Authors: Hannah Ford
The main course was a prime rib, followed by a
cherry tart for dessert.
The food
was delicious, the kind of food you remembered, the kind of food that wasn’t
just good, but felt like a masterpiece, served and presented in dishes and wish
flourishes and garnishes that made it feel like a work of art.
But I couldn’t concentrate on the food.
All I could concentrate on was Noah.
And what he might ask me.
He’d obviously planned this whole night, had
taken care of everything from the restaurant to the menu to the drinks.
When we’d finished our dessert, he sat back in
his chair and gazed out across the city, his expression contemplative. Every
one of my nerves was on high alert.
Was this the moment?
The
moment he was going to ask me to be his wife?
My phone rang, and I jumped.
I glanced down at the screen.
My mom.
“Is it important?” Noah asked.
“If it is, you should take it.”
“No, it’s … it’s just my mom.”
“You need to talk to her, Charlotte. I’m sure
she’s worried about you.”
“She isn’t,” I said.
“She doesn’t even know what happened.”
“You should tell her before she finds out about
it some other way.”
“Is your mother worried about you?”
He chuckled.
“My mother is not a worrier, Charlotte.”
“You mentioned something about her coming to
visit,” I said.
“Is she still going
to?”
“Yes.
I’d like you to meet her.
You won’t like her.
But I
would still like you to meet her.”
He reached over and grabbed my hand, brought my
fingers to his lips and kissed them gently.
“You need to call your mother back.
Let her know you’re okay.”
I frowned.
Was that even the truth?
Was
I okay?
I couldn’t tell.
Everything
seemed
okay.
I was here, with Noah, he was being
sweet and forthcoming and inviting me to meet his mom.
He was more relaxed than I’d ever seen
him.
He was acting romantic and
saying the right things.
I was thinking he might even ask me to marry
him.
But somehow… it was strange, but somehow it
felt
too
perfect.
Shouldn’t we be talking more about what had
happened?
About
how it was going to affect us?
Noah was acting like nothing had happened, going back to his office and eschewing
his painkillers in favor of work and fancy dinners.
“Come on,” Noah said, standing up.
He took my hand and pulled me up out of
my chair.
“I want to show you
something.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a surprise.”
That flash
again, of Noah down on one knee, asking me to marry him.
“What about the bill?
“Already taken care of, baby.”
He led me to the elevator and back out on the
streets of New York.
“It’s not far,” he said, putting his hand on my
waist as we walked.
The air was warm and heavy, and the humidity
was making my hair stick to the back of my neck.
I had the feeling it was going to rain
soon, and I hoped we’d get to wherever it was we were going before my hair
turned into a frizzy mess. The rain held off as we strolled through Manhattan,
dodging tourists and the after work drinks crowd.
“It’s only one more block,” Noah said, but I’d
stopped.
Set up on the sidewalk was a cage full of
puppies.
A sign attached to it said
NEW YORK CITY ANIMAL SHELTER ADOPTION EVENT.
A few feet away, a woman wearing a blue
polo shirt was talking to a middle-aged Asian couple, handing them a clipboard
with an application attached.
They
must have been interested in adopting one of the puppies.
One of the dogs caught me looking at him and
put his paw up against the cage, barking playfully.
I stroked his fur softly through the bars and
he wagged his tail in delight.
“How sad,” I said, feeling the emotions of
their situation well up in my chest.
“What’s sad?” Noah asked, seemingly
disinterested in the plight of the shelter dog.
“They have no homes.”
The puppy wriggled around, showing off,
laying on his back and demanding I pet his stomach.
“They’ll get homes.”
He pointed to the stack of applications
set up next to the cage, all of them filled out.
“Yeah, sure,
these
dogs will,” I
said.
“Because they’re cute and
they’re puppies.
But what about the
other ones, the adult dogs no one wants?”
I sighed.
“I always wanted a
dog.
But my mom said they made too
much of a mess and that dogs didn’t like her.
Which is ridiculous.
Dogs love everyone.”
The woman in the blue polo shirt had finished
with the Asian couple and turned to us, giving us a bright smile.
“Are you interested in a puppy?”
“Oh, no, she’s just looking,”
Noah
said.
“Don’t give her any ideas.”
He wrapped his arm around my waist and began
leading me away down the sidewalk.
“Don’t be sad, Charlotte,” he said, sensing my
sadness.
“Just think about all of
the dogs that
will
get families, how happy they’ll be.”
I began to smile in spite of myself
“See?” he said.
“It’s not sad.
It’s happy.
It’s their second chance.”
It was such
an
un-Noah
like thing to say, so out of character for him that my smile couldn’t help but
get bigger.
“I like your new attitude, Mr. Cutler,” I said.
We were coming up on a huge building, the kind
of building with mirrored windows, the kind of building that was so tall it
made you feel small and inconsequential.
Noah stood in front of it and smiled at me
proudly.
“This is it?” I asked, confused. “You wanted to
show me a building?”
“No,” Noah said, smiling devilishly. “I wanted
to show you what’s inside of it.”
He led me through the lobby to the elevator
bank.
Everything inside was shiny
and modern, with soaring beams and marble floors and ornate crown molding. The
faint scent of new paint permeated the air, leading me to believe it was new
construction.
He pushed the button for the 53
rd
floor, and we stepped out into an office.
It kind of resembled the office Noah had already, but it was bigger, the
views more sweeping.
It was like
Noah’s office on steroids.
I looked around, wondering if perhaps this was
some kind of trick.
Was someone
going to jump out from some hidden nook or cranny after Noah proposed?
My mom, his mom, some
random friends?
It didn’t
seem like Noah’s style.
Although he
liked things a certain way, and didn’t have a problem with opulence or being
over the top (evidenced by how he’d just bought out a whole restaurant for me),
he was a very private person.
I had a hard time believing he would want to
share our engagement with a bunch of people.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s a beautiful space,” I said honestly,
walking toward the windows.
The
ceilings were higher than the ones in his current office.
His other office was modern, but this
one felt even more contemporary and sophisticated, although it was hard to tell
what it would look like once it was filled with furniture and equipment.
“It’s ours,” he said.
“What?”
I turned away from the window.
He was standing there, his hands in his
pockets, and for the first time, I saw Noah look shy.
His face was hopeful, like he really
wanted me to be impressed with what he was showing me.
“I mean, if you want it,” he said.
“I’m expanding my business and I want
you to be my partner.”
“What?” I asked again.
I shook my head, not sure exactly what
he was talking about.
“But I’m not
even a lawyer yet.”
“But you will be,” he said.
“And until then, you can work here, for
me.
Once you pass the bar, we’ll
get your name on the door.
Partner.
Right away.”
Partner.
The word echoed through my brain.
It was the holy grail of law, the thing
lawyers toiled away for years to achieve, the long hours and sleepless nights
all for the greater good of making partner.
“But why… why would you do that?” I asked.
Noah had never taken a partner.
He had lawyers who’d worked for him for
years who he hadn’t made partner, lawyers who’d proven themselves far better
than I had.
“Because it’s us,” he said.
“I want to be with you every second, I
want the two of us to build something together.”
He crossed the room and took my hands in
his, the light from the city washing over his strong features.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“It feels a little strange.
I haven’t… I haven’t earned it.”
“Please, Charlotte,” he said.
“Say yes.”
He moved closer to me, his lips inches from
mine, his mouth tempting me.
“What will you give me?” I flirted.
“A partnership in my firm isn’t enough?” he
flirted back.
“Not if you have something else to offer.”
“I have this.”
He kissed me softly on the side of my
neck, and longing flooded my body.
“What else?”
“This.”
His lips moved to my collarbone, and his mouth grazed my skin, sending
heat roaring through my body.
“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Cutler.”
“Oh, you have no idea, Ms. Holloway.”
“If I say yes,” I said, as his hands found the
tie on my dress and tugged on it gently.
“Does that mean you’ll be my boss?”
“Technically, yes.”
He had my dress completely open now, and
his hands slid down the curve of my hip and over my ass.
“So I have to do whatever you say?”
“Yes.”
“And what do I get out of it, again?”
“This.”
His hands moved to the front of my panties, dipping inside the waistband
before moving further and spreading my folds, his fingers finding my clit and
rubbing it gently.
I groaned.
“Is that a yes?” he asked me with a wicked
grin.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“How long do I have to think about it?”
“Five seconds.”
“Five seconds?” I repeated.
“That’s not even the length of a good
commercial.”
“Five…” he warned, his index finger curling
inside of me.
He kissed me, sucking
softly on my bottom lip as he pulled away, teasing me.
“Four…” He reached down and grabbed my
ass, picked me up like I was nothing.
I giggled and wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the
lone desk that was in the room.
He sat me down and kneeled in front of me.
“Three…” he warned, reaching up and pulling my
panties off.
My knees trembled, my body shuddering
deliciously at the thought of what was coming.
Sure enough, he reached up and pushed my
legs apart.
“Two.”
His voice was gruff now, commanding.
“One.”
His mouth pushed into my pussy, his tongue taking me.
I groaned and leaned back as he continued, not
letting up, his mouth and fingers working inside of me, teasing my clit,
rubbing
against me.
“Time’s up, Ms. Holloway,” he growled as he
stood up.
“I don’t know if I have enough information,” I
said saucily.