Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,45
Oliver’s.
He’s staring at me with a smug smile on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He shrugs and looks back down at his papers. “You’re just so full of shit.”
Before I can respond—before I can get my head wrapped around what he’s insinuating I’m full of shit about, exactly—Rosie knocks on the door. Her head pokes around the corner.
“Boys, Graham Landry is in the conference room,” she says.
“We’ll be right there,” I tell her.
She nods and disappears, pulling the door softly behind her.
Oliver shuffles his papers into a neat stack. “I need to get one more file from my office before we go in.”
“You go ahead,” I tell him. “I’ll meet you there in five.”
He nods and disappears out the door too.
I tuck my tie in my jacket once again before pulling at the knot around my neck. I’m not sure if it’s too tight today or if my office is unusually warm. Either way, it’s uncomfortable.
My lungs fill with air as I step around my desk. But before I can get all the way to the other side, my gaze falls on my phone.
I stop.
No worries. I get it.
“No worries, huh?” I mutter.
Shaking my head, I pick up the phone and glance at the clock. After a quick mental calculation, my fingers fly across the keypad.
Me: I apologize for bailing on you today. I should’ve called. Meet me at The Carriage House tonight at six. It’s on Harrison Street. I’ll make it up to you.
Before she can respond, I turn my phone off and toss it on my desk.
“Now, let’s go make some money,” I say as I march out of my office.
Seventeen
Blaire
The evening air is crisp and smells faintly of rain.
When rain is on the horizon in Chicago, the city takes on the odor of a rich stew saturated with gasoline. But here, in a cozy section of Savannah, it’s different. The air hints of the earth and sea. It’s evocative.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep lungful of air and am whisked back to summers on Lake Michigan with my family. I can almost hear my family’s laughter and smell the barbecue pit that Dad tended with the care of a surgeon.
“I’m glad you’re still here.”
I whirl around at the sound of Holt’s voice.
He tugs at his tie, his forehead wrinkled as he approaches me on the sidewalk in front of The Carriage House. He looks divinely handsome in his tailored suit and freshly shaven face. The air of sophistication mixed with the razor-cut jaw and wide, strong shoulders make me forget about everything but him.
“A horse-drawn carriage?” I lift a brow. “I wasn’t about to miss my chance at being a princess.”
He grins. “You being a princess is an interesting concept.”
“And why is that?”
Holt stops in front of me. His tie is slightly askew, and it’s all I can do not to reach out and straighten it. I grip my sweater harder to keep myself from running my fingers through his rumpled hair.
“Which princess would you be?” he asks. “The one who waits for a knight in shining armor to rescue her from a tower? Or the one who needs a kiss from a prince to awaken?”
I half-laugh. “How about the one who rescues herself?”
“My point.”
He narrows his eyes, and I can see the stress he’s trying to hide with his slow smile. It’s the aftermath of a day of battling at work. I’d imagine his body aches and his brain feels like a pan of scrambled eggs too. And suddenly, I wish he wouldn’t have offered to bring me here and would’ve gone home instead.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” I say. “I was about to leave.”
“Of course, I was coming,” he says, his eyes searching mine. “I’m sorry about earlier and for making you wait now. Things got a bit hectic at the office.”
“You don’t have to entertain me, you know. You didn’t have to do this.”
His grin is beautiful if tired. “I never do anything I don’t want to do.”
He allows his smile to speak for him. It lingers my way for a few long seconds. The hesitation I felt before melts away, and I realize how happy and relieved I am that he showed up.
And how even happier I am that I believe he wants to be here too.
“Hello, Cassius,” Holt says, dragging his eyes away from me. “Thank you for helping me out tonight.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Mason. It’s my pleasure.”
Cassius, the man who introduced himself to me when I arrived, shakes Holt’s hand. He