Page 53 of Caught Between Two Billionaires
I look at Sutton, who’s watching me with unreadable blue eyes. He’s waiting for someone who cares enough, maybe. Waiting for me. We might not be able to save the whole library, but we can save the wall. And it will be better—much better to preserve it properly than let it sit in that dusty, abandoned space, exposed to the elements through the broken glass dome.
“As it happens the extraction and transportation of walls has been a subject of particular interest to me. And Sutton’s a carpenter, too. I’m sure we can find a way to pull them off the building and move them… ” Where? “Maybe a museum.”
“City hall,” Mrs. Rosemont says, and I know we’ve won.
Sutton gives me a small nod of agreement. We still have to convince Christopher, who I think will be less amenable, but I have to believe I can do it. There’s a cost to what I’m proposing, but nothing in life is free. Being a stated supporter of the society will mean the project has their backing. It might even help smooth along some of the red tape.
This is the way business is done.
Like Christopher said, I am my father’s daughter.
Mrs. Rosemont nods once. “I still have to discuss it with the other members, but this might be the best option. We’ll be in touch with some specifics.”
That’s a nice way of saying she’s going to make us bleed through the nose for some expensive book restorations, but I can’t really blame her. My job is far from done. There will be more negotiations, but this is a solid start.
Sutton stands. “Shall we?”
He helps me up, but my foot has fallen asleep from sitting too long. I stumble a little against the chairs in front of me. It’s Sutton who helps pull me upright, Sutton who keeps me that way when my leg threatens to give out again. Sutton who leans down so that his face is only an inch away from mine, an intimate pose considering we’re sitting in one of the front rows of the theater.
Most of the seats are empty now anyway, but there’s one man at the back. In the shadows. Of course he would be there. I recognize his silhouette immediately. Christopher must have come down from the box seat and waited for us.
I lean on Sutton as we make our way to the back.
Vaguely I’m aware of Mrs. Rosemont and her husband trailing after us up the long carpeted aisle. We’re almost completely alone in such a large space. The stage is silent after being so full of life for the past three hours. Through the archway I can hear the buzz of voices, people excited and a little tipsy, but they seem far away.
Even a few feet away from Christopher, he’s too dark to read. I can feel the tension radiating off him. Is he worried I said something wrong? He steps forward, only half a foot, and I can see his black eyes flash with fury.
“Christopher?” I say, suddenly uncertain. It had felt so natural to make a deal with Mrs. Rosemont with Sutton beside me. This is what I would have done for my father, if he had lived long enough to use me for this. It’s what I was born to do.
“I’ll take you home,” he says, his voice so low it’s almost guttural. The sound of a cello in the orchestra pit, foreboding and grave. It means the main actor is in trouble.
Sutton’s hand tightens on me, and I realize what this is. Another one of their damn pissing matches. I’m not even sure it matters who I am—it could be anything they’re pulling between them. “I’ve got her,” he says, nice and quiet. Lethal in a different way.
“This wasn’t a date,” I whisper. “I’m not going home with either of you.”
Christopher looks away, his jaw ticking. “Of course. We can go to the office instead. You can give me the rundown of what you promised Mrs. Rosemont.”
I take a step back, stung. “We can do that tomorrow morning. And hopefully by then you’ll have cooled down enough not to speak to me like I’m a child.”
A dark gaze slides down my body. The emerald wrap dress suddenly feels like nothing. “You’re not a child, Harper. You know exactly what you’re doing.”
The man was saying a thousand things with the innuendo in his voice, none of it good. I’m struck speechless a moment, wondering how I got to this place. Wondering how I can say anything at all when my throat itches and burns like I might start crying—for a third time tonight.
It’s Sutton who steps forward. “I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with you right now, but you’re going to walk away before I remind you how to speak to a woman.”
