Audrey’s POV:
The cold night air hit me as I stepped outside the Bailey residence, bringing a small measure of clarity to my racing thoughts.
I leaned against the brick wall and pulled out a cigarette, then reached for my phone.
I scrolled to a contact I rarely used and composed a message.
*Remote access to this phone number [Brandon’s number] and delete ALL photos/videos. Especially compromising content. ”
I pressed send, exhaling smoke into the cold air.
Within seconds, my phone vibrated with a reply:
“Received.”
I suddenly remembered Caspar was still waiting in the car.
With a groan of frustration, I quickly extinguished the cigarette against the brick wall, dropping the butt into a nearby trash can.
I waved my hands around trying to disperse the lingering smoke, then discreetly checked my breath before hurrying toward the waiting
Bentley.
The window rolled down as I approached. I slid into the backseat beside him, the leather cool against my skin.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his profile illuminated by passing streetlights.
“Yes,” I replied simply.
He turned slightly toward me, one eyebrow raised. “Then why the cigarette?”
I blinked in surprise.
I was careful to air out before getting in.He really has a sharp nose.
“Just a little restless,” I said with a shrug, trying to sound casual.
“It helps clear my head sometimes. I don’t make a habit of it.”
I glanced at him apologetically. “Does the smell bother you? I tried to air out before getting in.”
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:
“A little,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving my face. “But it’s not the smell that concerns me.”
I looked at him quizzically, waiting for him to elaborate.
“It’s the emotions that drove you to it,” he explained, his voice softer than usual.
A warmth crept up my neck and into my cheeks.
This wasn’t my imagination or a misunderstanding.
The way Caspar looked at me, spoke to me, had been changing. Growing more intimate. More… attentive.
The car pulled up to a mid–sized building in Chelsea’s art district. “We’re here,” Caspar announced.
We took the elevator to the third floor.
The apartment was modest in size, with excellent natural lighting and a separate area that could serve as a studio space,
“Thank you for everything tonight,” I said, trying to restore the comfortable atmosphere. “For bailing me out and helping me move. I’ll treat you to a meal another day.”
“Tomorrow,” he replied without hesitation.
“Tomorrow?” I repeated, startled by his immediacy. After a moment, I nodded. “Alright. Tomorrow it is.”
Caspar bid me goodnight and left, leaving me standing in the center of my new apartment.
The door clicked shut behind him, and the sudden silence felt deafening.
I sank onto the edge of my new sofa, replaying our conversation in my mind.
Is it possible that Caspar Thornton has feelings for me?
The thought seemed absurd on its face. He was one of the most powerful men in New York–probably the country.
Women far more beautiful, accomplished, and sophisticated than me must throw themselves at him daily. Women like Daisy Cole.
And yet… something had changed between us.
I shook my head vigorously, as if the physical motion could dislodge these dangerous thoughts.
Rising from the sofa, I moved through my nighttime routine mechanically.
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The cool sheets welcomed me as I slipped under the covers, willing my mind to quiet.
Don’t be a cliché, Audrey. Don’t be the naive woman who falls for her employer.
With that stern self–admonishment, I closed my eyes and eventually drifted into dreamland.
4
The next morning, sunlight filtered persistently through the curtains, casting a warm glow across my face that gradually pulled me from
sleep.
I blinked slowly, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar ceiling above me.
I bolted upright, momentarily disoriented before remembering I was in my new apartment.
A glance at my phone made me groan–10:47 AM. I’d completely overslept.
“The lunch with Caspar!” I gasped, suddenly remembering our plans.
My heart rate spiked as I scrambled to unlock my phone, expecting to find a series of increasingly impatient messages.
Instead, I found a single text from Caspar sent nearly two hours ago:
Take your time this morning. You needed the rest. When you’re up, come to the Thornton estate. I’ll have Edward prepare something light for us.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and hurried toward the bathroom.
I rushed through my morning routine, throwing on a simple sweater and jeans before hurrying downstairs.
Forty minutes later, I walked into the Thornton mansion to find Caspar and Noah locked in what appeared to be a silent battle of wills in
the main foyer.
Noah’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his face set in a stubborn frown. Caspar stood with equal determination.
“What’s going on?” I asked, approaching them carefully.
Noah’s head whipped around at the sound of my voice.
His eyes lit up immediately, and he ran to me, wrapping his small arms around my legs.
“Noah,” I said gently, running my hand through his soft hair. “What’s wrong?”
Caspar sighed, loosening his tie slightly. “Dorothy hasn’t seen Noah in several weeks. She wanted Noah to keep her company for an
afternoon.”
“I want to stay with you,” Noah mumbled into my legs, his voice barely audible.
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His small fingers clutched the fabric of my pants, his body partially hidden behind me as if seeking protection.
I placed a gentle hand on his head, feeling the silky softness of his hair beneath my palm.
“Is there perhaps another option?” I asked, meeting Caspar’s gaze.
Caspar nodded and said. “Another option is to invite Dorothy to spend the afternoon with us at the Thornton estate.”
I looked down at Noah, then back at Caspar.
“I think…” I hesitated, already feeling Noah’s hopeful gaze on me, “Perhaps it would be better for Noah to visit Dorothy at her home.”
Noah’s fingers instantly loosened their grip on my pants.
I glanced down to see his face transform from hopeful anticipation to stunned betrayal.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
