Chapter 4

Lawson

Greer Palmer is a mystery.

She’s also a social ghost.

Besides the few pictures I was able to find of her and her father, she’s nowhere in the New York Socialite society. Hell, I couldn’t even find if she went to college.

That’s why I had to get resourceful to figure out a way to infiltrate her life. A friend at the DMV reluctantly gave me her address when I explained that she took off after a fender bender. Then, when I discovered where she lived and the security in the building, things became a little more complicated. The only chance I had of getting to know more about her was to be close, so I scouted the area thinking of ways to run into her. It was pure coincidence a vacant apartment was available in her building, and when I discovered it was across the hall, my plan took a huge twist.

It took a few days, but I called in almost every favor I could to get in this building. Being approved to live in a place like this takes time and a detailed application process. Luckily, no one asked too many questions when I explained my current loft was being fumigated and would be unlivable for at least two months.

Lies, all of it lies.

Necessary evil when it comes to my end game. Having to dote on the woman who will give me insight into her father is a sacrifice I’m willing to make. Wine her, dine her, throw her all the right compliments, and get her talking.

I expected a spoiled little rich socialite when we finally met.

Big fucking mistake.

Greer blew my misconceptions out of the water with only one look. Her fresh face and un-styled hair gave her a pure and natural essence that shocked the hell out of me. Pictures were nothing compared to the real-life version.

But the showstopper was her eyes, the color of green so crystal and clear they are hypnotizing. My pulse took off, racing in a way unlike I’ve ever experienced.

The second surprise came when she offered to help. No hesitation, no pretentiousness, only kindness.

If I’m going to have to juggle this double life, at least she’s not a total bitch.

Meeting Jenny was an added bonus. I caught the approval in her grin when I mentioned taking Greer out for drinks—another advantage in the new life of Lawson Hall.

I’ve taken great measures to erase any trace of my life before last week. I’ve closed every social media account and confirmed that all projects in my business are under Joshua Hall. My credit cards and driver’s license are being reordered with the name Lawson Hall. Even the application to this building is under Lawson Hall. So, unless she gets my social security number, I should be safe for the short time I plan to be here.

My phone alerts me to the time, and I walk across the hall to start my day with Greer. The one thing I haven’t lied about lately is my reason for asking her to join me. I have no idea about this part of the city.

She answers the door with a welcoming smile, and my whole body tenses. I take a few seconds to stare at the woman before me. My eyes roam over the lacy green sundress that hugs her in all the right places and showcases every curve of her body. The V of the neckline dips low, drawing my attention straight to her tits. Thoughts of snapping the thin straps that hold the dress up invade my mind and my fingertips begin to tingle. I blink a few times, the image playing in my head.

Gorgeous. She’s gorgeous. There’s no other way to describe her.

“Are you ready?” Her sweet voice brings my attention back to her face, and I nod.

“Great, let me get my bag.” When she turns, I get the full view of her from behind.

There’s a stir in my gut, and my cock comes to life at the sight. Her entire back is exposed, covered only with a crisscross of the same thin straps on her shoulders. She continues to talk, but I don’t comprehend what she’s said until she’s back in front of me.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I was saying, I hope you like cheese danishes. I called ahead and had Ricardo set some aside. He makes world-class pastries unmatched anywhere. They sell out by eight on Sundays, but I explained you are new and needed the full experience.”

“Ricardo?”

“The owner of the café on the corner. That’s our first stop.”

“First stop?” My mind is hazy, and nothing she says is sinking in. I jerk my head a few times to try to break out of the daze.

“Well, I thought we could walk a few blocks and I can point out some of the places you may be interested in.” She narrows her eyes at me, and her smile fades into a thin line. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” I force out. “I’m great.”

“Do you like danishes?”

“Of course, I do. What man would turn down a world-class pastry with such a beautiful date?”

Her face heats, but the smile returns and I want to pound on my chest.

What the fuck, Lawson?

I sweep my hand to the hallway. “Should we go?”

She locks her apartment and leads the way to the elevator. On the walk to the café, Greer explains a few of the local landmarks, but I have a hard time concentrating. The sidewalks are busy this morning, and she’s forced to brush up against me several times. Each brief touch awakens something inside.

An unwanted attraction builds, and I mentally scold myself for allowing emotions to surface.

Stick to the plan.

When she opens the door to the café, the overwhelming scent of freshly brewed coffee and sugary goodness hits us.

“Greer!” A robust man rushes toward her and kisses both her cheeks, whispering something in her ear.

She laughs, caressing his cheek lovingly, and then turns to me. “Lawson, this is Ricardo.”

He glowers at me. His only emotion is the red-hot heat of disapproval in his eyes.

“So nice to meet you. Greer has praised your café all morning.” I hold out a hand.

He takes it, squeezing a little too tight, and I fight a hiss when he crushes my broken knuckle.

“Greer is family,” Ricardo bites out.

His warning is loud and clear, adding another layer to the enigma of Greer.

I may not be a fighter, but I could easily beat this man to a pulp.

When I’m convinced he’s broken another knuckle, he drops my hand and walks away, muttering something I don’t comprehend.

“Don’t mind him. He’s a little protective. He wasn’t welcoming to Jonas and Enrique the first few times he met them either.” She giggles, motioning to a small table.

An uneasy feeling churns in my stomach. “Who are Jonas and Enrique?”

“Friends of mine,” is all she offers.

A second later, a young girl delivers two steaming mugs of coffee and a heaping plate of pastries.

“Holy shit.” The scent takes me back to my childhood when my mom would make mounds of Belgian waffles for us on special occasions.

It’s been years since I’ve had that memory, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t press it to the back of my mind. I inhale deeply, and the vision of Clay and me fighting over the first waffle fills my head.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yes, sorry, I had a flashback of me and my brother wrestling over waffles.”

“You have a brother?”

“I do.”

“Is he in construction, too?”

I vaguely remember mentioning that I worked in construction on the way here, glazing over details of my job. To any two people getting to know each other, this is a normal question, but letting her too far into my personal life is dangerous. I choose my reply carefully. “He’s actually in finance.”

“That’s awesome. Does he live close?”

“He does.”

“Do you see him often?”

Every day I think to myself. “Once in a while. He’s about two years younger. Has a wilder lifestyle.”

Another fucking lie. Clay is straight laced and loyal. I can’t help but think Greer would be the perfect match for him. It wasn’t him fucking a new employee in logistics last month.

“Hmm, I get that. Jonas and Enrique are a handful,” she jokes, again spurring my curiosity of these two guys.

“Dig in.” She hands me a plate and fills her own with a giant cinnamon roll.

“So, you mentioned hiring a new employee. Tell me about your business.” I bite into the cheesy, buttery, light pastry and groan the second it melts on my tongue.

“Told you!” She beams and tears off a bite of her own roll. I stare as she licks the cinnamon, sugar, and icing off her fingers and find myself again aroused at the sight.

“Your job?” My voice comes out huskier than usual as my cock continues to stir in my jeans.

She grins and starts telling me all about her personal shopping business. After an hour, I sit in awe of this woman who has now broken every stereotype I created in my head. During the conversation, she doesn’t mention her father, except to say he’s her business partner.

But, with every word, every declaration, I learn more about Kevin Palmer. He lost the love of his life, but his daughter still carries on her traditions.

Not once does she sound sad. In fact, it’s exactly the opposite. She talks about her business with pride and passion.

“That’s me in a nutshell.” Greer pushes her empty coffee cup to the edge of the table, and the waitress is at her side in a flash. “Put it on my tab, please.”

“No, I have this.” I reach for my wallet.

“I insist.” She waves dismissively.

I start to argue with her but lay a twenty on the table. “I’ve got the tip. Where to now?” I stand, offering my hand to help her up.

“Now that we’re appropriately loaded on carbs and caffeine, you are getting a tour. Bye, everyone!” She waves on our way out. A couple of people shout back, but Ricardo is the loudest.

“Be safe, my Greer.” His message is clear, his eyes narrowed at me suspiciously.

“Okay, Lawson Hall, today is your official welcome to the neighborhood. Let’s get moving.”

A surge of unexpected excitement hits me.

Intentions be damned; I’m going to enjoy spending my day with this woman.

Tomorrow, I’ll get back on track with my plan.

•∞•∞•

I crank up the music to drown out the sound of the knocking on the door. There are only a few people who can get past Janice, my Administrative Assistant, when I’m in my drawing room. She barricades my office with ferocity, scaring away anyone who attempts to interrupt me. Rob and my grandfather don’t dare cross her.

Clay and my dad are the exceptions to the rule. Somehow, they always figure out a way to intrude. Today, she was given strict instructions to keep everyone away, because I’m deep in a creative mindset that I can’t risk losing.

Sunday night, after my day of exploring with Greer, inspiration hit. I started sketching ideas for the Palmer project, and four hours later, I had a very rough draft. For days, I’ve worked to polish the design, combing over every detail to the point of obsession.

Creativity flows easily, all because of Greer. Her love and knowledge of the city became contagious. I may have tagged her as shy, but once we hit the streets surrounding our neighborhood, she couldn’t stop talking. More than once, she brought up her family and shared stories. Everything she said is catalogued in my brain.

I learned it’s no coincidence our apartment building is across from the café. She explained the building that housed the shop was one of her absolute favorites in the city. I didn’t understand the attraction until we rounded the block and I saw the massive park and exquisite gardens across the street. Almost every window on the back half of the building is treated to this view.

She guided me through the park and gardens, boasting on the architecture of the surrounding buildings. I was stunned and impressed with her expertise, noting more than once she was educating me on the history of the area. Every piece of information she provided was a window into her life.

I hung on every single word.

The only time I dared ask about her father, she was elusive, describing him as a business man. Never did she mention their wealth, status, or relation to Palmer Enterprises.

By the time I left her at her apartment, my head was spinning.

The music turns off at the same time Clay’s voice blasts through the air. “You are alive.”

“There’s a reason the door was closed,” I bite out through gritted teeth. “Where’s Janice?”

“She’s currently in the break room, refrigerating the chocolate covered fruit basket I brought her.”

He’s grinning smugly when I leer at him. “You’re getting more resourceful.”

“She caught onto my sweet-talking, so I had to think of something to make her leave the desk.”

“What’s so damn important? I’m busy.”

He comes to my table and scans the sketch. “Impressive. How’d you come up with this so quickly?”

“It’s a shell. I need to talk to construction, planning, and engineering about a few ideas before I add more details.”

“Still a great fucking start.”

“Thanks, but you didn’t say what was so important.”

“Lawson, you’ve been MIA for days. Is your phone broken?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“For three days? The only way I knew you were alive was from daily check-ins with Janice.”

I take off my glasses and rub my stinging eyes, leaning back in my chair. “Sorry.” I offer a half-hearted apology. He of all people should know my process.

“Okay, well, explain this to me. Why’d you close down all your social media accounts? I’ve been fielding messages about the disappearance of Lawson Hall. One of your college friends asked if you were dead.”

“You fucking kidding me?”

“Nope, apparently, when you disable your Facebook page, it’s a red flag. But when you close Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, you’ve kicked the bucket.”

“That right there should be enough explanation why I shut down that shit. It’s ridiculous.”

He studies me closely, his eyes roaming my face until my skin prickles uncomfortably.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Why are you dressed so casual today?”

“I’m wearing almost the same exact thing as you.” I point to his polo shirt, jeans, and work boots. “Last I checked, we had a casual dress code.”

“Why are you wearing your glasses?”

“Because I wore my contacts for fourteen hours straight yesterday and my eyes stung like hell when I woke up.”

The real reason is because I plan on seeing Greer tonight. Her reaction to me wearing them on Saturday didn’t go unnoticed.

“I’ll buy that excuse, but I still think something’s different here. What happened to your hand?” He points to the bandage wrapped around a portion of my hand to protect my knuckle.

Fucking Clay, he got his inquisitive nature from our mom. One slight change in routine, appearance, or attitude, and he’s like a dog with a bone.

“I was moving furniture around this weekend and banged up my knuckle. And, if you must know, I cut myself, too. Sunday night, I went to an urgent care clinic and ended up getting a tetanus shot.”

He grimaces, his face filling with sympathy. “That sucks.”

“You done with the third degree? I told you I’m busy.”

He seems to accept this explanation and relaxes his stance. “You think you can cut out of here a little early tonight so we can get in a workout?”

I close my eyes and think quickly. The gym is near my old loft, well out of the way, and too risky. If I say yes, he’ll suggest dinner at my place afterwards, which is basically bare now that I’ve moved everything across town. But, if I say no, he’ll start in with the questions again.

“How about a run instead? I have clothes here.”

“That’ll be good.” He agrees without question. “Text me when you’re ready.”

He leaves, cranking up the music on his way out. I try to get back to work, but my concentration is shot. Instead, my thoughts switch to Greer. Monday night, when I got home, I found a note under my door, thanking me for the flowers I’d left for her that morning. I’d planned on calling her yesterday, only to realize I never got her phone number.

I thought about knocking on her door and asking if she’d be interested in having a drink, but it was late.

Tonight, though, I’m forging ahead. There’s still so much to learn, and the truth is, I enjoy her company. It’s moved beyond a physical attraction. She’s so vibrant and full of life. Being around her is a breath of fresh air. Not to mention, each time I see her, my heart starts to race.

Who am I kidding? I’m so fucking screwed. Six hours in her presence and I knew my precious plan was flawed. For days, she’s consumed my mind.

Maybe, when this is all over, after Morris Construction wins the bid, I can turn this around and we can still be friends.

Guilt churns in my gut and tightens my chest.

Because I know deep down she’ll never forgive me. There’s a good chance I’ll never forgive myself.