“Rita is putting my card on file for you at Chanel and—”
“No.Move on, Nick.”
I move on. For now. “I’ll have a plane on standby for either Thursday night or Friday morning, whichever we decide we prefer. Any thoughts?”
“Friday,” she says. “I don’t want to put that pressure on us Thursday.”
“Friday it is,” I say, pleased that she so easily chose to stay here, instead of go there.
She’s silent several beats and then, “Nick.”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Thank you. Foreverything. Even trying to spoil me with clothes.”
“The only thank you I need is you naked in my bed tonight. I’m going to be late but I’ll update you soon.” I end the call and push away from my desk and stand up, walking to the window. Maybe there were no murders. Maybe this is over the minute I get that autopsy report but every day that passes, I feel the betrayal of my lies, as much as I dread telling Faith the truth. How the hell do I tell a woman who has become everything to me, who I’ve asked over and over to trust me that I thought she was a killer? I press my hands to my desk. I have to make her love me more than she can possibly hate me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Nick
The “stupid” disease erupts not long after the evaluation comes in on Reid Winery. Every client I personally handle needs me personally, and why? Because they’ve done something stupid and the only pill that will fix them is me. It’s nearly six pm by the time the eruption calms down, but I’ve still managed to secure my Thursday court date, coordinate action with Beck, and pound on Abel until he confirms that the autopsy on my father has become one big fuck up. We are weeks from answering the murder question, and therefore weeks before I can risk telling Faith the truth.
Rita appears in my doorway. “Your broker has called four times,” she says, walking to my desk, an envelope in her hands. “I suspect that means he’s called your cellphone at least that many times.”
“I’ll call him back.”
“I know,” she says. “You’ve told me that four times. And I know, Nick Rogers, that you’re this mega-superstar attorney, but apparently, I’m older and wiser. So here is some sound advice. When someone controls as much of your money as that man does, and he calls that many times, call him back.”
I scrub the back of my neck. “Right. I will.”
“When?”
“Before I leave.”
She gives me a keen inspection. “You haven’t even started prepping for the Nichols meeting tomorrow, have you?”
“No. I have not.”
“What do I need to do?”
“Go home. I’ve got this.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“A few updates first. Number one: Kasey sent me the accounts payable for Reid Winery. All the bills are now paid in full and I have it set up for him to send me the bills once a week.”
“Excellent.”
“Number two.” She sets an envelope on my desk. “This came for you. It’s from Faith. And if it includes further accounts payable, I haven’t paid them. I didn’t know if that’s what it was and I didn’t want to risk invading your privacy.”
I arch a brow. “And you’ve cared about my privacy since when?”
“Since your privacy became Faith’s as well. Do you want me to arrange dinner delivery?”
“No. I’ll wait.”