What in the hell was going on with her?6A week had passed, and as Freya looked at herself in the mirror one last time, she breathed out a heaving sigh. She hated the fact she was so damn nervous. It was just dinner, just one meal to catch up with an old friend at his penthouse apartment in the city.
At his freaking penthouse apartment.
But even though this was just Elijah and just dinner, Freya she felt like she was moving a hundred miles per hour and going twenty different directions at the same time.
“It’s just dinner,” she said and closed her eyes. After a second, she opened them again, happy with what she saw as she stared at her reflection and happy with the woman she’d become. She wasn’t some young, foolish girl who was lost and didn’t know where she should go with her life.
She’d just wanted to leave, to forget about everything. Even up until she’d come back here after she graduated, she’d not known if this was where she wanted to settle. But then she’d stepped inside her home, the house her father left her because he wanted her to be taken care of, and she felt like everything would be okay. She knew everything would be okay.
Turning from the mirror, she grabbed her purse and keys, smoothed her hands over her pants, and walked toward the front door. Once in her car and heading into the city, her mind was a jumbled mess. She needed to calm down and put all thoughts about Elijah that weren’t friendly in manner out of her head.
Freya couldn’t even understand why her attraction to Elijah had been so sudden, so consuming. She hadn’t felt this way four years ago. Of course she’d felt his strength, and the intelligence, attractiveness, and power he’d emitted. She’d always felt safe around him, and that had been so comforting.
But he’d been married to Meghan, even if he hadn’t been happy, not to mention Freya still in high school and the implications of all that. Those had been the biggest blocks on her emotions, and why she’d never seen him as anything more. At least that was what she assumed.
But things were different now. He wasn’t married, she was single, and years had passed.
“It’s just dinner,” she said again under her breath. She was sweating between her breasts, her hands would be shaking if she wasn’t gripping the steering wheel so tightly, and her heart was racing.
Twenty minutes later, she was entering the city’s limits. The buildings were tall, the sidewalks crowded, and the traffic murderous. Another ten minutes of just trying to get through the traffic had her hair standing on end. By the time she’d pulled up to the gate that would allow her access to the underground garage of Elijah’s apartment building, she felt dizzy. After entering the code he’d given her, the gates opened, and she descended into the garage.
Freya pulled into a spot and parked, cut the engine, then rested her head on the steering wheel as she breathed out. This nervousness didn’t have anything to do with the horrible traffic and had everything to do with her growing emotions for a man she shouldn’t want.
Maybe you should have just taken him up on his offer to pick you up?
No, because at least with her driving herself, she had some kind of control. Being confined in the same car with him surely wouldn’t have been the smartest move, not when she felt light-headed just thinking about him.
If she was going to do this, then she needed to be an adult and understand that her emotions didn’t dictate her actions. Freya needed to grow up. She wasn’t a teenager looking up to a man who was much older than she was and had his life on track while she was living one that was out of control.
She could do this. She could have dinner with Elijah and rekindle the friendship they’d had all those years ago. They could have a platonic relationship. Hell, that was probably all Elijah wanted with her anyway, and that was good, smart. That was what they both needed.
That was what she told herself anyway, even if it didn’t feel right.Elijah stared at the screen that showed him the garage and watched as Freya sat in her car, seeming to talk to herself. Even though he wasn’t next to her, he could tell she was nervous.
He rubbed his palms down his slacks, his body controlled but coiled. He knew how to hide how he felt from doing meetings, mergers, and living up to his stone-cold and ruthless reputation in business. He may seem like he was not affected right now—on the outside, at least—but inside, he was strung tight, anxious, and nervous with anticipation about seeing Freya.
She’d looked as if she wanted to run when he saw her at the liquor store. He could understand that because they hadn’t seen each other in so long. He watched as she finally got out of the car and walked over to the elevators that would bring her to his private penthouse, and he knew he had to keep his collected attitude in place.