Page 57 of Bidding War

“Do you think it’s possible Andre did this to drive a wedge between us? That kidnapping you wasn’t enough? That the real way to get under Dad’s skin would be to have you on his staff?”

She pauses, her brows creased in confusion. “You think Andre is doing this to annoy your dad?”

“Why else would he?”

She sets her coffee mug down and carefully places her palms on the table as if trying not to do something else. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“What’s it?”

“You tell me I’m smart, then you tell me the only reason Andre would hire me is your dad? In your mind, it couldn’t be because I am good at my job, right?”

Fuck. Abort! Abort! “I so did not mean it that way, and you know it. You know I think the world of you?—"

“As your girlfriend, sure. But as a lawyer … ?” She shakes her head. Her words are calm and measured, and it’s disturbing because I can tell just how pissed off she is right now. Internally, she’s nuclear. Externally, she’s a solid block of ice. It is disconcerting. She says, “I don’t know what you think of me professionally. But that little slip says volumes.”

How the fuck do I dig out of this hole? Think fast. “Back in school, you were the best. At everything. It was grating how good you were. How you were always at the top of the class, always the know-it-all. I might not know how you are at your job these days, June, but I still remember the girl who always kicked my ass in class. I don’t doubt you’re still that girl in the office.”

Her expression loosens. No more gripping things, no more grinding her teeth when I speak. Thank fuck, it worked. “Good. Then you know Andre wants me for my brains and not for upsetting your father.”

Oh my god. This conversation is going nowhere. “Exactly why couldn’t he want you for both of those things?”

A faint light of recognition flashes in her eyes. “Andre wants me for my brains. Me taking the job? That’s to upset your father. And to pay my bills. Really, it’s a win-win all the way around.”

I cannot believe her right now. “You’re seriously thinking about taking the job, aren’t you? This hasn’t been some hypothetical, has it?”

“I’m still undecided.”

But I hear it in her voice. She’s made the decision. Un-fucking-believable. “Why did you tell me any of this? And I want the real reason this time.”

“You’re my boyfriend.”

“What kind of boyfriend can’t at least voice his opinion when he sees his girlfriend doing things that will damage her psyche?”

“The kind of boyfriend who is using that flimsy excuse to get her to do whatever he wants when, really, he’s just using it as a smokescreen for his personal reasons.”

My head drops into my hands, and I’m unsure how to maintain my composure. I stretch my neck, crack my knuckles, and attempt to make eye contact with the woman currently driving me up the fucking wall. It doesn’t help that she looks sexy as fuck when she thinks she’s winning an argument. Hell, that was half the reason I was happy when I heard she was going into law as a profession. I knew she would walk around being extra sexy all day long, probably in one of those tight skirt suits and high heels. Maybe some silk stockings, too. Her hair up in a tight bun, just begging to be unleashed, and dammit, I’m getting sidetracked.

I have one more trick up my sleeve. “You’re right.”

At that, she looks baffled. “I don’t follow you.”

“Isn’t that what you want to hear? You’re right. I’m wrong.”

“What is this?” She’s too intelligent not to be suspicious. “What am I right about?”

“I have personal reasons for wanting you not to work for Andre. It’s true. In fact, all my reasons are personal.” I take her hands in mine, and to my surprise, she doesn’t jerk away. “My reasons are personal because they are all about you, and you are my person. I hate Andre for what he did to you. I won’t apologize for that. He stole you away in the night. He terrified you.” I whisper, “You saw what I did to the man who put his hand on your throat. Imagine what I would do to the man who stole you from me?”

She doesn’t speak. She merely stares up at me, mystified.

I clear my throat and go on, “If I had the chance, June, Andre would never see the light of day ever again. And now, I’m looking at possible office holiday parties with that man. So, no, I don’t want you to work for him, and yes, it is personal. I won’t pretend otherwise. And on top of everything else, I firmly believe this is not good for your mental health. That is personal to me too. I will always look out for you even when you don’t want me to. Together, not together, it doesn’t matter to me. You matter to me. You are my person, and everything that happens to you is personal to me.”

Her eyes glisten in the neon lights of the diner, and as much as I hate seeing her cry, I feel triumphant. I’ve finally gotten through to her. Thank god. Slowly, she pulls away and drinks her coffee. Relief washes through me, and I can breathe again. Then she utters, “I am out of options, Anderson. I’m taking the job.”

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32

JUNE

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