Chapter Twelve
Emma
I bite into my meatball sub, savoring the tangy sauce and melted cheese. These subs are one of my guilty pleasures, and Clifton knows it. The food paired with the tall iced coffee that”s the perfect mix of sweet and smooth leaves me feeling like he knows exactly what I need - even if I don’t know.
Since we”re both shoving food into our mouths, we”re not talking, but that doesn”t matter. I don”t feel the need to fill every second of silence with awkward conversation.
I’m comfortable around him.
I enjoy his company.
And I”m starting to think he enjoys mine.
I glance at him and catch his green eyes on me. Without a word, he flashes a charming smile and I’m struck in the moment. He’s so damn good looking with his dark hair, his bright eyes, his strong jawline, and that heart-melting grin.
There”s no way I can deny that I have a crush on him. Especially now that all I can think about are the two times that he kissed me and how he was about to kiss me just a few minutes ago. Once again, I find myself wondering why his father had such a problem with him. Sure, the guy got into a few scuffles, but knowing him better now, I can only imagine he had reasons, he just didn’t share them.
“Why did you get into that fight?” Maybe now that we”ve built up a bit of a rapport and he trusts me, he”ll let me have a deeper peek into his inner workings and what makes him tick... or ticked off.
He hesitates, going completely still for a moment right down to his jaw freezing mid chew. When he starts moving again, he lowers his food and stares at the foil wrapping on his sub, thoughtfully finishing his bite before glancing into my eyes again.
“Why do you want to know?” he asks in a low voice.
I’m not sure how to tell Clifton I want to get to know more about him without putting him on the defensive.
“Just curious,” I say as nonchalantly as possible while picking up my iced coffee to take a drink of the creamy chocolaty goodness.
He sets his sub down, wiping his mouth with a napkin before leaning back in his chair as if unsure where to start. “Camdon and I go way back.”
The familiar way he says the man’s name leaves no doubt about his words, and I lean in, interested. This certainly changes the narrative I’d known about the fight and why it happened.
“He and I didn’t get along in school; we were rivals. He beat me out for top of class by point zero one percent on our grades because he’d done some extra credit I hadn’t known was available. He laughed about my mom’s death and told me she didn’t love me enough to beat cancer, that she didn’t want to live with me and chose to die instead, all the worst things you can imagine a kid saying to another.” He looks out the window of our office, but I can see he’s not present in the moment with me - he’s back in memories of the past. “That’s awful,” I whisper.
Clifton lifts a shoulder. “And when we got older, he liked to try to steal any romantic partner I was interested in. And this time, he stole my ex-girlfriend. She cheated on me with him, and they got married.”
I sense that saying the words feels like a punch to his gut, and I suddenly feel bad for my previous jokes. “I’m sorry I made jokes-”
He lifts a hand and cuts me off. “I know you had no ill intent, and you’re funny. You make me smile.”
Something about that admission has my cheeks burning and my heart fluttering.
“Well, they both sound awful and you’re lucky to be free of them. And they have each other.” I shrug. “Once a cheater, always a cheater - she’s just going to do to him what she did to you.”
“That hadn”t occurred to me,” he says in a thoughtful tone.
There are so many things I want to say, so much to dissect about what he shared. But I also don’t want to push him. He’ll expand on what he’s told me when he’s ready, at his own pace; I’m not going to demand answers or information.
“Thank you for sharing,” I say instead.
“Of course.” He says the words in a contemplative tone that makes me wonder what he’s thinking now.
My mind drifts back to how he’d nearly kissed me, and my heart plays hopscotch in my chest at the memory. I wanted him to kiss me.
I didn’t care that we might have gotten caught. I didn’t care that his dad might not approve. I didn’t want to destroy my career, however. But I wanted him to kiss me again.
“I think it’s your turn to tell me something,” he says, suddenly snapping back to the reality of the moment. I nod my head.
“Anything,” I say. I don’t have many secrets - I consider myself a bit of an open book. But he surprises me once again.
“What are your plans for the future?”
I want to unpack the fact that he’d steered widely clear of the past by focusing on the future. I’m not used to people looking forward; most prefer to know where I come from. It’s refreshing that he’d like to know where I plan to go instead. But the question also trips me up, because it’s not one I have to answer often.
“I think I’d like to start my own firm one day. Maybe move to a new city.” I wonder if that’s just a pipe dream, but I don’t want to beat myself down for a possibly unachievable dream.
He nods his head. “And outside of work?”
I let out a soft laugh. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” But I had, a long time ago.
“I sense some hesitation there,” he says with that deeply perceptive look that might be able to peer deep into my soul, I don’t know.
I decide to tell him the truth. “I was engaged,” I say, folding my hands in my lap, my sub forgotten, my heart still tender from the past. “It didn’t work out.” How do I explain the depths of hell I went through? How my family all took his side and turned their backs on me?
Clifton rolls his chair closer to me and his warm hand covers my freezing fingers. His other hand touches my chin, lifting my head to face me dead on, and he stares into my eyes as he speaks. “He was a fool,” he says.
“Well, you’re the only one who thinks that. He turned my family and most of my friends against me.” Katie is really my only friend anymore. Despite the pain of the truth, I realize the past doesn”t sting as much as it used to.
He seems surprised. “I’m sorry you went through that.” His words are oddly comforting.
“Enough about me, it’s your turn. Same question you asked me.” I do my best to perk up, realizing that his hand is still on mine, lending me strength and warmth.
But he shakes his head. “I have no future. My dad will hold things over my head and force me to do his bidding. And when he dies, I’ll have to carry on his legacy.” There’s something so broken in his voice I ache for him.
“You always have a choice,” I say.
He shakes his head. “If I leave, I go directly to a jail cell.” As he says the words, many things fall into place. The reason Anton had handed Clifton off to me, the way the man’s file and the man don’t line up in my eyes, the odd control Anton has over his son’s charges while keeping a facade of being hands off.
“I’m sorry you”re going through that,” I say.
He offers me a slight smile that doesn”t reach his eyes. “Thank you,” he says.
As we study one another, his lips part. I reach out, slipping a hand behind his neck while throwing myself into his lap and pressing my lips to his.
He kisses me back, his tongue sliding along the seam of my lips and demanding entrance. I let him in, meeting him partway and loving his playful-yet-serious style. Heat sears through my body, demanding more, but I refuse to listen to my body.
We are already taking a huge risk just kissing.
My phone chimes and I pull back, feeling guilty as I look at the screen. It’s a text... from Sterling. My eyebrows knit together as I slide back into my seat and unlock my phone.
Have you had lunch?
Why does he care? Or, better yet, why is he pretending to care?
Clifton moves away, picking up his food and taking a bite, clears his throat, and takes a drink of his coffee.
I did, thanks.I might as well be diplomatic, even if my first thought is to ghost him like he’d done to me for weeks. Maybe he’d get the hint with my clipped response.
He doesn”t. He texts again and I pick up my phone, already annoyed. Can I take you to dinner?
I roll my eyes, annoyed. Why is he suddenly trying so hard after giving me the silent treatment for weeks?
I have plans. I don’t, but he doesn”t need to know that.
“Is everything okay?” Clifton asks as I put my phone down a bit harder than intended on my desk. I glance at him, unsure what to say. He gestures at my phone and I let out a sigh, unwilling to talk about my crazy ex’s new tactic.
Instead, I change the subject. “Thank you for lunch. Iced coffee is exactly the pick-me-up I needed.” I pick up my drink and take the straw between my lips.
“You’re very welcome.” He gives his coffee cup a shake, rattling the ice before taking another drink. But I wasn”t paying attention to any of that. I was looking at his hand, large and powerful, and wondering how it would feel on me. I glance at his lips, imagining them kissing down my body and a low humming heats up my core.
“Are you okay?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at me as if fully aware of my body short circuiting while thinking about him. Before I can respond, my phone chimes again. And again.
Annoyed, I pick it up and set it to silent mode.
And it begins to buzz.
“Maybe you should answer that?” Clifton asks.
I shake my head no as my phone buzzes again.
“You sure are popular.” There’s a smirk on his face as he says the words that tell me he knows exactly who is messaging and he finds the situation funny.
“At least someone is messaging me,” I say, resorting back to our teasing fun, turning my phone off to avoid the barrage of messages.
His eyebrows race for his hairline and he instantly quips back. “Sterling is only texting you because there’s another man in your life and he can’t handle rejection or competition.”
Damn. He really nailed Sterling in that one statement. The guy can’t handle competition, and we’d all seen how he dealt with not being the only man on my mind.
But those thoughts took a backseat to the realization that Clifton had said something very interesting.
I said there was another man in my life... referring to himself.
He sees himself as a man in my life.
He just admitted he likes me and my body revs up, excited at this confirmation. This was yet another signal from him, a door he’d opened and offered me to walk through. And oh, man do I want to. I stand up and make my way to him, leaning down and coming face to face with him.
“There’s another man in my life, huh?” I ask.
A slight smile tugs the corners of his lips.
Then he closes the gap between us, kissing me again. And this time, nothing interrupts us.