Page 67 of Defend Me

CHAPTER TWENTY

NOAH

What wasthat?

I stare at my reflection in the mirror of one of the enormous bathrooms on the first floor of the Everton mansion. My eyes are wild, my chest heaving.

I was about to kiss Von.

And I think she might have wanted me to.

I wash my face and try to scrub the image from my mind. Did she feel the way the air was charged between us, sharp and shimmering like lightning? When she touched my shoulder, a ripple ran down my arm and into my chest. Even now, my body craves her touch again. I can still feel the imprint of her palm on my shoulder.

I was grateful she didn’t decide to swim. I don’t think I could have handled Von in a bikini.

I’ve got to shut this down, now. There are so many reasons why this is a bad idea. She’s Caden’s sister, for one. She’s my damn lawyer, for another.

Plus, she’s got a date tonight. That news felt like a rug getting pulled out from under me. I was only joking when I said it. Some joke.

I hurriedly pull on my clothes, run a comb through my hair and stare at my reflection again. I scratch at the beard that covers my cheeks. My hair is getting even shaggier. It’s almost comical to think of Von wanting to be with a guy like me.

I wonder who her date is. Probably some hot shot lawyer or hedge fund manager or someone else who lives in the billionaire orbit.

I rub my beard again and take a deep breath before heading out to say my goodbyes.

Von and I are quiet on the ride to the helipad.

Alex keeps glancing at us in the rearview. I wonder if he senses the tension. It’s like this car is too small. I’m deeply aware of the slender length of Von’s arm only inches away from mine. She’s put her sunglasses back on even though the light is fading. One hand rests on the seat beside her and I have a wild urge to grasp it between my palms and pull her into me, to surround myself in her jasmine scent.

Instead, I force myself to look out the window as the scenery of the North Fork rolls past me in a blur. We take the chopper back to the Seaport, then get chauffeured through the busy streets of New York. Von and I say strained hellos to Sam and Benito as we enter her apartment building. Sam gives me a curious look as the elevator doors close. The silence is agony. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what she’s thinking. Was I inappropriate before? Is she feeling uncomfortable around me now? I hope not. When the doors open into her apartment, it feels like homecoming all over again. Just a different sort of home.

Von doesn’t look at me as she steps out of the elevator.

“I’ve got to change,” she says, stalking past me and up the stairs to her room.

She’s getting ready for her date.

Something hot and uncomfortable slithers in my chest.

I walk across the living room and press the button that opens the giant glass walls to the terrace. I need some air. There’s the faintest chill outside that undercuts the humidity, a sign of impending fall. I watch the lights of the city begin to flicker on one by one, the streetlamps below me and the apartments across the street.

I can’t believe Von arranged a whole party for me today. It’s hard to remember how I used to think of her—cold, unfeeling, arrogant. Was she always a thoughtful person and I was too blind or stubborn to see it? I pride myself on being able to read people. Have I misread Von all these years?

I hear the click of high heels behind me and turn.

All the blood in my body rushes to my core, my head suddenly light. Von is wearing a tight-fitting, glittery black minidress, its skirt skimming the tops of her thighs, her tanned, toned legs ending in a pair of scarlet heels. Long sleeves encase her arms and diamonds drip from her ears. Her hair is sleek as ever, pinned into a low bun, and I have the strongest urge to pull the pins out and let those auburn locks fall free, to finally see Von with her hair down. Her makeup is more dramatic than usual and she’s rifling through a small gold clutch.

The hot, slithery feeling in my chest intensifies. I know it’s not logical—I don’t know this man she’s meeting. Von is not mine. She’s free to date whoever she pleases. It’s not my business.

But I don’t like it.

Von snaps the clutch closed and the sound brings me to my senses. She looks up at me and something like shock flickers in her eyes. I don’t know what my expression is, but I have no time to neutralize it.

“What?” she asks.

“N—nothing,” I stammer. My voice squeaks like a middle school boy hitting puberty. “You look nice,” I add, then internally curse myself because she looks so much more than nice and I’m not usually this bad at giving compliments.

She gives me the shy smile I’ve come to love. I don’t know when that happened. When I started to notice all of Von’s different smiles.

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