She rests her head on my shoulder, a weary sigh escaping her lips. “Tired?” I ask.
“Very. I’d rather go home than go meet some long-lost aunt.”
“Just give her a chance, OK? I know it’s weird and I know she needs you more than you need her—you have a great family already. So just know your worth when you walk in there.”
Sasha sits up straight, rubbing her pussy against my cock in a way that makes me instantly hard again. “Worth?”
“Jesus, Sasha,” I laugh. “Don’t squirm like that while you’re sitting in my lap.”
“What do you mean she needs me?”
“She’s got her warm moments, but I’ve known her a long time. She’s not a woman who wastes an opportunity.”
Sasha squints her eyes down at me. “I don’t want to meet her. Can’t you take me home? Didn’t I keep my end of the bargain already? We had a date. We had sex, for fuck’s sake. I put out. It should be enough.”
“You did not put out,” I growl up at her. “I don’t want to hear you refer to sex with me like that. It’s offensive. If you didn’t want to—”
“I did, Jax. That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want to meet her. And I don’t think you’ll make me if I push it. So I’m pushing it.”
I sigh as I play with her hair. “I won’t make you do anything. But it’s always better to be over-informed than under-informed. You should meet her so you can formulate a decision about her. That’s how you do the job, right? You gather information, evaluate it, and then form an opinion.”
“I’m not working for you and the FBI, Jax.”
“Not yet,” I joke, poking her in the ribs. She squirms away from me and rubs against my dick again. “Holy hell, you need to get off me or I’m going to attack you.” I reach for the handkerchief I used to dab the blood on her head and hold it up for her. “Sorry, I know I made a mess inside you. It’s all I have.”
“And you ripped my underwear. Now I’m wearing this stupid dress with no underwear.”
I can’t think about that. I’m ready to give in too. “I’d much rather have you to myself tonight than spend the night—”
“I’m not spending the night!”
“It’s a big place, Sasha. You’ll have your own room. It’s practically a hotel.”
“No, no way. I think we need to turn around.”
“Sasha,” I say, cupping her face in my hands. “Didn’t I just tell you you’re safe with me? Relax. It’s already almost eleven o’clock. It will be one informal introduction, a little chatting, then they will show you to your room and we’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
She hesitates. My words hang in the air with no answer. And then she gets off my lap and starts wordlessly putting herself back together. Her hair is tousled and her face is flushed pink. I’m suddenly hot as well, and then I realize what just happened. We had sex in a car with our winter coats on. I had sex with Sasha Cherlin, former child assassin, Company secret, and all-around badass chick.
I let off a little laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Sasha asks, trying to see herself in the dim reflection of the dark windows lit up by the moon outside.
I can’t answer that without offending her. So I just shrug. “The way things change so fast, ya know?”
“You mean us.” She drags her eyes away from the window.
“Is there gonna be an us?”
She gives me a shrug back. “Who knows? I’m not exactly in a good place right now. My whole life seems to be up in the air.”
“That’s not always a bad thing.”
“Pfft. Speak for yourself. I’m OCD about this kind of stuff. I like planning things. I hate being spontaneous. I like clear goals with measurable metrics. And a few hours ago I had to clean out my office, and you know what?” Her eyes are fixed on me now.
“What?”
“The only personal thing I had in that office was a dinosaur Chia Pet.”
“Sorry I broke it.”
“No,” she says, swiping a stray strand of hair from her face. “That’s not what I mean. I didn’t care about it. Not really. After two years of practically living at that school, my office should be like a bedroom. Filled with crap, trash, remnants of life. But my office was spotless.”
“So your OCD carries over into your professional life.”
“Why didn’t I notice that I was so uninvested?”
“Does it matter who notices first? You or your mentor?”
“Yeah, because I’m super-competitive. And I found out I lost a prized internship and got kicked out all in the same hour. I mean, that’s one hundred percent total failure.”
“Or,” I counter, “it’s a chance to take a second look at what you’re doing and why.” I’m about to say more, to ease her mind about what happened today. It has to feel like failure and I don’t want to end this conversation like that. But the car comes to a stop and she looks at me with pure panic in her eyes.
“You’re fine,” I say, squeezing her hand.
“What if they are panic attacks?”
“What if they’re not?”
The front door slams as the driver gets out, and then he’s pulling open Sasha’s door and offering her his hand.
She looks up at him, takes his offering, and steps out of the car like a professional.
I get out on my side and offer her my arm as the driver hands her off. She accepts it and we walk forward, her head tipped up to take in the entire four-story estate.
“Holy shit,” she says. “It really is like a hotel.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?”
“What makes you think that?” She laughs.
“You’re a billionaire’s daughter. You have a ton of money stashed all over the world, I’m sure. And yet this country estate in north central Nebraska impresses you.”
“I’ve been lots of places…” She trails off as we walk up the front steps. They are massive, like the manor, and built of stone, also like the manor. In fact, it looks like something from the French countryside. You can’t see it well at night, but the bricks are light-colored sandstone, there are wings on either side of the main house that seem to go on forever, and there are turrets to give it character. It looks a little like a castle to the kids who come through here. “But I’m a simple girl, Jax. My childhood home was an RV. And Ford’s house isn’t big. Not like this. I even shared a room with my sister Kate while we remodeled the main floor one year.”
The door swings open before I can remark on that insight into her childhood, and then the doorman is there, bowing and extending his hand in a wave that signals we are to come inside.
Sasha tightens her grip on my arm and I give her a reassuring pat on the hand.
“Your coat, ma’am?”
It’s a simple question, but Sasha just stands there with her mouth open.
“Here,” I say, slipping her coat down her arms. “I’ll help you with that.” She nods at me, but I can see the panic in her eyes. Has she been like this all fall? I don’t recall seeing her so disoriented. Of course, she’s practically been a recluse. Staying home most nights, unless she was working. “Are you OK?”
She looks around to see if anyone is watching, and then gives me such a small shake of her head, I almost miss it. “No. Let’s go, please.”
“Shhh,” I say, taking her hand. “You’re fine, I promise.”