The Note (Manhattan Nights #5) - Natalie Wrye Page 0,50

my collectibles used to be women. “Art’s been one of them, so I’ve grown up having an eye for artistic talent. And you are, Sophia…”

Her brows scrunch. “I am what exactly?”

“Talented. And I don’t mean at just ‘stealing.’”

I grin, and to my surprise, she grins back. The heaviness in the air dissipates just a little as her back straightens and she looks at me with seemingly new eyes, her gaze inquisitive. I watch Sophia fumble with a few thoughts before opening her mouth.

“I’m not the only one you should be calling talented, you know.” One eyebrow shoots upwards into a semi-circle. “You’re very good.”

“At?”

“That’s it. That’s what I mean. You… You’re ‘good,’ if that makes any sense.”

“Me?” I flick a thumb at the center of my heart. “Good? Oh, I see. Well, I’ll give you this, Sophia: You may be talented in many ways. But lying isn’t one of them. I’m never been known to anyone as ‘good.’”

“Then I think you’ve been talking to the wrong people, Mr. Quinn.” Her eyes glow under the gray lighting streaming from outside. The rain fogs the windows and glow from the decorated storefront windows, blurring everything but her face, and my heart thunders in my ears as I meet my eyes with hers.

“What you did at the bar with those bankers the night we met? Good. The way you gave Nancy a ride from the auction? Good. The passion you show for your work in the office. The way your employees looked at you yesterday when I stopped by the office.” She inhales deeply, her breasts rising as she does, her nipples beading from the slight chill in the air, and my mouth literally waters. I keep my concentration on her eyes. “They like you, Noah. People actually like you. And they’d be there for you. If you’d let them in.

“You pretend you don’t need anyone else. That you have a handle on every single aspect of everything you touch. But truth is? I think it’s a ruse so that you don’t have to let anyone in. Because as long as you’re perfect, as long as you pretend not to need anyone, then you don’t have depend on anyone else. Rely on anyone else. Trust anyone else. My guess?” Sophia tucks thick strands of her behind her ears. “Someone close to you betrayed your trust. And you’ve tried to pretend you don’t have any since.”

“Is that what you think, Miss Somerset?” My stare hardens, the skin across my neck and torso heating and tightening as my subconscious fights against the truth of what Sophia is saying. I incline closer, invading her space.

But this time, her gaze doesn’t flit to the floor. It remains stuck on me, and the tension—thick and dripping wet—replaces the heaviness that was once in the air.

I lick my drying bottom lip as Sophia crosses her arms. Defying me. Daring me.

My dark brows shoot up and back. “What else do you think you know about me?”

I watch her swallow, her amber-emerald eyes flickering between mine. Back and forth.

At this point, we’re inches from each other’s faces, and I realize that the dilemma I’d felt earlier is blown to bits. Shattered to smithereens.

Because “sticking it” to Sophia Somerset for screwing me over is taking on a whole new meaning as I lean in. Slowly. So slowly.

I can feel the quiet puffs of her minty cool breath on my face as I close the distance between us, my gaze dropping to her slightly opened mouth. Suddenly that mouth starts speaking.

“I think that I, uh…”

“That you what?” I minimize the distance by another inch.

“That you…”

Another inch. “That I…what, Sophia? What? Say it.”

But she can’t say it. Not now.

Not when the sound of a small explosion rings out beneath the town car, and the wheels lean at a dangerous angle. Not when the vehicle goes sliding through the slicked New York streets, kicking up slush as we careen towards the sidewalk, the brakes screeching beneath the carriage.

The tires of the town car scream as we head towards a stop sign without slowing.

It takes me several seconds to recognize that the scream is Sophia’s as I brace for impact.

Chapter 15

SOPHIA

Wednesday afternoon

I thought we were dead.

For a full three seconds as our car lurched towards a wave of crossing traffic, I just knew that our car would be obliterated, smashed to pieces by the slew of cars coming in the other direction.

I didn’t think; I just acted.

My arms braced for impact, yes. But more importantly, they