Chapter Six #4
The practical part of her screamed it wasn’t worth it. This was Manhattan, and the train ride alone took twenty minutes, not to mention the time she needed to spend walking.
But if it meant potentially giving her heart to him, she didn’t care.
He heaved a sigh. “I have a guest room.”
“I said no,” she argued.
Stifling silence rained down as scales tipped back and forth in his eyes. His collage of tattoos stirred with every breath.
She lifted her chin in silent challenge.
“Alright, then,” he accepted. “But hold on.”
Disappearing into his room, he emerged a moment later. Zipping up a sweatshirt, he grabbed a set of keys from the hall table.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He arched a brow. “Giving you a ride home.”
Her tongue weighed a ton in her mouth.
In the grand scheme of things, James driving her home meant nothing. But given everything between them … it was too much, too soon.
She frowned, shaking her head.
He blew a breath out. “Sophie, if you stay in the guest room, I promise you won’t even see me in the morning. Just think of this as spending the night at a friend’s house.”
“No.”
Panic and irritation seared her lungs.
Christ, did he not understand how a Friends-With-Benefits arrangement worked?
God, were Chlo and Ol right?
He narrowed his eyes. “Okay, fine. Then just … wait a minute.”
Wandering into the living room, he lifted his phone to his ear and spoke in rapid Italian after a moment.
A chill filled Sophie’s stomach as he hung up. “What did you just do?”
He stalked back into the foyer. “Well, you’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m letting you take a ride-share this late alone. The private car service line was busy when I called before, and since you don’t want me driving you, I called someone.”
“I got that.” She crossed her arms. “But who did you call?”
“Give it a minute.” He crossed to the fridge. “Do you want some water while you wait?”
She scoffed and pursed her lips. This is ridiculous. “Thanks, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spinning toward the elevator, she reached for the button just as it slid open.
Blinking, she stared at Philip.
“I called Pip,” James said. “He’s got a really messed-up sleep schedule.”
Philip waved, running a hand through his hair and scuffing it up even more.
Irritation burned her lungs. “I don’t need an escort.”
James frowned. “Sophie, you are not crossing the city alone at one a.m. It’s either me or Pip; take your pick.”
She huffed. “Fine.”
It would be awkward with Philip in the car, but it was preferable to the subway or James.
James nodded curtly. “Pip, take my car.”
“Just over there.” Philip gestured to a navy Mercedes glimmering in the dim parking garage.
The car's headlights flashed, and the alarm chirped as they approached.
He settled into the driver’s seat. “Aside from the monthly dinners he has to go to at his dad’s, James barely drives this thing. It’s a damn shame because this baby deserves better than to sit in a garage all day.”
Closing the passenger side door, she buckled herself in. Then why … oh.
Parking was like trying to find water in a desert in Manhattan, and car break-ins were more frequent than desired. Like other wealthy New Yorkers, James must’ve owned the car for ease.
“Thanks for driving me. I know this is awkward,” she said as the engine rumbled to life.
Philip shrugged. “It’s no problem. Besides, I’m sure it’s better than James driving you or staying overnight.”
“Definitely … I really would’ve been fine taking an Uber or something.”
Philip snorted. “Ay, James can be stupid, but he’s not that stupid. That was a fight you weren’t going to win.”
Silence cascaded like a waterfall as they left the garage, and Philip turned onto a mostly empty street.
He tapped his fingers on the wheel. “So. You and James.”
They came to a halt at a red light.
“There is no me and James.” She looked out the window. A few people littered the sidewalks, and empty cabs idled by the curb. She turned her attention to Philip as they resumed moving. “There is no me and James. Got it?”
There couldn’t be. Not as long as she worked at Covey and held his company partially in her hands.
There could only be hangouts that led to potential hookups. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Loud and clear.” Philip grinned and kept his eyes fixed on the road.
“Anyway, why does James call you Pip?” she asked.
Philip sighed and muttered something. With her rudimentary Spanish, she managed to put together a prayer.
She sniggered. “What, is it embarrassing?”
“No, it's just—my grandma used to call me, ‘Mi querida feliz,’” he said.
“‘My darling happiness?’”
He tilted his head. “You know Spanish?”
“The basics,” she said.
“I see.” He nodded. “Well, one time, James overheard her, decided to nickname me Pip, and it just stuck.”
She nodded, swallowing the information he gave her.
Of course, James is a family friend.
Now that she looked Philip up, she knew those were his family’s banking branches that dotted the streets of European cities.
But Wikipedia hadn’t listed him as the current sitting chair of the company. Instead, his sister was.
Sophie hadn’t been able to find any information on him at all except for the fact that he resided in America.
Why was Philip working for James instead of his own family? What happened that made it that way?
She frowned, ready to probe deeper when she noticed the look dancing across his face.
There was a story, but one he wasn’t ready to give.
“Uh—” she began. But before she could say anything more, the car jerked.
Sophie seized the grab handle. “Shit!”
“Me cago en la cabeza!” Philip slammed the brakes to avoid hitting a jaywalker. Blasting the horn, he muttered a few angry words in Spanish.
“Are you okay?” he asked as they started moving again.
“Yeah, I don’t think James should let you drive his car,” Sophie quipped.
Philip laughed. “You should’ve been there when my boyfriend at the time first saw my motorcycle.”
“What, did he freak out?” Sophie asked. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Those things are death traps, especially in this city.”
“That’s exactly what my little sister said,” Philip remarked. “Her name’s Catalina. I think you’d like her.”
Sophie stared out the window. “When was the last time you saw her?”
Philip quieted before slipping into a turning lane. “In person? A month ago.”
Sophie pursed her lips, suspicion brewing. “And … when was the last time you saw her at home?”
A funny look settled into his expression. “Um … fourteen years ago.” Pulling to a stop at a light, he scrutinized her sharply. “Did James say something?”
She shook her head, the engine suddenly too loud. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
The light turned, and the city moved again outside her window.
In the reflection, her rosy cheeks flickered in and out of view.
“I am sorry for snapping; it is just a long story,” Philip said, his accent coming through stronger than ever. “But yes, it has been fourteen years.”
He said fourteen years with the same air as someone announcing the death of a loved one. If his end goal had been to get her mind off the subject, he failed magnificently.
“Oh.” She winced at touching a nerve. Her eyes skirted to the digital clock—how had only ten minutes gone by?
“Anyway, I um … I don’t think I’ve ever seen James so excited,” Philip continued, changing the subject.
“When you agreed to a date the other day, I mean. He didn’t admit it, but he didn’t try to hide it, either.
” He grinned. “Once he got your number, he was constantly checking his phone and looking at it like … like no hay color.”
She frowned. “There’s no color?”
Philip laughed. “He was looking at his phone like there was no competition.” Something in his eyes flickered. “He had a million other things on his plate, and yet, the only thing on his mind was you.”
Warmth trickled into her lungs and pooled there. “I wish everything had turned out differently.”
Philip shrugged. “It is what it is.” He stopped at a red light and rubbed his jaw. “Sophie …”
She frowned at the hesitation on his face. “What is it?”
“I trust you, and while I don’t think you started dating James because of other stuff, as his friend, I need to make sure you—”
“That I didn’t start this to use him?” she cut in.
He flushed, nodding.
She should’ve been angry at Philip’s blunt question, but nothing but admiration filled her senses. Connections meant everything, especially for the rich, and there was nothing better than the ones that came through marriage.
In her quick search, she’d noticed James hadn’t escaped that, either.
His romantic history was marked by sightings with socialites and dates with heiresses, and it only made sense for Sophie to want him for the same reasons they did.
But none of that mattered to her.
“I didn’t,” she said. “Like I told him, I couldn’t place who you two were when I met you. Yes, I figured he had money, but that had nothing to do with why I accepted his offer.”
“Okay,” Philip murmured and smiled. “Good. I’m sorry for that, I just needed to—”
“I get it,” she said. “I would do the same thing if I were in your position.”
“It just happened more than I wish.” He clenched his jaw and pulled the car in front of her building. “Do you want me to walk you to the door?”
She shook her head. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime. Have a good night.”
She darted out, the neon glow from the noodle shop under her apartment stinging her eyes as she fumbled for her keys in her bag. Looking behind her shoulder, she pushed the door in.
He idled by the curb, his gaze trained on her.
Only when she waved and closed the door did the engine rumble away.
Leaning against the metal, she started up the narrow, darkened stairwell. Each gust of air she sucked in stifled her lungs.
James, striding into that conference room, had sent everything tumbling into a burning, twisted mess.
But things turned out better than she thought.