Chapter 5
FIVE
CORA
“I’m sorry about that, but I do think this deal will go through,” I say to Sebastian just as I hear the door open. When I glance over my shoulder, Arlo is standing there, looking intimidating, as he waits for me to finish up.
“He is…”
“Intense,” I finish with a smile.
“Yes, I guess you can say that,” Sebastian muses.
Sebastian works for me, and he’s been trying to sell this property for quite some time without any luck.
“I have to go, but I can call later once I get the final details,” I tell him.
He gives me a nod and steps in for a hug. I hear the door slam shut, and we pull apart as we turn to look. Arlo’s still standing there, sunglasses covering what I can only assume is a glare in our direction.
“Just be careful, okay?” Sebastian whispers, and I nod slightly before I turn and make my way to Arlo, who holds the door open for me as we walk out.
“Not too careful,” Arlo says in a low voice, and I hear him crack his knuckles before he slides his sunglasses on his head.
Jesus! I come to an abrupt halt, take a deep breath as my pulse quickens, and choose not to look his way.
I gather myself quickly and keep walking, hoping he doesn’t read too much into my reaction.
When we reach the car, Arlo gives my driver a nod and mentions a restaurant before he walks over and holds the door open while my driver heads to the driver’s side.
I step up to get in, and immediately, he’s closer, crowding me, while his gaze is just as intense and unwavering as ever.
When I don’t move, only raise my brows at him, he finally steps to the side, his expression alight with something that flickers between confusion and interest.
After I slide in, he follows and leans down, strapping me in—his hand brushing over my body as he pulls the seatbelt across me and clicks it into place. The closeness brings our faces nearer than before, his breath mingling with mine for a beat too long.
The car starts to move, and I sit there, my pulse pounding so hard it’s a miracle he can’t hear it. I force myself to stay still, trying my best to appear unaffected, as if he doesn’t rattle me to my core.
“I can have the paperwork sent to you this afternoon,” I tell him as I pull out my phone and email my assistant to get started, mostly to keep my hands busy.
“I’d prefer to have it hand-delivered,” he says.
I pause my typing to look at him. Strange that he didn’t bother with his own seatbelt, but he was sure to do up mine. His sunglasses are still on his head, and he’s sitting up straight, and his head is tilted so he can see me.
“I won’t have time this weekend to do it myself,” I tell him. “But I can arrange for someone to hand-deliver it to you.”
“Not negotiable. I will have you hand-deliver it. No one else. Or the deal is off.” He pauses, waiting for me to speak, and when I don’t reply quickly enough, he adds, “I’ll add one million to the deal for you to deliver it.”
I bite my bottom lip. “Why?” He throws money around like it’s confetti.
“Let’s just say… I enjoy doing business with you.”
The car slows and stops in front of a restaurant that doesn’t appear to be open, but Arlo gets out anyway. Then he walks around to my side of the car and opens my door before my driver can get to it. I watch as Matty stands there, confused, before deciding to lean against the car and just wait.
I step out, and Arlo offers me his arm, but I don’t take it.
I follow him to the entrance, and that’s when I realize this is probably one of his restaurants.
A light flicks on inside, and suddenly, the door is pulled open by someone on the other side, who says, “Mr. Graves, we have everything set up at your table.”
Already set up? I don’t recall him making a phone call.
We enter the dimly lit space, shadows clinging to the walls like secrets.
My gaze sweeps over the restaurant as I offer a polite smile to the server.
Rich, dark tones dominate the room, with mahogany tables gleaming under the soft flicker of candlelight and leather booths tucked into corners.
Ornate chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, their crystals catching the glow and casting a sultry shimmer over everything.
They’re larger than the ones in some of the luxury homes I sell—opulent, dramatic, and designed to impress.
The whole place hums with a quiet, sensual energy.
We weave our way through the dining room, and that’s when I notice that only one table is set, and food is already placed on top of it.
Arlo pulls out a chair for me, and as I sit, he pushes it in. I thank him as he makes his way to his seat.
“My chef made the things I love. Eat and enjoy.” He waves a hand at the table, and I keep my hands in my lap. I want to eat, but my nerves are getting the better of me right now.
“Why am I here, Arlo?”
“Do you not have lunch or dinners with your clients, Cora?” The way he says my name is intentional.
“I do, but not in private, and always to discuss business. Is that why we’re here, to discuss more business?” I ask.
He picks up his glass of water and then reclines in his seat. “I want to propose something to you.” He looks me in the eyes, as if he is waiting for a reaction from me. I don’t give him one.
“Okay.”
“I want to fuck you.”
I sit perfectly still, stunned.
Hell, I’m not even sure if I’m breathing right now.
“I can assure you that you will enjoy it.” He says it with such confidence that he believes I will, even though he hardly knows me at all.
“You know what I enjoy, do you?” I should have just said no, and he knows it. One corner of his lips quirks up before lowering back into place.
“I have a pretty good idea. Most women want the same thing… a release. And men are known to be selfish animals in that regard. I can assure you—I am not.” He’s so sure of himself that I actually believe him. And I hate that I do.
Averting my gaze to the food in front of me just so I don’t have to stare at him, I try to think of a reply. I can’t say I have ever had a man proposition me quite like this before. It’s intimidating, and yet it causes something to come alive in me.
“I’m seeing someone,” I blurt out. “So, this is inappropriate.” Gripping my purse in my hand, I stand up, and he does as well. “I have to go, but as I said, papers will be coming your way.”
“And you will be delivering them?” His face is hard from my confession.
“Yes.”
“Good. Think about my other offer.”
I pause, take a deep breath, and choose not to say another word. Just as I go to step past him, he moves into my path.
“It was a pleasure, Cora Ashford. I look forward to our next meeting.” Waving a hand, he steps out of my way and lets me pass him. As I do, I get a hint of his cedar and musk cologne, which is intoxicating.
The moment I step outside, Matty has the car door open, and I climb in without saying a word.
I need to get away from here.
I need to get away from all of this.
“Usual visit, miss?” Matty asks, and I nod my head as he starts driving.
Have I been propositioned by a man before? Sure. But never a man like Arlo Graves.
I’m not even sure what to make of it.
How would it work?
And why would I ever consider it?
I don’t really know the man. Yes, I’ve heard stories, and I do find him very attractive—you would have to be blind not to see how good-looking he is—but a man like him also raises red flags. Things like…
Why is he single at his age?
Does he have commitment issues?
Kinks I should be aware of?
I want to slap myself for giving this more thought than required. I am clearly going to say no. I don’t intend to sleep with him, not only because he’s my client but also because he scares me a little.
And Momma always said, if a man scares you a little… run.
I take in the familiar sign above the entrance as I exit the car.
I come here at least once a week, sometimes more, depending on my schedule.
Barry, one of the nurses, offers me a wave as I pass him in the hall.
When I get to her door, I find her sitting in the rocking chair I purchased for her last month.
She requested it, and I, of course, obliged.
My mother has dementia, and it’s progressed to the point that the best way to care for her was to find her a place with round-the-clock professional care. It must be hard for her, so I try as much as possible to make her comfortable, as she would do for me.
“Mom.” She looks my way. Her light-blonde hair looks like it’s seen better days, tied up in a bun on top of her head. Her skin is pale from hardly going outside. She looks more fragile each day.
Some days, she remembers me. On other days, she thinks I’m her sister, Mary-Beth. I look more like my aunt than my mother, so it makes sense. At least if she doesn’t remember me, she still thinks I’m someone who loves her. And that’s all I wish for her—that she never feels like no one loves her.
My mother used to walk into a room and all heads would turn her way, not just because of her beauty but also because of how she would present herself.
Commanding. She was always so vibrant, outgoing, and a go-getter, as some would say.
You wanted to know her—who she was, where she came from.
Because of that, she never really kept a man around for long, having been married three times.
She was always the one to leave, dragging me along with her.
We’d lived in so many states that when we finally arrived in New York when I was fifteen, I knew I was never going to live anywhere else. She knew it too.
“You look beautiful today. I brought your favorite.” I pull out a small box of Lindt white chocolate. She looks at it eagerly but makes no attempt to greet me.
Today is one of those days.
I can tell just by looking at her that she’s lost right now, but that’s okay. Even if she’s lost, I am not. Green eyes, the same shade as mine, lock onto my face. She eyes me suspiciously but doesn’t tell me to leave. I sit across from her and start to open the box of chocolates.
“Dad used to buy you these for every birthday, Christmas, and basically any other holiday.” I laugh at the memory.
He really loved her, and their marriage was beautiful.
I believe if he were alive today, she wouldn’t be in here.
I don’t mean that she wouldn’t have dementia, but Dad would have wanted to be the one caring for her.
I also think she kept on giving guys chances in hopes of finding that same love she had with him.
He would have given everything up to look after her, even if she had forgotten who he was, of that I am certain.
After unwrapping a piece of chocolate, I hand it to her. It’s one thing I know she will never turn down.
“I do like chocolate,” she says as she takes it from me and places it into her mouth. I nod and smile at her.
I wonder what she’d think of Arlo. She’d probably tell me to run the other way. I know that’s what my father would have said. He hated the idea of me dating at all.
“You do,” I say sadly. It’s hard to lose one parent, but it’s even harder to watch one deteriorate right in front of your eyes.