Page 30 of Promise Me Forever

“No. I’m going to resist him, I swear. No matter how hard that is sometimes.”

She looks at me with a perplexed expression on her face and shakes her head. “What?” I ask. “Are you horrified?”

“Well, I’m a bit horrified on your behalf at how it all worked out for you, but mainly I’m just… surprised, I think? You, Amelia Ryder, having a one-night stand. Talking about sex like you finally understand what all the fuss is about. You’re kind of lit up from the inside. It’s like a completely different version of you than the one I know.”

I suppose Emily’s right—I am different around him. I’ve felt different since meeting him.

Different in a way that makes everything better, in a way that makes me better. No matter the awkwardness of the whole Drake situation, I will always be one hundred percent grateful that our night together happened. It might have meant little to him, but it’s already changed me in ways he can’t imagine.

Chapter

Fourteen

AMELIA

“Dammit! Shit.” Drake’s frustrated curses drift through the crack in his office door. He sounds even more exasperated than he does when the coffee machine acts up. I shrug my purse onto my shoulder and pop my head inside to see what the problem is. He’s leaning over his desk, a whirlwind of paperwork all over the room. There are stacks of it on the desk, on the floor, and on his chair.

“Is everything okay, Mr. James?”

He glances up at the sound of my voice, looking surprised to see me standing there. His usually styled hair is ruffled in a way that makes him look more human, and his plain navy tie is crooked. For a man who usually looks immaculate, this is the equivalent of walking naked through Central Park. It’s kind of cute, not that he’d appreciate that word being pointed in his direction. We’ve worked well together so far, dealing with tasks efficiently and calmly. Both of us have done a good job channeling our inner robot, and whatever feelings either of us might have about the other have been kept firmly buttoned up. Not that I assume for a minute that he has any feelings at all about me.

Now, though, seeing him like this—unkempt, frustrated, ever-so-slightly vulnerable—I experience a rush of affection along with the usual rush of desire. I shift from one foot to the other, rubbing the sides of my pumps together. I’m suddenly nervous, and I probably should have just headed home. “It sounded like something was wrong,” I mutter, unsettled by his silence. He’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before, and I quickly glance down at my outfit. It’s my wrap dress again, but this time glammed up with some pearls. All perfectly acceptable, surely?

Even from across the room, I see his Adam’s apple bob under the force of his swallow. He glances at the clock on the wall. “I thought you’d left for the day. Don’t you normally finish at five?”

Drake, I know, puts in insane hours. He’s always here when I arrive in the morning and still here when I leave. I suspect he’s even here on weekends, and even if he’s not in the office, he’s definitely working. But he’s also made it clear that he doesn’t expect me to match that or to be at his beck and call.

Clearing my throat, I step farther into the room. His jacket is slung on the floor, and his white shirt clings to the muscular shape of his broad shoulders. Why does business attire have to be so damn sexy? It doesn’t seem fair. I ignore my racing heart and cast my eyes over the chaos of the room.

“I worked late because I took an extra-long lunch. I had to pop over to check on my mom.”

“Is she all right? You know you can take time whenever you need. Some things are more important than work,” he says, looking genuinely concerned. Again, I’m reminded of how much we unwittingly shared with each other on the night of the wedding. He knows all about her health condition, and I know how much he misses his own mother, who died when he was only twenty-three. I suspect moms are a touchy subject for this man, and it moves me that he cares.

“She’s okay,” I assure him quickly. “I don’t know if you remember, but she has COPD, and sometimes her oxygen levels get a little low. She called me upset, and I…” I shake my head and stop myself from babbling. He doesn’t need to know the finer details. “But she’s okay now.”

“Of course I remember. If you need any recommendations for doctors, just ask. My sister-in-law makes sure we all donate staggering amounts of money to local hospitals.” Pausing, he tilts his head. “Uh-oh. Does that make me sound like Bruce Wayne?”

A smile creeps over my face as I recall that conversation. “Thanks, that’s very kind of you. But right now it looks like Batman is the one who could do with some help.”

He winces, his eyes dropping back to the pile of papers on his desk. He has a huge case starting tomorrow, and from the tight lines of his shoulders and the scowl on his face, I’d say he’s incredibly stressed. He stares at the mess, mumbling something unintelligible as he absentmindedly winds and unwinds a thick length of cord around his fist. It looks therapeutic and strangely erotic. Then again, I’d probably find it erotic if he was crushing a tomato.

“Please let me help, Mr. James.”

He looks up again, his eyes wide like he forgot I was here. He twists and turns the cord in his fingers, and his dark gaze holds mine for a few silent seconds. Heat blooms beneath my skin, and I wonder what is going through his mind. For a moment, I think he’s actually going to tell me, but then he abruptly shakes his head. “No, thank you. Goodnight, Miss Ryder.”

If this is a work thing, and it certainly looks like one, then he should let me help. It’s not like I haven’t signed a confidentiality agreement, and I have full access to his emails. I might not be a lawyer myself, but I know the intimate details of the case he’s working on. I’ve arranged several meetings about it and takennotes during them. Next to him, I’m probably the person who knows the most about it.

With a deep breath, I take another cautious step closer, like I’m approaching a dog that might bite. “This is the Callaghan case, yes?”

He nods, not even looking up, lost in his world of paper.

“Right. Well, I think I’m going to stay and help you. What kind of a secretary would I be if I abandoned you to this?”

“There’s really no need for that, Miss Ryder. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with this myself.”

“I don’t doubt how capable you are, Mr. James,” I say, realizing as the words leave my mouth how flirtatious they sound. Or maybe I’m being paranoid. I decide to quickly move on, just in case. “But I’m capable too. You might be Batman, but my superpower is organization. I could at least help you get these papers into some kind of order.”

I try not to show it, but I’m pretty desperate for him to say yes. So far, our working relationship has been fine. Certainly a lot better than I expected it to be on that first day. He seems pleased with my performance, and there have been no issues. But I’ve also yet to feel… essential, I guess is the word for it. Like I, Amelia Ryder, am personally needed for the job. I know that’s pathetic and that employees really shouldn’t be so desperate, but I do like to feel useful. I like working here, like working for Drake. Not because he’s a demigod with supernatural skills in the sack, but because behind his cocksure charm and surface confidence, he’s actually sweet and a little vulnerable, and well, just a good person.

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