Anchor Me
Page 32
“The first time was in Dallas before I went to see Ashley. I thought it was a one-off, I swear. And then I forgot about it.”
“And the others?”
“Both today,” I tell him. “I sent you a text, remember? Saying I had something to tell you. This was it.”
He rubs his temples. He doesn’t look happy, but neither does he look pissed.
“Who?” he asks. “Any ideas?”
“At first I thought it was about the job—which means it could be anyone. A competitor. An employee at Greystone-Branch who doesn’t like me.” I shrug. “But then I thought Giselle. Or even Sofia. Or,” I add, looking down at the floor, “maybe even my mom.”
For a moment, he’s still and silent. Then he stands and starts to pace. “I can’t believe Sofia would do that.”
I press my lips together. I can believe a hell of a lot worse about her, but considering she’s all the way in the UK, I’m not going to argue.
“And not Giselle. She’s newly married to a man who doesn’t like controversy and has a hefty bank account. I don’t think she’d risk that.”
I nod, that seems fair enough. Everything she did before was with an eye to saving her cash flow.
“Your mother,” he says slowly. “You really think she moved here?”
“I think I saw her today,” I admit. “I’ve been seeing her around town, remember? Maybe that was her warm-up act for the texts.”
“Maybe,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced.
“So what do we do?” I ask, as he reaches down to help me up.
“For now, we wait. And you tell me the instant you get another message.”
“I will,” I promise. “What else?”
“Now we try and forget about it, at least for a little while.”
“Oh.” I grin. I like that idea. “Are you heading back to work?”
“Actually, I thought you might want to do some more shopping.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Unless you already got your fill?”
“Of shopping for the baby? Not even close,” I meet his smile with one of my own. “In fact, I found the most darling crib . . .”
13
Damien’s already up by the time the sound of the ocean and the soft light of morning teases me awake. I slide out of bed and stretch, wishing that we could stay here all day. Not possible, though. We both have empires to run.
The thought makes me grin, because it’s true. My empire’s significantly smaller than his, but it’s growing, and if I’m going to keep it chugging along, I need to park myself at my desk and get through some of the initial tasks for Greystone-Branch.
Before that, though, I have one key appointment, and as I look at the clock, I realize that I should probably hurry.
I’d gone to bed naked, and now I pull on a fuzzy robe and tie it around my waist before I head out in search of my husband. I expect to find him in the kitchen, and I’m surprised when I realize that the entire third floor is empty.
The house is ten thousand square feet—large by normal human standards, though small in the world of billionaires—but still plenty big enough for a man to get lost in. When I don’t find him at his desk on the mezzanine level, I assume that he’s gone all the way down to the first floor to take a swim or work out in the gym.
Unfortunately, I’ve assumed wrong.
I’m about to give in and call for him through the intercom when I realize that I know exactly where he is. I head back upstairs to the second floor. Early in our marriage, this floor went mostly unused. Once Syl and Jackson got together and their kids came into our lives, however, we’d furnished one of the rooms as a kid-friendly guest room and another as a playroom. There are still two more rooms that have sat empty, filled with random furniture, miscellaneous boxes of mine, and some packed-up files of Damien’s.
Now, I find him leaning against the door jamb of one of those unused rooms, just staring in at the mess of boxes and scattered, mismatched pieces of furniture.
“Hey,” I say, easing beside him and sliding my hand into his.
“What do you see?” he asks, nodding toward the room’s interior.
“Boxes I need to sort through. I think some of those have clothes I’m never going to wear again.” I tilt my head to look at him and the wistful expression on his face. “What do you see?”
“The crib we bought yesterday against the far wall,” he says, pointing to the spot he’s chosen. “It’s close enough to the window for the ambient light, but far enough away that the sun won’t shine in the baby’s eyes.” He turns to me. “Can you see it?”
I nod, thinking about the sturdy white crib we’d decided on after looking at every single one on display in the upscale baby furniture store. None of them had been quite right, but then we saw one with a headboard design that had two elephants, their trunks twining into a heart shape, and a line of zoo animals stenciled on the outside. It’s absolutely darling, and both Damien and I fell in love with it immediately. It’s a special order, but it will be delivered soon.
“It has a mobile hanging over it,” I say. “Another zoo theme.” I imagine a musical mobile hanging above the crib, tiny giraffes and lions and penguins going around and around above our little girl as she coos and kicks and reaches for the pretty animals.
“And my rocker by the window,” I add. It was the only other piece of furniture we bought yesterday. When we’d set out, Damien had said he wanted to spread out the shopping. To take it slow and savor every moment and only buy one piece per trip.
I was all for that plan until afternoon exhaustion snuck up on me, and I ended up sitting in the most amazing rocker in the history of the universe. And then I informed Damien that there was no way I was leaving that store without being absolutely certain that the rocker would soon be mine.
“We need to figure out colors next,” I say. “And we need a changing table and a chest of drawers and maybe a rocking horse.”
He grins at me. “I don’t think we need the rocking horse just yet.”
“Okay, then. A giant stuffed bear. In fact, a whole menagerie of stuffed animals who can watch over her at night.”
“And a bassinet,” he says. “Because she’s sleeping in our room at first.”
“And the others?”
“Both today,” I tell him. “I sent you a text, remember? Saying I had something to tell you. This was it.”
He rubs his temples. He doesn’t look happy, but neither does he look pissed.
“Who?” he asks. “Any ideas?”
“At first I thought it was about the job—which means it could be anyone. A competitor. An employee at Greystone-Branch who doesn’t like me.” I shrug. “But then I thought Giselle. Or even Sofia. Or,” I add, looking down at the floor, “maybe even my mom.”
For a moment, he’s still and silent. Then he stands and starts to pace. “I can’t believe Sofia would do that.”
I press my lips together. I can believe a hell of a lot worse about her, but considering she’s all the way in the UK, I’m not going to argue.
“And not Giselle. She’s newly married to a man who doesn’t like controversy and has a hefty bank account. I don’t think she’d risk that.”
I nod, that seems fair enough. Everything she did before was with an eye to saving her cash flow.
“Your mother,” he says slowly. “You really think she moved here?”
“I think I saw her today,” I admit. “I’ve been seeing her around town, remember? Maybe that was her warm-up act for the texts.”
“Maybe,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced.
“So what do we do?” I ask, as he reaches down to help me up.
“For now, we wait. And you tell me the instant you get another message.”
“I will,” I promise. “What else?”
“Now we try and forget about it, at least for a little while.”
“Oh.” I grin. I like that idea. “Are you heading back to work?”
“Actually, I thought you might want to do some more shopping.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Unless you already got your fill?”
“Of shopping for the baby? Not even close,” I meet his smile with one of my own. “In fact, I found the most darling crib . . .”
13
Damien’s already up by the time the sound of the ocean and the soft light of morning teases me awake. I slide out of bed and stretch, wishing that we could stay here all day. Not possible, though. We both have empires to run.
The thought makes me grin, because it’s true. My empire’s significantly smaller than his, but it’s growing, and if I’m going to keep it chugging along, I need to park myself at my desk and get through some of the initial tasks for Greystone-Branch.
Before that, though, I have one key appointment, and as I look at the clock, I realize that I should probably hurry.
I’d gone to bed naked, and now I pull on a fuzzy robe and tie it around my waist before I head out in search of my husband. I expect to find him in the kitchen, and I’m surprised when I realize that the entire third floor is empty.
The house is ten thousand square feet—large by normal human standards, though small in the world of billionaires—but still plenty big enough for a man to get lost in. When I don’t find him at his desk on the mezzanine level, I assume that he’s gone all the way down to the first floor to take a swim or work out in the gym.
Unfortunately, I’ve assumed wrong.
I’m about to give in and call for him through the intercom when I realize that I know exactly where he is. I head back upstairs to the second floor. Early in our marriage, this floor went mostly unused. Once Syl and Jackson got together and their kids came into our lives, however, we’d furnished one of the rooms as a kid-friendly guest room and another as a playroom. There are still two more rooms that have sat empty, filled with random furniture, miscellaneous boxes of mine, and some packed-up files of Damien’s.
Now, I find him leaning against the door jamb of one of those unused rooms, just staring in at the mess of boxes and scattered, mismatched pieces of furniture.
“Hey,” I say, easing beside him and sliding my hand into his.
“What do you see?” he asks, nodding toward the room’s interior.
“Boxes I need to sort through. I think some of those have clothes I’m never going to wear again.” I tilt my head to look at him and the wistful expression on his face. “What do you see?”
“The crib we bought yesterday against the far wall,” he says, pointing to the spot he’s chosen. “It’s close enough to the window for the ambient light, but far enough away that the sun won’t shine in the baby’s eyes.” He turns to me. “Can you see it?”
I nod, thinking about the sturdy white crib we’d decided on after looking at every single one on display in the upscale baby furniture store. None of them had been quite right, but then we saw one with a headboard design that had two elephants, their trunks twining into a heart shape, and a line of zoo animals stenciled on the outside. It’s absolutely darling, and both Damien and I fell in love with it immediately. It’s a special order, but it will be delivered soon.
“It has a mobile hanging over it,” I say. “Another zoo theme.” I imagine a musical mobile hanging above the crib, tiny giraffes and lions and penguins going around and around above our little girl as she coos and kicks and reaches for the pretty animals.
“And my rocker by the window,” I add. It was the only other piece of furniture we bought yesterday. When we’d set out, Damien had said he wanted to spread out the shopping. To take it slow and savor every moment and only buy one piece per trip.
I was all for that plan until afternoon exhaustion snuck up on me, and I ended up sitting in the most amazing rocker in the history of the universe. And then I informed Damien that there was no way I was leaving that store without being absolutely certain that the rocker would soon be mine.
“We need to figure out colors next,” I say. “And we need a changing table and a chest of drawers and maybe a rocking horse.”
He grins at me. “I don’t think we need the rocking horse just yet.”
“Okay, then. A giant stuffed bear. In fact, a whole menagerie of stuffed animals who can watch over her at night.”
“And a bassinet,” he says. “Because she’s sleeping in our room at first.”
