Page 87 of Heated
“It’s about time you got here. You’re an attorney. Isn’t it your job to be places on time?” Levi drawls.
Cyrus dips his head in Jordan’s direction. “His fault. He insisted on tagging along. And on me picking him up.”
Levi sighs. “If neediness is going to be part of this bromance, I might have to rethink—”
“What in. The actual.Hell.Is going on here?” I grind out.
I’ve entered the fucking twilight zone. It’s the only explanation for why Cyrus is in my place of business, clients are fangirling over Jordan, and Levi is apparently besties with the enemy.
Cyrus smiles at me. And it’s a full, honest-to-God smile, not just one of those lip quirks or smirks.
It doesn’t ease the dread eddying inside me at all. If anything, it sets it swirling and banging against my bones, rattling them.
“I received your email,” he says.
Oh. That explains his presence here. Certainly not everything else, but at least one thing. I inhale, my shoulders relaxing a fraction.
“So you read it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Okay, I’m back towhat the actual hell.
“Cyrus.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What are you doing here?” I ask again, and this time, I don’t even try to keep the weariness from my voice.
After not seeing him for over a week, being with him for just these few minutes is almost too overwhelming. I want to run to him, throw my arms around his waist, and hold him. I want to be held by him. I want to kiss him, taste him. I just ... want. So much.
And I can’t have any of that. So yes, I’m tired and overwhelmed with the intensity and power of him.
It’d be a kindness if he’d say whatever it is he came here to get off his chest and go so I can start the process of getting over him.
Good luck with that, ma’am.
I can’t even argue with my bitchy conscience.
“I’m here for you, Zora Nelson. Because I love you. And after finally getting my head out of my ass, I’ve come to tell you that and am hoping it’s not too late.”
I blink.
I’m imagining this. It was bound to happen. Craving something so much, I’ve cracked, and now my mind has created an alternate universe where Cyrus is uttering all the words I’ve desired to hear. I’ve officially gone round the bend.
“I think we’ve lost her,” Miriam stage-whispers.
“Do you mind?” I snap over my shoulder at her, although, damn, she’s not all the way wrong. But must she point it out?
Returning to Cyrus, I shake my head, clearing it. “Cyrus, I don’t know what’s going on here, but ...”
“I know this is surprising.”
“Surprising?” I huff out a serrated laugh that abrades my throat, throwing my hands in the air. “Cyrus, Ibetrayedyou. You said you can’t stand liars or thieves. Because of my lie, I embarrassed you in front of your colleagues and might’ve cost you a partnership.” And then I ask the question I’d been afraid to in the email. The one that has been torturing me with guilt. “Did you lose your chance at the partnership?”
“I don’t know. I’m no longer with Ryson, Dare, and Gregerson.”
I gasp. Rage propels me forward several steps, and I’m damn near shaking. “Those bastards fired you?” I demand.
His smile—that real, whole smile—makes another appearance. He really needs to quit doing that.
“No, I quit. It was either destroy employee morale by putting my hands on Derrick every time we saw each other in the halls or leave. Not to mention, I had to acknowledge the culture there wasn’t one I’d ever been entirely comfortable with. So I’m opening my own firm.”
