Page 87 of Who's Your Daddy
“Wait.” Brian snags my arm and with more strength than I knew he possessed, he whips me around, eyes narrowed, and grip tight. “You better not fuck this up. She’s our paralegal. We need her here. She’s not one of your usual girls.”
With a scowl, I break free of his hold and smooth the front of my Oxford. “Of course she’s not. She’s Lola.”
Brian sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw, and takes a step back.
That’s better. She may have been his paralegal and they may be friends, but if anyone is going to claim her, it’s me.
I’ll fight him for that right. Regardless of nearly two decades of friendship and a partnership on the line, I wouldn’t hesitate. Lola is the prize here.
“You and Lola?” Sully asks in disbelief.
I poke at his chest. “You can’t talk. I know secrets too.”
Jaw ticking, Brian glares at Sully. “You too?”
“Don’t even start.” My brother pulls the chair back, making it screech along the floor. He’s dangerously close to taking out Lola’s bouquet with his big arse when he spots them and freezes. With a sigh, he snatches them up and shoves them into my chest.“She’s my wife.” He drops into the chair with a huff. “I told you I’m going to get her back.”
Groaning, Brian sits in the seat I just vacated. “You Murphy men are going to cost us the firm, you know that?”
I pay him no mind. I’m too busy studying my brother.
I get it now. I get why he’s so sure he’ll get his wife back. A woman like Sloane—like Lola—is worth everything. There’s no givingup when there’s a possibility with her on the line. No inconvenience, no difficulty, is too great. Sure, these women will put us through our paces. They won’t show up for dates. They’ll tell us they don’t want to give us a real shot. But that’s all bluster. They’re just scared. Scared we’ll do what we’ve done in the past. Underwhelm them. Disappoint them. Screw it all up.
So it’s time to prove them wrong. We’ll show Brian that there’s more to life than work. If we lose the firm? Fuck, that would be terrible. But losing Lola? That’s just not an option.
Chapter 30
Lola
One step outside Murphy’s room, the smell hits me. It’s mouthwatering. Savory and a little yeasty.
My stomach grumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten tonight. Neither the chicken nuggets nor the mac and cheese I made for Murphy was gluten-free. When I searched the kitchen for something I could eat, I came up empty, so my dinner will have to wait until I get home.
The main area of the apartment is darker than it should be, as if the lights were turned off while I was reading to Murphy. I refuse to believe in Sebastian, ghosts are not real, however weird shit does happen around here. When I left the office yesterday, there was a stack of files on the table near where I’ve set up my work station, but when I came in this morning, they had been moved to the floor. They weren’t knocked over, either. The Redwelds were laid out in a checkerboard pattern on the dingy carpet.
Cal’s sure it was Sebastian.
I blame Amy.
But Amy isn’t here tonight, so I can’t accuse her of turning the lightsoff.
I’ll be really concerned if I discover a ghost in the kitchen, making a meal.
Halfway down the hall, I can see what looks like candlelight dancing off the leaves of the ferns I replaced yesterday. When people have séances to call ghosts they set candles, but do ghosts do it when they are coming to meet people?
I hope not.
Heart in my throat, I step into the main living area. If I find a floating specter, I’ll dart back into Murphy’s room.
Shit. Can ghosts pass through walls? I don’t know. But I can’t leave Murphy, so I can’t bolt from here the way my feet want me to.
Instead of an apparition, I find the man who has taken up entirely too much space in my head.
“Lola.” Cal smiles that ridiculously charming smile, practically singing my name like he always does. Beside him, the Ping-Pong table is set with two plates, a breadbasket, water and wine glasses, a vase of flowers, and two battery-operated candles. “You attempted to skip our meeting.”
“No, I skipped your nonsense. Surely your business partners were capable of handling whatever you needed.” I feign annoyance, but in reality, the scent of freshly baked bread makes it impossible to be anything but hungry.
“If you’ll remember, I told you the meeting was mandatory.” He pulls out my chair. “So I brought all the nonsense and the gluten-free bread to you.”
