Chapter Twenty-Four
Sophia kept herself busy all day long. She didn’t want even a second of down time to dwell on the incidents that morning.
Dane finally emerged from a series of meetings and came over to her desk. Sophia glanced at the clock on her laptop. Six thirty sharp.
“Ready to head out?” he asked.
She nodded, and they left together. If her coworkers noticed that she always left with him, they didn’t comment.
She still couldn’t get used to the Lamborghini, although she was better at controlling her nerves.
“You’re extra tense today,” he said, his voice casual.
“Before you start, it’s not the car,” she said. “I was just thinking about something.”
The stalker and George had been leering at her from the back of her mind no matter how she tried to not let them. She didn’t know how to shove them out of her head. Before, she’d had Chad to handle stuff like this. Most people didn’t want to mess with him, and his menacing glare had been enough to keep almost everyone away.
The fact that the stalker had found where she worked made her palms slick. It’s okay, she told herself. He’d never get to her so long as she wasn’t alone. She knew Dane would keep her safe.
As for George, he probably didn’t know where she was. And that was good enough.
She pulled out her phone and stared at the dark screen. She hadn’t turned it back on since the morning. Maybe…just possibly…he’d texted to say he was sorry. He knew she was his sister’s best friend. He’d also looked up to her father.
Keep dreaming. He knew all that before he tried to rape you.
The engine died; the interior of the car plunged into silence. She looked up and blinked at the underground parking garage. She dropped her phone into her purse. “Where are we?”
“At my penthouse,” he said. “I need to get something.”
She considered waiting for him in the car for about a nano-second, then climbed out. The last thing she wanted to do was stay in this concrete, tomb-like place alone. And she had to admit she was curious about his home. Was it as dignified as the family mansion, or was it more contemporary and chic? Maybe it was like an igloo, since he wanted people to think he was cold and unfeeling.
He entered his key code, and the lock mechanism clicked and opened. He went inside and checked an electric panel. “Feel free to look around.” He slipped into a room.
Okay, so I’ll look around. The wraparound floor-to-ceiling glass panes provided a stunning view of the city, just like he had at the office. Buildings shone like jewels while the traffic streaked the dark with bright reds and whites.
The penthouse was mostly a frosty white, with some pale blue and a dark wood that reminded her of teak flooring she’d seen overseas. There was a bare mantle over an unused gas fireplace. An enormous TV occupied most of the wall facing a couple of white leather couches. A series of glass sculptures in various vivid colors sat in niches.
As she leaned closer to examine them, Dane emerged. She almost couldn’t breathe at how amazing he looked. He’d lost his suit jacket and cufflinks; his sleeves were rolled all the way to his elbows. He’d undone a couple of buttons of his shirt, creating a V that framed his throat and chest.
She’d always thought he was way too tempting in the morning, all topless and bare muscles glistening with sweat. But this semi-casual look was even more lethal. She knew exactly what was under the shirt, and her fingers itched to undo the rest of the buttons and push the snowy fabric aside to reveal the entirety of him.
Don’t even go there. She gestured at the glass pieces. “Original?” she asked, her voice somewhat hoarse.
“Commissioned pieces.” He went to a kitchen that was all fancy stainless steel appliances and marble countertops. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the bar.”
Glad for something to do, she went over and poured herself some cold orange juice.
There was nothing personal about the space other than the sculptures. They were modern, abstract with no discernible, easy-to-describe shape. But they made her feel something—a tight restraint over overwhelming emotions.
Dane checked his oven. “Has it been on all day?” she asked, noticing the light.
“Just for the last twenty minutes or so. I can control it remotely.” He heated a big stainless steel pan on the gas stove and pulled out a package of beef from the fridge. There was also a bottle of wine that he opened and started to decant.
She sipped her juice. “What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Okay. “Let me rephrase. I thought you just wanted to pick something up. Why are you cooking? We have a reservation.”