She in turn eyes Brad Waters, Mr. Money, power, and good looks, in an expensive suit, and then looks at me. “Work?”
“Oh yes,” I assure her. “And not a pleasant meeting either. That’s why I picked here. You can be my bodyguard. I’ll take my normal coffee. No cupcake right now. The last thing I need is to try and eat in front of this man.”
“You got it, honey,” she says. “I’ll bring it over. Good luck.”
I turn and bring Brad into full view. He motions toward a table. We both walk in that direction and sit down. I slide out of my coat, settling it on the back of my chair. He’s not wearing one of his own. Perhaps the entire idea of taking it on and off feels weak to him. I think it must. On that note, I don’t bother to offer him coffee. He’s the kind of guy you could insult by assuming he can’t handle his own drink requests. His eyes are gray. That’s the first thing I think when I meet his stare. A cold gray. Icy. Brutal.
“You look like her,” he observes.
I blanch when I shouldn’t. I mean it’s not the first time the comparison has been made. It’s just the flat way he announces his own observation, without so much as a greeting.
“Not really,” I say, recovering from his unexpected remark. “I’ve seen her photos. Our colorings are the same. That’s about all.”
“And your name.”
“I go by Allie.”
“But you were born Allison.” He doesn’t give me time to confirm the obvious. “Are you her sister?”
Obviously, he’s now questioning all he thought he knew about Allison. “No. We’re not sisters.”
I steel myself for him to ask why I lied about such a thing. Instead, he asks simply, “Do you know where she is?”
“No,” I say, watching him for a reaction, as I add, “and she seems to have walked away from Hawk Legal in a firm way. She doesn’t even return messages.”
“My experience as well.”
“I know you’re a client of Hawk Legal, Mr. Waters,” I say.
He folds his hands together in front of me and my gaze goes to his pinky finger, seeking the ring on Allison’s Instagram, but it’s not there. “I’m sure Tyler told you that and plenty more,” he assumes.
My gaze jerks from his hand to his icy gray eyes. “Tyler told me nothing. I’m resourceful on my own.”
“Gossip gets around,” he says, clearly jabbing at my resourcefulness.
I slide right by that remark. “I hardly call the staff knowing a high-profile client, gossip. Who are you to Allison?”
His eyes darken. “No one she would walk away from.”
“Because you’re rich and powerful?” I challenge.
“Because I’m an asshole she couldn’t possibly want for more than money and power?” he counters.
His expression is unreadable but there is something about the inflection in his voice, the darkening of his eyes that tells a story I cannot quite read. In that moment, I wonder if the man in the journal could be him, not Tyler. Except that in the journal the man left her, not the other way around. Unless, the tide shifted, and she got tired of his games and walked away herself.
“I know nothing about you,” I say.
“I’m all over the press.”
I think of Dash’s fight coverage Bella set up and say, “I have no doubt. But none of that is the real you.”
Adrianna sets my coffee down next to me and then eyes Brad. “Can I get you something, sir?”
“Nothing,” he says, and to my surprise, he looks at her and says, “Thank you.”
It’s the first sign I’ve had that this man is human, and I’m not quite sure how to define him now more than ever.
Adrianna smiles at him and walks away. Brad reaches in his pocket and sets a card in front of me. “If you talk to her, text me. I’ll pay you well for the contact.”
“I don’t want your money. And I don’t know if she wants to make contact. But I’ll tell her how much you do.”
He studies me several beats and then inclines his chin. He starts to rise but hesitates, long enough to meet my stare and say, “You have her eyes,” before he’s on his feet, striding away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I watch Brad Waters exit the coffee shop, with his words in my head: You have her eyes.
I’m officially creeped out. I shake off the meeting and when I face forward again, it’s to realize that Dash is now standing above me on the opposite side of the table. “Hi,” I say, blinking him into view, only to realize that aside from looking like a tall, delicious drink of hotness, he’s scowling.
He sits down in front of me. “What the hell was that, Allie?”
“He called and—”
“He called and the guy who creeped you out convinced you to meet him? And you didn’t call me?”