Chapter 16 #2
I didn’t like that. It filled me with the urge to take her to all my favorite places.
I would love to take her to my Italian restaurant in the City.
I could almost feel her in my arms at my favorite hole-in-the-wall jazz club in New Orleans, or her hand in mine as we strolled down the streets of Paris.
I had to stop myself before I got out of hand. This was not a real marriage. It could not be. She had agreed to six months, and I was not looking to marry. Yet as I looked into her eyes, I was filled with the desire to kiss her again, and not the tiny peck we had shared in my office.
She gasped, and I almost jumped out of my seat.
“This is my favorite part of the movie!”
“You almost gave me a—”
“Shhh!”
“Did you just shush me?” I asked incredulously, but she ignored me.
She was fully facing the TV, so I couldn’t see her face, but now her body was pressed against me as well.
I maneuvered my arm to the back of the couch.
We sat there watching the movie. Well . .
. she was watching the movie. My attention was on her.
I couldn't stop watching the way she smiled at certain points.
She even mouthed the words to certain parts.
I felt every point of contact between us sear into my skin. I had not touched someone like this for longer than I cared to think about. I closed my eyes, trying to control my thoughts.
That was when I felt her head thud on my shoulder.
I looked down at her; she had fallen asleep. As the minutes ticked on, she melted into me. Her features were soft as she relaxed. This wasn’t a side of Belle I’d seen. She was usually either bright and laughing or guarded and sarcastic. I found both sides of her alluring, but this was irresistible.
Her breathing was steady as I continued to gaze at her. I tucked a small brown curl behind her ear. She deserved more than the hand life had dealt her. She deserved more than surviving in a van with a man like Tripp as her boss.
I wanted to show her the world, but that was not what we were. This was an arrangement.
My phone buzzed on the table. I ignored it as I kept my gaze pinned to this beautiful woman in my arms.
I had a beautiful woman in my arms. It shouldn’t be the revelation it is. It had been so long since . . .
My phone buzzed again. This time, I moved slightly to check it. I needed to steer clear of that specific line of thought.
Chandler - I got an email asking about the gala. They said you had not gotten back to them.
I hadn’t been paying any attention to work since Belle’s injury. I hadn’t been paying enough attention to work since she came into my life, yet oddly, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Is everything okay?” she asked with a sleepy voice as she lifted her head.
I was tempted to tell her to go back to sleep and rest against me as long as she wanted, but I did have to get some work done.
“Just work,” I said as I rested my phone on the table.
She sat up and yawned. “I fell asleep.”
“That you did.”
“How long was I out?” she asked as she gazed at the TV, which I had already shut off.
“Not long.”
She yawned and stretched, and it was . . . cute. God help me, it was cute. What had my life become?
“I think I’m going to get to bed. Physical therapy is more exhausting than derby practice some days.”
I helped her gather her things. By the time I brought up her ice pack, she was already in bed reading a book.
“Good night, Belle. If you need anything, call me.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
I walked to her door to leave, but I couldn’t help but turn around and look at her one more time. What was I doing? I gave her a nod and shut the door behind me. I returned to my study with my laptop, attempting to focus on renovation reports from Columbus.
My phone rang just after nine.
“Renault,” I answered.
A brief pause.
“Mr. Renault, this is Tripp Whitaker. I own the cleaning service you utilize.”
His tone was smooth.
“Yes,” I replied. “What can I do for you, Mr Whitaker?”
“Please, call me Tripp. I just wanted to check in to make sure you were satisfied with our services."
I already hated this guy, but I let him continue.
“I understand your girl sustained an injury,” he continued. “I just need to ensure her ability to perform the job hasn’t been compromised.”
I leaned back in my chair. Your girl. This guy could fuck off.
“Belle is exceptional,” I said evenly. “Her work is meticulous. She is extremely reliable.”
There was a slight hesitation on the other end.
“I’m sure she does her best, but she has been known to—” he said.
“She exceeds expectations.” I didn’t know what he was about to say, but I knew I didn’t want to hear him disparage her.
Silence.
I continued before he could regain his footing.
“If your concern is productivity, I can assure you it remains intact. If your concern is liability, she is managing her recovery appropriately under medical guidance.”
Another pause.
“I simply need to protect the company,” he said.
“Of course,” I replied smoothly. “Competent leadership prioritizes retaining high-performing employees during temporary setbacks.”
“Well,” he cleared his throat. “We value her contributions.”
“Then we are done,” I said, abruptly ending the call.
I lowered the phone and sat back.
Whitaker.
I pulled up a quick search for his father, Alistair Whitaker. He was in industrial manufacturing. He sat on many boards and was known for his philanthropic work. Yet, he was also known for looking the other way on the workers' complaints about the conditions in his own warehouses.
Then there was Tripp Whitaker. He, on the other hand, was known for minor scandals, short-lived ventures, and a pattern of leadership positions acquired through inheritance rather than competence.
I studied the photo on the screen. This was the screw-up-son. The one given opportunities instead of earning them. And he had cornered my wife in a parking lot while she was on crutches.
I closed the laptop slowly.
My irritation cooled into something sharper. I was filled with a calculated rage. If Tripp Whitaker believed he could leverage this against Belle, he was mistaken.
I rose from the desk and walked quietly down the hall.
Her door was slightly ajar. She was asleep, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, the other still clutching the book she’d fallen asleep reading. The brace was visible under the soft lamplight. She looked peaceful.
I walked quietly into the room, gently taking the book from her hands and placing the bookmark where she’d been before setting it on the nightstand.
I stood there for a moment longer than necessary.
“She is exceptional, in every way,” I murmured quietly to myself.
I intended to protect her in any way I could.