“Where did you go before? One minute you were with us talking, and the next, you were in your head.”
I leaned back on the edge of the table, creating a little space between us but interlacing my fingers with hers. Telling Lourde about my past was one thing, but having her think of me as a monster was something that could break us, and I just couldn’t let that happen.
“All you need to know is that my past wasn’t rainbows and unicorns. You know about my sister, Evelyn, needing care, and my parents are dead. Memories just come back, sometimes when I least expect it.”
Her face softened. “Barrett, I’m here for you. I just wish you’d open up.”
“Maybe one day, but right now, all I need is you. You’re the light to my dark, Lourde.” I leaned in, tilting her chin up and brushing my lips across hers. I gripped her waist with the other hand, pressing her into my groin.
She wrapped her hands around my neck and deepened the kiss before suddenly pulling away.
“Barrett, we shouldn’t,” she said, smoothing down her skirt and taking a step back.
“No one knows anything,” I said, adjusting myself.
Her gaze lowered to the bulge in my pants.
“I think Olivia might suspect something.”
“Nonsense.” But even I doubted my own words. “Speaking of Olivia, you better go. I think she’s heading out to Brooklyn, and I’m late for my next meeting.”
“Whoops, see, you're a distraction! By the way, did you hear back from the detectives about the fire at 21 Park?”
“Yes, Detective Summer called. All evidence definitely points to arson.”
“Damn, do they have any leads?”
“It’s sold, so it’s not really my problem, but it leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth. I've got my team investigating.”
“Your team?”
“From a young age, I’ve learned to only rely on myself, so if I need to find something out, it's on me, no one else. “
“So you have your own CSI squad?”
“Not quite. I have my two main guys, Jesse is ex-CIA, and Barton is ex-military, and if we need anything further, we have plenty of resources.”
“I see. Well, luckily, no one was hurt. Let me know if I can help. I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
“I know. Hey, can we have dinner tonight?”
“I’d love that, but I’ve got the movers over at Tribeca moving me in, so I should probably unpack tonight.”
“Girl’s gotta eat. Let me bring over some takeout? I’d offer to cook, but I don’t want you getting food poisoning.”
“Me neither, and I’d love that, Barrett.” She smiled, and the darkness inside disappeared for a moment.
“Okay, I really should go. I don’t want Olivia thinking I’m slacking off on day one!”
She let go of my hands, but I pulled her back into me for a long kiss goodbye.
“To be continued tonight,” I said with hooded eyes.
“Yes, please,” she whispered before disappearing out of my office.
* * *
As the elevator ascended to Lourdes’ apartment, I reflected on my last meeting of the day with my lawyers discussing the purchase of a Hamptons hotel. The trio of board members—Simon, Cary, and John—tried everything to wriggle out of the deal. They knew I had them by the balls when my team uncovered millions missing from the hotel and covered it up by firing hundreds of staff, sighting losses. Their indiscretions caught up with them in the end, and they finally relinquished, now signing it over for a steal.
The elevator doors opened, and I walked out carrying the two large paper bags of takeout I picked up on the way over. Not knowing what Lourde felt like eating, I basically ordered the entire menu from Nobu.
Like clouds unmasking pure sunshine, Lourde appeared around the corner in matching peach sweats and her golden-brown hair dusting the tips of her shoulders. “I’ve missed you.” I put the bags down on the kitchen counter, and when I turned, she wrapped her arms around my neck, pushing her mouth to mine in a breathless kiss.
I groaned in response. “Have you? Do you know how hard it was concentrating at that desk?”
She giggled. “Maybe I ought to buy you a new desk then.”
I pulled her close, so my cheek rested against hers, and my mouth grazed the shell of her ear. “Don't you dare.” She pulled me tighter in response, her breath heavy. After a few more moments, we came up for air.
“Nice place.” It was a cozy apartment with luxurious finishes, oak floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows over the Hudson River. Spread out on the floor beside half-pieced-together furniture were ornaments, books, and candles packaged in bubble wrap. Most of her things had already been unpacked with only a handful of items remaining.
It made me think back to my first apartment when I moved to Manhattan. Small was being too kind. Rusty taps, barely running water, peeling walls, and exposing moldy walls summed it up. But it was better than the long commute back home to Providence each day to see Evelyn or the crummy hostel in Manhattan where I slept when I was too exhausted to go back to Boston.