Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sofia
I thought I’d thought of everything, but now that the cell phone I’d put in the name of Andrew’s shell company was ringing, I panicked. I didn’t have a receptionist to answer the call on my behalf.
“Breathe,” I heard Andrew’s voice say in my head. I answered the phone. It was a cell number. No one expected a receptionist to answer a cell number.
“Sofia Rossi.” Unlike Andrew’s gruff, bordering on rude telephone manner, I tried to sound bright and confident.
“This is Mr. Goode’s office.” I knew that already. They were the only one with the number. “I’m calling to set up a meeting between you and Mr. Goode.”
“Wonderful. Let me bring up my diary. When is Mr. Goode free?”
“At the moment he’s in the U.S. on business and he’s not expected back until the twenty-second.”
The twenty-second? Could she mean three weeks away?
Andrew was impatient for this deal to be done.
He’d been stalking the office like a caged lion since we’d put in the offer yesterday.
There was no way he’d survive three weeks.
As far as he was concerned, he’d wanted to submit on Friday—but I’d convinced him we should wait for the office space we were leasing to be furnished, just in case Goode investigated more closely.
Waiting three weeks just wasn’t an option.
“I’m in New York on business this month,” I said. “Perhaps we could coordinate something while I’m over there?”
“Please hold.”
Would Andrew kill me for organizing a meeting three thousand miles away? No, this was the right thing to do. He’d gone to so much time, money, and effort to set up this shell company.
I held for what seemed like hours before Mr. Goode’s assistant came back.
“Mr. Goode is in New York on Friday. Are you available?”
I held the phone away from me so she couldn’t hear my panicked breathing or the thump of my heartbeat telling me I was an idiot for doing this without Andrew’s permission.
“I’m free for lunch, if that works?”
“He’ll be available at twelve. Please send details of the restaurant.”
Shit.
It was only ten thirty, but I had to interrupt Andrew’s Ashtanga practice. If I was about to get fired for agreeing to a meeting on another continent, I’d rather know now.
I knocked on the door and just went straight in. I glanced the length of his office, half expecting to see his tight ass in downward dog, before finding him behind his desk, just like he always was.
“I just got a call,” I said.
He stayed completely silent while I told him I’d managed to get a lunch in the diary on Friday. In New York.
“So book our flights,” he responded.
“You want to come too?” I hadn’t thought past hoping Andrew didn’t lose it for agreeing to meet Goode in the US.
Logistics hadn’t crossed my mind. We were going to travel together?
Was he going to ignore me the entire time?
Or was James, the man who existed whenever Andrew was out of the office, going to accompany me?
I supposed I should just be grateful that he hadn’t yelled for agreeing to a meeting across an ocean.
“Of course. This is my deal. My money. This should be my meeting. I’m not going to leave you to wing it. We’ll need to prepare. Debrief and regroup. This is good news, Sofia. But it’s only the beginning.”
I grabbed on to the back of one of the visitor chairs opposite his desk to steady myself.
Sofia.
Andrew had never called me by name before.
James had. Usually when he was naked and fucking me.
Hearing it from Andrew’s lips seemed to tilt the floor and left me unsteady on my feet.
Normally I could separate Andrew from James without any trouble.
Andrew was moody, monosyllabic, and down-right rude most of the time—even if he had a nice ass and a sexy smirk.
James was . . . different. He was considered and deliberate in everything he did.
He knew what he wanted and how he wanted me.
He was sultry and sensuous and seemed to have put a spell on my vagina.
James saw me. Craved me. Cared about my pleasure.
I wanted to go to New York with James. But I’d be booking a plane ticket for Andrew.