Page 13 of Shattering Nash

When he let go of her wrist, she dropped her hand to her side and nervously shifted on her feet. He glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with Ridge. Nash lifted his chin, silently dismissing the men. They all went separate ways to either end of the balcony. It wasn’t complete privacy, but he hoped it would settle her nerves. Nash was well aware how intimidating his men could be.

“I don’t know anything about night clubs, so my opinion means nothing.” Her voice shook on the last word.

“I disagree. Sometimes, it’s good to have insight from someone outside of the realm. Gives a different perspective, especially coming from someone whose opinion is valuable to others.”

Charley seemed to relax for a brief second only to snort and shake her head. “Nobody values my opinion.”

“Elle does,” he countered.

She peeked up through her lashes, and the corners of her mouth curved into a small smile. Even before this moment, Nash knew Elodie’s opinion of Charley meant a lot to her employee. On a few instances, he’d overheard Elodie talking with Oz about Charley. She’d had nothing but praise.

“I like the art,” Charley blurted, and her cheeks turned to a darker shade of red. She fidgeted with her scarf and veered her gaze to the opposite side of the room.

She was so on edge, he felt an unrelenting need to put her at ease. She still had one hand on her neck while the other traced the zipper of her purse.

“Charley?” When she looked up at him, Nash smiled and gestured to the table. “Have a seat.”

Charley made her way to the table and sat. Nash unbuttoned his jacket, taking the seat across from her.

“Do you know a lot about art?”

She drew in a breath. “Um, no. I just know what I like, if that makes sense.”

It did. Art was all about interpretation. A hundred people could look at the same painting, and ninety-nine could think it was the worst display they’d ever seen. And that one remaining person could deem it a masterpiece.

Nash stared back at Charley. She looked different tonight. Still beautiful but her clothes were casual, obviously nothing she’d gotten from the boutique. Blue jeans and a white T-shirt. And her oddly added accessory. The scarf was pretty, probably something she’d picked up from Elodie’s store. Though it didn’t match the outfit.

Charley clasped her hands, resting them in her lap. As the seconds ticked by, he noticed she glanced around the room, twisting her fingers and blatantly avoiding eye contact.

“Elle didn’t mention a meeting,” he said. Nash hadn’t expected her response. She jerked her head and immediately reached inside her purse, pulling out her phone. Her hand shook as she tapped the screen.

“I can show you the proof, um…” She stumbled over her words. “I mean, what she sent me.”

She bit her lip, and her features strained when she muttered, “Where is it?”

It was an odd reaction to a simple question. Nash lightly grabbed her wrist in an effort to calm her. It had the polar opposite effect. She gasped softly, and her pulse went into overdrive under his palm.

“Relax, Charley,” he whispered.

“I may have misunderstood the message.”

He slid his thumb over her skin. “Show me.”

She turned the phone, and his eyes scanned the screen.

She hadn’t misunderstood. It was written out clearly. Elodie set up a meeting at the X-Lounge for them to meet at eight to discuss inventory.

“You didn’t. However, it’s possible Elle has forgotten.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I can meet with her another day at her convenience. I’ll just go now.” She glanced down at his hand clutching hers. It would’ve put her at ease if he let her go.

Not yet.

He shifted forward in his seat and leaned closer, “Do I make you nervous?”

Her throat bobbed, and her bottom lip trembled slightly. Nash didn’t expect an answer, but he wanted one. He was sure she’d stay silent. She didn’t.

“A little,” she whispered.

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