Page 36 of Promise Me Forever

I walk over to the shattered glass and pick up the biggest shards. I’ll have to apologize to housekeeping. And order a few bottles of Scotch. I’ve been hitting it pretty hard recently.

Sitting down behind my desk, I scrub my face with my hands and wish for clarity. I need to focus on work, and to do that, I need to chase her away, get her out of my head. Itcertainly doesn’t help that I’m in the penthouse where I tasted her “explosion of heavenly cream.” The quicker I’m in the loft in Tribeca that I’m buying, the better. It will be an Amelia Ryder–free zone. A Scarlet-free zone. Aher-free zone.

This isn’t easy for her either. I know I provoke her and that she feels weirded out by it all. I can sometimes see it happening, notice the little changes in her expression or her breathing. The way her eyes flash with temper or desire, often both. The times I see not only Miss Ryder, my very efficient secretary, but also Scarlet, the wanton sex goddess that lives inside her and only comes out to play every now and then. I’m obviously not good for either of them.

If I were in Chicago right now, I’d call the agency. I’d arrange for one of my regular ladies to visit my apartment and spend an hour or so with her and my ropes. It would soothe my mind and help me see everything more logically, and by the time she left, I’d feel better. Mentally and physically refreshed.

There must be similar establishments in New York, and it would be a simple enough process to find a willing and discreet companion for the evening. Yet it feels wrong somehow, and I can’t bring myself to pick up the phone and do it.

Truthfully, I don’t want to go anywhere near my phone right now. She sent me a message a little while ago, thanking me for the ride home. It was innocent, innocuous, thoughtful. It reassured me she was safe and not wandering the streets of New York looking like she does with her hands full of Thai food.

I didn’t reply to her. Nothing good could come from anything I want to say to Amelia Ryder. My fingers hovered over the screen, itching to tell her not to go back to her place. To come here instead. I was overwhelmed with my desire to have her in my arms, in my bed, maybe in my whole damn life. I want her like no woman I’ve ever wanted before, and I have no clue what to do with this shit.

She’s my secretary. I can’t be the douche who screws his secretary—that’s what her ex-husband did, for fuck’s sake. But more than that, I can’t be the douche who promises a woman something he can’t deliver. I’m not a relationship guy, and she is very much a relationship woman. She deserves better than me. She deserves everything that I can’t give her.

I can’t believe I said what I did tonight, that I let her know how addicted I am to her.

The scent of her skin, how she bites her lower lip when she looks up at me with those big hazel eyes, the curves her stupid dress did nothing to hide—all of it drives me wild, and tonight I crossed a line. Tonight, I showed her that side of myself.

It sucks for me, but it’s especially unfair to her. It’s also completely unprofessional. I shouldn’t be sitting here now thinking about this. I should be thinking about one thing and one thing only: the case. My work has always been my whole life. It has saved me in so many ways. Without my work, what am I? Merely an empty shell, I suspect.

Without my work, I am nothing. I can’t allow myself to let my clients down or let my brother down. To let my family down.

This thing with Amelia has got to stop.

Chapter

Sixteen

DRAKE

Idon’t see her again until late the next day. The hearing is going well thus far, and I have the feeling Callaghan’s lawyers will be pushing him toward a settlement. They know there’s blood in the water and that I’ve caught its scent. The rest is only a matter of time and money.

I’m pleased with the day’s work, but I’m also aware that it easily could have gone the other way. Yes, Amelia’s organizational skills and the extra pair of eyes helped me find a crucial piece of evidence. But Amelia’s very existence meant I didn’t get a wink of sleep all night, which caused me to start my day in the courtroom tired and distracted. Not her fault, but still not acceptable.

Part of me, the cowardly part, hoped that she wouldn’t be here when I got back to the office. I wouldn’t mind some time to decompress, maybe chat with Nathan and drink some decent Scotch. But no such luck. As I walk down the corridor toward my office, she jumps to her feet to greet me.

She doesn’t have the wrap dress on today or that top with the big bow that drives me just as wild, but I realize that it doesn’t matter. Even in the perfectly ordinary pantsuit she’s wearing, I still want to unwrap her. The issue lies with the womanunderneath the clothing, not with what she’s wearing. She has her hair in a ponytail today, and as she trots toward me, her heels clacking across the marble floor, it swishes from side to side like a glossy horse’s mane. I immediately imagine tugging on it, dragging her head back, and running my lips across her throat. I shift my briefcase in front of me. We’re about to have a difficult conversation, and I don’t want to have it while she’s looking at my erection.

“How did it go?” she says, a bubbly smile on her face. “No, you don’t need to tell me—it went great, didn’t it? Callaghan’s team has already been on the phone wanting to set up a meeting with you. I scheduled it for eight tomorrow morning. I hope that’s okay. I mean, I don’t want to presume, but if they’re looking to cut a deal, it’d be good to get something on the table before court starts at ni…”

She trails off and looks crestfallen as she takes in my grim expression. “Oh. Was I wrong? Didn’t it go well? Or is it the meeting—have I done that wrong?”

I hate that I’m responsible for putting that look on her face. That I’m responsible for stealing her zest and banishing that gorgeous smile. But if I don’t do this, I’ll be responsible for a whole lot more—like wrecking her career and potentially breaking her heart. Never mind my own. Assuming I have one.

“It did go well, and an eight a.m. meeting is perfect, Miss Ryder. Could I see you in my office in a few minutes? Just give me time to make some calls.”

She nods hesitantly. “Of course, Mr. James. Do you want anything to eat? There’s fresh sushi in the executive break room.”

I decline and go into my office, dismissing her. I haven’t eaten all day, and by rights, I should be starving. Too bad all I can think about is Amelia and her goddamn exploding donut balls.

As soon as I close my office door behind me, I look for something to break. There’s nothing in here I don’t need, though, which is a situation that needs addressing. All offices should come equipped with something to break. I glance at the coffee cups and wonder if I actually need all of them.

Standing at the window, I stare out at the harsh lines and beautiful curves of the Manhattan skyline. Chicago was amazing, but damn, I love this city. I want to stay here. I want to see Luke grow up and be there for my dad as he gets older. I want to play a part in all my brothers’ lives. I want to exorcise the ghosts of my pasts and help Nathan build his legacy. I want all of it so goddamn much.

But I also want to run. That small part of me that feels inadequate is perched on my shoulder like a devil, telling me I can’t deal with everything that comes with me staying here: commitment, pain, obstacles to overcome. Fuck, I can’t even deal with a sexy secretary.

I told her I had calls to make, but that was a bare-faced lie. I just needed a few moments to gather myself and to think. Not to mention let my cock recover its composure. As a man who prides myself on hiding my true feelings, I fucking hate that one part of my body insists on giving me away to her.

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