Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I take a bite of my tuna Nicoise salad and pretend not to notice Ian’s scrutiny.
“He’s irritable,” Ian announces.
I nip a green bean cleanly with my front teeth. “Who?”
My best friend’s look is withering. “Really?”
Fine. I sigh and set aside my fork. “I’m sorry Cannon’s acting like a juvenile, but it’s really not my problem. I sent him an email letting him know that I’d be happy to continue our working relationship through the end of the contract despite our personal entanglements. He’s yet to take me up on the offer.”
“An email,” Ian repeats. “You two make love and war like both are going out of style for the better part of the past God knows how many years, and you sit there and tell me you sent him an email?”
“What do you want me to do here, Ian? What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to tell me what happened.”
I sip my soda. “Ask him.”
“I did ask him. Kennedy asked him. Kate asked him. Half the office thinks he received a six-months-to-live sentence from his doctor, that’s how unhappy he’s been.”
“And that’s my fault because . . . ?”
Ian throws up his hands in frustration. “I swear, I don’t know why I try to talk to either of you.”
“Well, I just don’t see why I’m supposed to shoulder the blame for Matt’s irritability. Maybe it’s work related. Has he heard anything on the Jarod front?”
I keep my voice casual, careful not to betray the real reason I agreed to meet Ian for lunch. It’s not that I don’t enjoy my best friend, but as I said, seeing Ian makes me think of Matt, and, well, lately . . . that’s painful as all get out.
Ian’s eyebrows lift at my question. “Jarod? You and the world’s most famous billionaire are on a first-name basis?”
I fiddle with my fork, knowing that I’m going to have to rip this Band-Aid off sometime. Might as well be now.
“He’s been in touch.”
Okay, so I chickened out a little bit. That’s the truth but not the whole truth. We’ll get to that part later.
Ian reaches across the table and snags an olive from my plate. “You and Lanham have been in touch . . . how?”
“Mr. Lanham got my email and reached out.”
Ian sits back in his chair. “Ten seconds ago, he was ‘Jarod.’ You can’t go all formal on me now.”
“I can do whatever I want.”
“Cut the bullshit, Sabrina. You’re the most direct person I know, so this whole cagey thing isn’t suiting you.”
I swallow, a little stung by the rebuke, even though I know it was well deserved. “Jarod wants to hire me,” I say, sipping my soda.
“For what?”
“That’s between him and me.”
“Sabrina—”
I hold up a hand. “No, I draw the line there. I don’t share my clients’ requests with anyone, even you. You’d expect the same privacy if you hired me.”
“I have hired you,” he points out. “You got me the best lawyer in the city when I needed one.”
“I did that because you’re my best friend,” I say, waving my hand. “The point is, when someone asks for my help, I’m a vault.”
“But the whole group knows about your ruse with Cannon.”
“Because it was half your idea,” I point out. “Had Matt come to me for help on his own and asked me to keep it between us, I wouldn’t have told a soul.”
“Not even me?” Ian gives his best smile.
“Not even you, you pain in the ass.”
“You and your pesky professional ethics,” he says, shaking his head. “Okay, fine, don’t tell me what Lanham wants. Can you at least tell me what happened between you and Matt? As a friend?”
I hesitate, then realize that though I don’t particularly want to talk about it, maybe I need to. Goodness knows trying to bury it deep and pretend it doesn’t exist hasn’t been serving me well for the past week. I’m not sleeping, I’m barely eating . . .
I take a deep breath and look up. “It would seem I fell in love with the idiot.”
I’m prepared for Ian’s shock, but I see none. Instead he gives me a sympathetic smile. “Yeah. I figured.”
“Did you?” I murmur. “Might have been nice if you would’ve mentioned it. To me.”
“Yeah, I can just imagine how well that conversation would have gone.”
I lift my elbows to the table and drop my head tiredly into my hands. “How did this happen? Why did this happen?”
Ian smiles slightly. “Does he know how you feel?”
I nod once, not particularly wanting to relive the moment in which I admitted my feelings and Matt did . . . nothing.
“And?”
I lift my head, not quite able to tell him about Matt’s proposal, but I say enough to give him the gist. “He suggested. . . sex. Companionship . . .”