His Forbidden Love (Manhattan Billionaires #2) - Ava Ryan Page 0,42
in the middle of the bar. Of course she didn’t promise to leave her nice-guy boyfriend for me after the performance I gave. Why would she?
I shake my head at myself and top it off with a bitter and disbelieving laugh.
Well done, Jamison. Truly exemplary.
At least the cat’s out of the bag, I decide as I kick my shoes into the basket next to the elevator then get a little more comfortable by shedding my T-shirt and jeans and dumping them on the bench before tossing my phone onto the living room sofa and heading straight to the bar area. At least I don’t have to pretend around her anymore. And you know what? It was a relief to tell her. I feel light and airy, as though I’ve wriggled my way out from under the two-ton boulder that’s been flattening me this whole time. I can breathe again. Although that feeling will probably only last as long as it takes her to sue me for sexual harassment. I should probably call my lawyers and tell them to be on the lookout for her lawsuit. Maybe give them a little extra retainer.
I splash some scotch and soda into a crystal tumbler and stare at my glittering skyline view of the Hudson River in a moody silence. I’ve never felt like more of a loser, which is ironic, given the fact that I’m at the top of my game. I’ve made a fortune from my investment in Liam’s medical device. I bought myself this fantastic penthouse apartment. Started furnishing it. I’ve got cars and clothes. I travel if I ever eke out any free time, which I don’t particularly want to do, because I’m having so much fun building my new practice group. I have almost everything a person could want or need to live his best life.
Except the one woman I can’t stop thinking about.
I sip my drink, but the taste sours in my mouth. I set the tumbler on the coffee table and slump onto the sofa with my hands on top of my head. Swear to God, I’m so frustrated, I could grab handfuls of my hair and rip it out by the roots. I’m still so hot for her that I could beat my meat again. Hopefully to completion this time. Except that the idea holds zero appeal. And I’m too emotionally exhausted to bother anyway.
So…
I guess that leaves TV. I could try to find a good murder documentary. Those always cheer me up. Maybe the background noise will distract me while I try to figure out how I’m going to face her at work tomorrow after all this.
I reach for the remote, but my phone buzzes before I can hit any buttons. I seriously consider letting it go to voicemail, since I’m not on call tonight and the effort to answer it requires way more energy than I currently possess. But then it buzzes again and I answer out of habit.
“Yeah?”
“Dr. Jamison, it’s Frederick downstairs.” Building security.
“Yep,” I say, rubbing my eyes with my free hand. “What’s up?”
“I have someone here to see you, but her name isn’t on your approved list. Do you know an Ally?”
I frown, my brain blanking completely out for a good three or four seconds.
Then it hits me with the force of a lightning strike through the top of my head.
“Ally?” I say, shooting to my feet. “What the fuck are you doing, Freddie? Send her up. Now.”
“Right away, sir.”
I toss the phone away and add another transgression to my list of sins for the night: acting like a jackass to the security guy. I’ll give him a nice tip tomorrow.
For now, I race to my elevator, my heart in my throat and my clumsy limbs feeling as though they belong to some other guy. Nerves will do that to you. It’s a wonder I don’t trip over my own feet and make it the rest of the way sprawled on my belly like a batter sliding into home plate. Throwing my clothes back on never crosses my mind. It’s all I can do to work my lungs in a semi-normal manner and try to manage the rest of this body that feels as though it’s trembling with anticipation.
Then the doors slide open and there she is. Right out of my wildest dreams.
She seems as breathless as I feel. Her color is high. There’s a thrilling and fiery light in her whiskey-colored eyes that I’ve never seen before, and that makes