Page 22 of A Simple Reminder

“That’s not what I was going to say,” I reply with a laugh. “I was just going to say that I made my bed and should lie in it. You don’t have to fix this.”

She looks down at me with a sweet smile on her pretty pink lips. Do they still feel as good to kiss?Nope. Not what I should be thinking.

“It’s okay. We’re a team, right? A good team needs to look good,” she says softly, brushing off the tension with ease.

I relax back in my chair, reclining the seat as I set my feet on the desk. “Well, get started then, Sunshine. We don’t have all day.”

That smile disappears, and her expression tightens slightly, but she doesn’t tell me not to call her Sunshine. Instead, she unscrews the lid of the beige tube and dots liquid around my eye.

She picks up a pink sponge that looks like an egg before she moves closer to me. Her face is inches from mine as she dabs the pink egg where she had put the concealer.

Her eyes are even more intense from this distance; they shimmer, catching the light in a way that makes them seem almost otherworldly. There’s a sharp intensity that pulls me in despite myself. But her blue eyes are not focusing on my brown ones.

They’re locked on her work, a quiet determination etched into her features. Her brows furrow slightly as she concentrates, her lips pressing together in an endearing and maddening way.

“Just some powder so it stays on,” she whispers, almost for herself. Her breath is warm, and I catch the faintest scent of her perfume. I swallow hard, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet. Our eyes meet for a beat, and she offers a soft smile. “I promise no one will notice.”

She thinks I’m nervous because someone might notice, but that’s not it. I don’t care what anyone notices. It’s her—she’s just so close, and it’s making my pulse race in a way I can’t control.

Her fingertip brushes against the corner of my eye, gently wiping away a trace of powder. The touch lingers for a heartbeat longer than she probably intended. I shouldn’t enjoy this so much, but damn it, I do.

If I’m blushing, at least my olive skin tone is doing me a solid by hiding it. Small mercies. Because she’s so close, and my brain? Yeah, it’s gone rogue—thinking things it definitely shouldn’t and forgetting how to function entirely.

Her lips part slightly, as though she’s about to say something, but the words don’t come. Instead, she blinks rapidly, breaking whatever had settled between us. Then she straightens, her eyes still holding mine, though something in them feels unsteady.

The hand that just burned its way across my skin dives back into her handbag, pulling out a small mirror.

“Here,” she says, handing it to me with a faint smile. “Now you don’t look as disheveled.”

The bruise looks much less visible now, almost completely gone. Makeup is magic.

I clear my throat. “Look at that. You made me look pretty again. Thank you.”

“No worries, I’m here for whatever you need,boss,” she says with a chuckle before she catches the look on my face.Whatever you need, boss.Oh, I can think of a lot of things I need.

“I mean, of course, at work. Anything work-related. Anything I can help withhere.” There’s a slight pink hue to her cheeks as she stumbles on her words before changing the subject. “Ehm, so is the contractor showing us around?”

She’s cute, and it probably shows in the big grin I have on my face, but I shove down all replies that aren’t professional. Because, well, I’m a professional guy. “Yeah, we’re going to go through the different bedrooms and common areas, so you’ll get a hint of the size. I thought it would be easier to see it with your own eyes rather than only a blueprint.”

“That’s great. I didn’t think I’d see it this early, but that's perfect, especially because I’m trying to get a consultation with Dominic Moretti.”

“Dominic Moretti?”

“Yes, I’d love to get some of his pieces in the common areas and maybe suites. But there’s a waitlist to be on the waitlist so I doubt I’ll get a meeting in this lifetime,” she says with a defeated tone, her shoulders sagging a bit.

Lucky for her, I know a way to contact him. “I know him.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I actually do. Very handsome man.”

The look on her face is absolutely priceless. Her mouth opens, then closes—like a fish out of water. Not a word comes out. Is she too stunned to speak? Or just trying to figure out how to tell me she doesn't believe me in an entirely new language?

“I’m not promising anything, but I’ll try to get you that meeting.”

ELEVEN

SOPHIE

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