“You mean you no longer believe that she sent Genevieve to spy on us?” I’m practically giddy with how this day is turning out. “See? People can change. It’s all good now, right?”
“No, I still don’t fucking trust her,” Hudson says, heading to his desk.
My elation is quickly deflated. “Then why did—”
“I trust you.”
Here’s where my jaw drops. Figuratively. I wouldn’t really let Hudson see my shock. That would be giving too much away.
He smiles as though he can read me anyway. “You said you could make this work, Chandler. I believe you can. Go do it, brother.” He sits down and addresses his computer screen, dismissing me.
I kind of want to hug him right now, but since he isn’t really the touchy-feely type, I settle on running over and giving him a noogie.
Yep. That definitely feels more appropriate.
19
I spend the rest of the day finalizing my proposal for Warren Werner. There are financial reports to gather and contracts to look over. Then, after a late meeting with Nathan Murphy, I head over to Genevieve’s hotel.
My stomach knots when she doesn’t answer my knock, and I wonder jealously where she’s at and who she’s with. What if she’s already checked out? What if she’s headed back to London right now while I rap insistently on her door?
This room is the only connection I have to her, though, so I sit my ass down on the floor and wait.
It’s nearly three hours later when I spot her coming down the hall with her father and Celia. She sees me instantly, and for a half a second, she appears to light up.
Just as quickly, her smile fades.
She leaves the others at a door a couple of rooms down and heads down to her own. Down to where I’m waiting.
“What are you doing here?” she asks when she’s only an arm’s length away, her tone even and unreadable.
God, I wish I had the courage to pull her into me. Wish I had the strength to never let her go again. “We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“Yes, there is.” I’m conscious of her father standing within earshot as he works the key to his room, but his presence doesn’t stop me from saying what I need to say. “Like, I’m sorry.”
She takes a breath in, but her gaze remains steady and aloof. “You said that already. I told you it didn’t matter.”
“That’s a lie, and we both know it.”
“Do you need me, princess?” Edward’s still in the doorway to his room, Celia having disappeared inside.
For one bleak moment, I fear she’ll say yes. That he’ll have security called, and I’ll be fighting two guards as they attempt to escort me out of the building.
Because I will fight. I’ll fight tooth and nail.
But eventually she says, “No, Daddy. I can handle myself. Goodnight.”
I’m relieved but still daunted. This is only the first step. There’s two feet between where she stands and where I stand, and yet it feels like a giant chasm that I’ll never be able to cross. The smell of her drifts across the distance. It’s punishing how much it makes me miss her. Need her. And I know in this moment that the way I feel about her is different than how I’ve felt about anyone else before because, though I want her, I want her to be happy more.
So even though I’m desperate to beg for her love, I hold back. “Look, if you’d rather ignore everything personal between us, then I understand. I’m not here for that anyway.”
“Then why are you here?” She flinches as she recognizes the words I said to her when I attacked her at Mabel Shores. “Guess it’s my turn to ask.”
I came to tell you I love you.
Except I didn’t. This isn’t about me—it’s about her. What she wants. What she needs. “I came to talk to you about business.”
She rolls her eyes and turns to her door, pulling out her keycard. “The Accelecom/Werner Media merger is dead in the water.”
“I know. I have another idea. A better idea.” I have her attention. She hesitates, tapping her key against the metal frame instead of sliding it in the card reader. “Give me fifteen minutes.” I’ll take five if that’s all she’ll give. I’ll take one and it will be the best minute of my life. “Please.”
A few more taps, and she closes her palm around the card. “I’m not letting you in.” She’s referring to her room, but I can’t help but think she’s referring to more.
It makes my chest twist and ache. I knew a second chance with her was unlikely, but it hurts to be faced with the truth.
Still, it doesn’t change that I love her, and even if I never say it, I want to give her this one thing. “We can go anywhere you want. You name the place.”
Slowly, she turns back to face me. She bites her lip as she deliberates. After what seems like an eternity, she nods toward the room at the end of the hall. “This way. The Executive Lounge should be quiet at this time of day.”
As she’s predicted, the lounge is practically empty. A couple talks quietly in the corner. In the center of the room, a man in a suit works on his laptop, his headphones leaking strains of something heavy and metal.
She chooses a seat near the doors. “In case I need to escape,” she says, and I’m glad she’s able to joke until I look at her expression and realize she’s not joking at all.
“You’re perfectly safe. I promise.” I won’t touch her because that’s not what she wants, but even as I pull out my reports from my briefcase, I remember the touch of her skin against mine. Can you blame me for brushing my hand against hers as I pass her a copy?