CHAPTER SEVEN #3
“She rushed out of here after taking a call,” she says. “What if something’s wrong?”
“As long as she turns up to work tomorrow, I don’t care.”
Anika gives me a look. “You don’t mean that.” I don’t respond. “She’s really embarrassed about last night,” she adds.
I narrow my eyes slightly, the memory replaying whether I want it to or not.
“Good,” I say. “She should be.”
“Oh, please.” Anika rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like you’ve never drunk so much you’ve thrown up. I can think of plenty of times I’ve had to drag you or Dale out of a gutter.”
A smirk tugs at my mouth. “And I’ve repaid that favour more times than I can count.”
“Barely.”
“But,” I continue, ignoring that, “I didn’t do it on my boss’s dime, and I didn’t make a spectacle of myself somewhere I had to show my face the next day.”
“You told Holly to take her out for lunch and cocktails,” Anika points out.
“Stupidly, I assumed they’d know their limits.” I shrug. “Clearly, that was optimistic.”
“Or maybe you just wasn’t very clear with the objective,” she says.
“Or maybe,” I counter, “this is exactly what happens when you hire someone too young for the job.”
Anika snorts. “God, you’re insufferable.”
“Or just practical.”
“Oh, relax,” she mutters. “Loosen up a bit. You’re so tightly wound.”
I glance at her sharply. “That’s not you talking,” I say. “That’s her.”
Anika grins, completely unapologetic. “Maybe she’s got a point.”
I shake my head, turning away, but she’s not finished.
“You know,” she says more softly, “my one wish is that you find someone and settle down.”
I exhale slowly. “Yes. You’ve mentioned that. Repeatedly.”
“And I’ll keep mentioning it.”
“Well don’t,” I say, sharper than intended. “I’m happy as I am. I’ve got you and Sebastian. That’s enough.”
She studies me for a moment, her expression knowing. “That’s not the same thing,” she says quietly.
“It is to me.”
“When I go—”
“Anika,” I snap, sharper than I intend.
She doesn’t flinch. “Hear me out,” she says, her voice low but firm.
I exhale slowly, my jaw tight. I hate this, the way she talks about dying like it’s inevitable, like it’s already decided.
“When I go,” she repeats, softer now, “I need to know you’re looked after. That Sebastian is looked after.”
“He will be,” I say immediately.
“Because we both know Luke won’t step up when it comes to it,” she continues. “And I can’t stand the thought of Sebastian not having someone—”
“He’ll have me,” I cut in. “And Dale. You know that.”
Her eyes soften. “I do. But a good woman will—”
“Men can raise kids, Ani,” I say, forcing a smirk. “Don’t be sexist.”
She doesn’t laugh. “Can’t you just try?” she asks quietly. “For me.” I already know where this is going. “Wynter is perfect for you.”
I let out a short laugh. “Perfect?”
She watches me carefully, so I sigh, “Go on then,” I say. “Enlighten me, because I can tell you exactly why we’re not compatible.” I tick it off on my fingers, like I’m listing facts. “She’s emotional. Cries at the drop of a hat. She’s young. Naive. And she has no idea what kind of man I am.”
“Do you trust me, Ray?” she asks.
I sigh again, heavier, and take her hand, careful like always, even though she can’t feel it. “You know I do.”
“Then trust me to know you,” she says softly. “To know what you need.”
I shake my head, already pulling away. “I don’t need anyone.”
“Everyone needs someone.”
“Not like that.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver. “Wynter is it for you, Ray. She’s it.”
Something unsettles in my chest and I immediately crush it. “She wouldn’t last a week with me,” I say bluntly. “She can’t handle me, Ani.”
A small smile touches her lips. “She’s stronger than she looks.”
I shake my head again, dismissing it, because if I don’t, I might start thinking about it properly, and I don’t want that.
“How about this,” I say. “I’ll find someone. I’ll try. But not her. Not Wynter.”
Anika studies me for a long moment. Then she smiles, like she’s already won her case.
“You won’t find anyone,” she says lightly. “Because she’s it.” I huff out a breath. “But if it makes you feel better to look,” she adds, “go ahead. When you realise it’s a waste of time, I’ll be right here to tell you I told you so.”
Dale laughs when I tell him about Anika’s latest scheme.
“She believes in love so desperately,” he says, shaking his head. “It actually hurts my heart that it never worked out for her.”
I lean back in my chair. “So, now, I’ve got to get myself out there and find a woman to knock me off my feet.”
“It’ll never happen,” he says easily.
I arch a brow. “Oh yeah?”
“You don’t trust anyone,” he replies. “And there’s a big difference between letting a woman into your bed and letting her into your heart.”
I scoff. “And when did you get so wise on love?”
He grins. “I watch chick films.”
I roll my eyes.
The elevator pings, cutting the moment short. The doors slide open and Wynter steps out. She looks . . . happy.
My mind instantly goes back to last night—the way that guy leaned over her, the way she looked flustered and breathless.
Maybe she’s been with him all day.
My jaw tightens.
“You wanted to talk?” she asks politely, glancing between us.
Dale pushes to his feet. “I was just leaving. Gotta go help my boss here find the perfect woman.” As he passes her, he pauses, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Great show last night, Wynter,” he says. “You really were the belle of the ball.”
She flushes instantly. Dale laughs and disappears into the elevator, leaving her standing there, embarrassed and unsure.
“Sit,” I order.
She drops into the chair without argument. I watch her for a second longer than necessary.
“How’s the head?” I ask.
“Terrible,” she mutters.
“That’s what happens when you drink Champagne like it’s water.”
“I said I’m sorry,” she replies quickly. “I’ll pay every penny back.”
“You can start tonight,” I say, my tone brisk.
She frowns. “Huh?”
“You’ll need a dress,” I continue. “Something appropriate. Something that actually covers you.” Her eyes widen slightly. “Be ready for eight.”
“For what?” she asks.
“I’ve got an event,” I say. “Normally I go alone, but this one requires a plus one.”
“And that’s . . . me?” she asks, uncertain.
“That’s you.”
She shakes her head instinctively, then seems to catch herself. “I’m not good in social situations,” she says. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”
“I’m out of time finding anyone else,” I lie smoothly. “You’ll have to do.”
There’s a flicker in her expression at that. “But—”
“That’ll be all, Wynter.” I open my laptop, dismissing her without looking up. “Eight.”