth, she glances around as if waiting for someone to burst out laughing.
“You look great,” I say in a sincere tone. Understatement of the year. Standing, I swipe the bag now containing her work clothes from her hand and motion toward the door. “We better get going if we want to visit Grams. She’s usually in bed by eight.”
Still appearing unsure of her appearance, she pauses a moment before following me to the Tesla waiting a few stalls down by the curb. I stop to hold the key fob out in front of me. “Want to take it for another spin, hotshot?”
With another brilliant smile lighting her beautiful face, she swipes the fob and skips to the driver’s side. I groan when I remember how sexy she looked behind the wheel last time she drove.
I need to make it my number-fucking-one priority to fix this mess with Avery.
After a mostly pleasant visit with Grams in which she seems to understand that I’m her grandson but still thinks Sofia is her son’s fiancée, we head back to my apartment. Once again, Sofia becomes animated after the visit as she rehashes the conversations with Grams, making me second-guess the plan to spend the rest of the night alone with her.
Spending time with Sofia seems so effortless. It literally pains me to have a conversation with Avery. And it feels ridiculously good to play hooky from the bar for a change. Almost good enough to want to do it again as long as it’s with Sofia.
“You’ve been exceptionally quiet since we left Leona,” she tells me as we’re digging into the pizza and beer delivered just minutes after we arrived. Her blue eyes study me with uncertainty, as if she wants to ask if I’m okay. “Is it just because I can’t seem to shut up?”
“I like it when you talk about her,” I blurt, throwing the biggest slice of Hawaiian on my plate. Running a hand over my beard, I decide to lie about what’s on my mind. I doubt she can deal with the fact that I’m wondering how to keep her around as much as possible without giving into the desire to sexually maul her. “I’m just…concerned…about the bar. There’s a fairly popular band tonight, so the place will be packed, and Hope has never run it by herself on a big night.”
“Hope’s the pretty blonde who was working the night I was there?” she asks with a mouthful of pizza.
Holding a finger over my mouth and clearing my throat in an attempt to stop myself from laughing at how little fucks she has to give, I nod. It’s refreshing to be around someone who can act professional when called for, and completely let loose when she’s kicking it back on my couch. “She’s my manager.”
Sofia’s eyes widen as she’s taking a chug of her imported beer. “Wait. Were you supposed to be there with her tonight?”
Behind my bottle of beer, I shrug. “I’m sure she’s capable of keeping things running smoothly on her own.”
“I love Leona’s! We can stop by when we’re done eating if it’d put your mind at ease.” Sinking her teeth into her slice of pizza, she adds with another mouthful, “I don’t mind. At all.”
Jesus, is this woman for real? No matter how many times I had begged Avery to visit my grandma with me, she always came up with some excuse, and she was constantly trying to drag me away from work.
I study her relaxed expression, wondering what cloud she fell from. “Are you sure it’s alright?”
“Are you kidding me? I could use a night of dancing after an exhausting week. I bet Sharlo and Evelyn would meet us up there with the guys if we called them. It’d be fun!”
When I consider the alternative, being alone with her when she looks like one of the poster girls I’d beat off to as a teenager, the choice is as clear as fucking crystal.
Everyone meets up at Leona’s two hours later, and we again run into my Recon brother, Theo, with his wife and her blonde friend. Those of us who aren’t pregnant end up shit-faced along with hundreds of customers jamming to the popular 90s tribute band that I spent a year trying to sign. I’m in awe seeing another side of Sofia I never would’ve guessed existed as she dances the night away alongside the women, even banging her head at one point. When Evelyn confesses to me in private that she’s never seen her sister let loose to this extent, I attempt to take credit for buying the outfit that put her at ease. Evelyn just hits my shoulder and laughs like I’m an idiot.
After parting ways with Theo and his crew, Charlie and Evelyn walk home as the rest of us hitch a ride with Sharlo back to their place. Long after James and Sharlo are sleeping, Sofia and I hang out on the patio outside their bedroom, attempting to be as quiet as humanly possible after drinking as much as we did. Despite being pretty hammered and not quite seeing everything clearly, I didn’t miss the satisfied smirk my best friend threw our way before she called it a night.
Over a bottle of Shar’s favorite white wine, Sofia and I sit side-by-side on the lounging chairs under separate blankets, our breaths huffing into the black sky as we take in the spectacular view of Brooklyn Bridge and the skyscrapers on Manhattan twinkling in the distance. For the first time since James bought the place, I’m jealous-as-shit of the quaint little house and its killer location. If I’m being honest, it’s more about the fact that Sharlo and James found each other and have already started creating a little family.
“I could spend the rest of forever right here, in this very spot,” Sofia whispers before taking a swig from the bottle. “I mean, I love your apartment, but I don’t get why you don’t find something over here. I mean, look at this view! It’s fucking gorgeous. And it just makes sense for you to live here with the bar and everything, ya know?”
Grunting in agreement, I steal the bottle from her hands and take a long pull, welcoming the warm glow that slides down my throat. It intensifies the awesome buzz I get from being around Sofia. When my mind wanders, wondering how much more the feeling would intensify if I were to bury my dick in her soft warmth, I take another round of gulps.
“Hey, don’t hog it all!” Sofia scolds, swiping it back. When her lips suck on the glass opening, then break the seal with a loud pop, my pants strain like I’ve heard the fucking Bat signal and my dick is the Dark Knight.
“I’m glad you moved here,” I blurt, having lost any kind of filter hours ago.
“M-e too,” she says with a cute-as-hell hiccup. “You guys have all made the move so much e-asier than I thought it’d be.”
There’s a long, comfortable silence between us. Then I say, “I like hanging out with you, counselor.” Then I quickly add, “As friends.”
“I like hanging out with yo-u, too, playboy,” she hiccups. “As fri-ends.”
“We should do it more often.”
“Def-initely.”
Deciding she’s had too much to drink and needs to sleep it off, I escort her to the guest room and give her Tylenol with water before tucking her in. After finishing the bottle of wine and fantasizing what it would be like if Sofia was my girl, I pass out on the couch downstairs.
The second week Avery is gone, Sofia and I spend an increased amount of time hanging out whenever we can fit each other in. Saturday we visit Grams before grabbing dinner at a little Italian place off Broadway and catching a comedy show, then closing the night with a few cockt
ails. We apartment shop for her Sunday morning and visit Grams again in the afternoon before meeting everyone for Sunday-Funday at Sharlo’s. Once again, the two of us spend time alone on the rooftop patio before I crash on the couch.
Just as with the work week before, she’s slammed at the office, and I’m busy training James, but we still manage to sneak in a few nights during that involve late dinners in the city. The realtor Sofia’s been working with found a few available places, but they were above her price range and not in favorable locations. Somehow I’m able to convince Sofia to pack a bag and take the spare bedroom in my apartment, insisting she can’t travel back to Brooklyn so late by herself. I want to kick my own ass when I catch her in the hallway one morning with messy hair and an oversized sweatshirt as her pajamas. A guy can only resist so much temptation, and I’m nearing my limit.
By the next weekend we’re so accustomed to spending all our free time together that our plans naturally fall into place on their own. It’s more of the same visits to Grams, hanging at Leona’s with the same crew as the weekend before, and Sunday-Funday, but I could never get enough.
Every minute we’re together, it’s undeniable that I’m falling for her in a way that can’t be undone, no matter the fucked-up circumstances. Every morning I wake anxious to see her again. Every night my head hits the pillow, I’m counting the hours until we’ll be together. Whether or not she sees me as anything more than a friend isn’t exactly clear, though I catch something in her gaze every now and then that can easily be interpreted as longing and she texts me just as much as I reach out to her.
As many times as I’ve called Avery to confirm that we’re through without receiving any kind of response in return, I’ve given up on trying. I promise myself I won’t try anything with Sofia until I’ve had a chance to tell Avery in person. I owe it to everyone involved in this mess. Even if Avery doesn’t necessarily deserve my kindness, it’s the right thing to do.
Sometime the following Monday night, I wake with the sound of my phone ringing. I blindly swat at my nightstand in the darkness until I find it, answering without bothering to glance at the screen.
“Yeah?”
“What the actual fuck, Nolan?” Avery spits out.
“Jesus, Avery. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for weeks. Why are you calling now? It’s the middle of the fucking night.”
“Daddy says you hired your own attorney.”
“I’m protecting my own ass,” I grumble, scrubbing a hand across my eyes. It’s been at least a week since I spoke to her father about hiring Sofia, and he wasn’t all that upset with the news so long as he still got his share. Why is this conversation happening now? “Was it really necessary to wake me for this discussion?”
“Are you trying to find a way around what I told you at the airport?”
“What if I am? I told you we’re done. Why are you so insistent on making this thing with us happen? I don’t want to marry you, Avery. You’re nothing like the woman I thought you were the first time we met. And after you revealed your true colors, I realized we’re not right for each other. Why can’t you accept that and move the fuck on?”
“Because Daddy gave me until my next birthday to become committed to a man, or he’s cutting me off!” she snarls. “We both know I can’t afford the lifestyle I’m accustomed to by being someone’s fucking assistant!”
Motherfucker.
No wonder she’s so desperate for me to stay. I press my pointer finger and thumb against my temples, feeling the onset of a headache. Her own father doesn’t want to be stuck taking care of her spoiled ass forever.
“I didn’t want to marry you before, and I’m definitely not marrying you now just so you can continue buying thousand dollar designer shoes and handbags,” I tell her. “Find some other sucker to be your ATM. I’m done, Avery. I’m not interested in spending any more time with you.”
“Do I have to remind you the kind of power Daddy has as one of the country’s biggest real estate moguls? He’ll kill the deal and make damn sure you don’t do business in Vegas with anyone. Your precious vision to recreate your grandma’s style or whatever the fuck it is you’re trying to do will be dead in the water.”
“Do you hear yourself?” I ask, squeezing my phone until the bones in my fingers ache in protest. “What you’re threatening to do is completely ludicrous. Why don’t you seduce some rich Italian man into becoming your sugar daddy while you’re over there? Why do you find it necessary to blackmail me?”
“Because I had a private investigator look into your financial portfolio a few months back,” she sings in a tone that makes it obvious there’s a sneer stretched across her face. “I know you’re worth way more than you’re letting on. It’d be the biggest mistake of my life to let you go. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this happen.”
Heat sears through my body until it feels like my head is ready to explode. I’m finished worrying about her threats. As much as I want to make the casino happen, it’s not worth carrying out a lifetime sentence with this crazy bitch. Who knows what else she’s capable of doing to get her way?
“The biggest mistake of your life will be if you try to force me into marrying you. Your father may be powerful, but you forget I have ties of my own in Vegas. My family’s name brought billions of dollars to that city. I don’t need your father to carry out this deal. I’m done with your psychotic games, Avery. It’s over. We’re finished.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re going to wish you had never said that,” she replies before ending the call.
Son of a bitch.
I toss my phone across the room.
I’m done playing her fucking games. I refuse to let her get in the way of what I want any longer.
Chapter 8
SOFIA
Things shifted in our relationship the day Nolan surprised me with Chucks and a Bowie shirt. No one had ever done anything so sweet and thoughtful for me. It’s almost as if I’ve become addicted to the idea of spending time with him because I can never seem to get enough. It’s so wrong to be spending time alone with him, not only because of my job, but because he has a girlfriend. Still, I can’t seem to help myself. But we end up spending a majority of the weekends with my family, forcing me to keep my feelings in check.
Besides, it’s not all about him. We’ve visited Leona half-a-dozen times since I arrived in the city, and I’m enchanted by her young spirit. I could sit for hours, listening to her spin tales of her interactions with the rich and famous. At times it’s obvious she’s confusing herself with the order in which things happened or people’s names, but I love the way she lights up and absolutely adore the way Nolan seems at peace, knowing she still possesses a good chunk of her memories.
But since I started spending more time at Nolan’s apartment where we’ve become pros at not worrying about appearances, he’s been stopping to introduce me to each of his favorite hangout spots as well as the people running them. I’m charmed by the area and its inhabitants, though I’m still particularly fond of Brooklyn Heights and don’t hate the idea of commuting nearly as much as Nolan seems to.
I have no doubt my attraction to Nolan will always be strong. I keep telling myself that maybe if one night I hooked up with some random guy to satisfy the urges Nolan never fails to create, I wouldn’t be quite as attracted to him.
Yeah right.
With the sound of a brisk knock on my office door early Tuesday morning, I scurry to sit behind my desk and sink into the leather chair before clearing my throat and announcing, “Come in.”
Miranda, my secretary, stands in the doorway, blinking rapidly behind her thick black glasses. Her sleek, dark hair hangs in her eyes, giving the illusion that she’s painfully young—she could even pass for someone in high school though she’s here during school hours so I know that can’t be the case. I haven’t spent enough time with her to get a good feel of her mannerisms outside of the unique dresses she wears, like today’s Star Wars print so subtle that I do
ubt the partners would catch on, but I get the feeling she’s not excited about working for me. Either that or she doesn’t have much of a personality.
“Sorry to disturb you without buzzing in first, Miss Kendall,” she says, cutting a glance to my somewhat messy desk, “but Mr. Zimmerman is here to see you. He insisted—”
Nolan steps in at her side, flashing a charming smile that doesn’t quite reach his darkened gaze. Though he’s wearing a suit coat and slacks that make him irresistibly handsome to any woman with a pulse, I’ve trained my body not to visibly react when in his presence. Yet I never fail to feel a rush of excitement in the pit of my stomach whenever he’s near.
“Hey, there,” he greets me, lifting one lone eyebrow. “Got a minute?”
“It’s fine,” I tell Miranda, standing and spreading my fingers on the desk. “Thank you for bringing him back to see me. I’ll take it from here.”
Miranda gives Nolan a tentative glance before turning on her heels and disappearing from sight. Again, I can’t decide if she’s pissed that I’m her new boss or if she really doesn’t have much of a personality.
Entering the room, Nolan chuckles before shutting the door behind him. “You two seem to be getting along well.”
“I’m hoping she’s just shy,” I say, rolling my eyes.
His eyes move around the room. “Nice office. The partners must think highly of you.”
“It has its perks,” I say, pulling my suit jacket taut as I sit once again. For the first time since we reunited at Leona’s, I’m incredibly nervous. Intimidated, even. It must be his expensive suit. “Go ahead and have a seat. What brings you here?”
When he plops down into a chair on the other side of my desk, his face crumbles with worry. In that moment I realize his eyes are bloodshot and his hair is as messy as it is the nights we “bum it” as he calls our nights hanging in his apartment.