On shaky legs, Angelina sank back down onto the couch. “You knew my aunt?”
“When we were younger we attended many of the same social events. She was always pleasant and positive. I understood why she withdrew from our circle, but I’ve thought of her often over the years. I wish I’d done more to remain in contact.”
Hold on, Aunt Rudi had known Sophie Barrington? No. She would have told me that.
Wouldn’t she?
As Angelina thought about it, she realized there were chunks of her aunt’s life they’d never discussed. Sure, Angelina knew her aunt had once been part of New York’s high society, but—wow.
“Why did she withdraw?” Angelina voiced the question that took hold of her.
Sophie didn’t answer immediately, quiet long enough that Angelina regretted asking. She couldn’t imagine her aunt doing anything illegal or immoral, but if she had, perhaps that was an indiscretion best laid to rest with her. When Sophie did speak, her voice was gentle. “I wasn’t privy to her reasoning, but it followed her divorce. These things happen. She pulled away. No one thought she wouldn’t return.”
“She was married?” Angelina had gone through her aunt’s papers after her death. There’d been no mention of a marriage in any of them. “She never told me.”
“Oh, dear. I’m sure she had her reasons. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
There was such concern in Sophie’s voice, Angelina felt compelled to reassure her. “No, it’s okay. My aunt was one of the finest human beings I’ve ever known. I still miss her every single day. I guess I’m like a child realizing my parents had a life before me, that’s all. Was it an ugly divorce?”
“Very. Despite their breakup being clearly his fault, he didn’t handle her departure well, and because of that, unlike her, he became a persona non grata.”
“That must have been so difficult for her.” Aunt Rudi was the epitome of a soft-spoken, well-educated woman. For her to withdraw from her friends and essentially hide in New Jersey, it really must have been an ugly situation. Not much had ever seemed to intimidate Aunt Rudi. This explained so much, though. Aunt Rudi’s compassion for Angelina’s broken heart. Her insistence that Angelina didn’t need a man.
Sophie sighed. “I should have done more for your aunt. We weren’t close, but I could have reached out to her. It happened a long time ago and during a period of my life when I was struggling with my own demons. That’s not an excuse—just a fact. I’m sorry I didn’t attend her funeral. So much time had passed—”
There was a pause in their conversation. The few times Angelina had imagined what it would be like to meet the powerful woman, she’d never imagined the conversation would be as heartfelt and personal. “My aunt always spoke highly of you. Not every friendship is meant to last a lifetime, but she had only good to say about you and your family.”
Sophie sniffed before saying, “I’m sorry. This was not the reason I called at all.” She cleared her throat. “I wanted to talk to you about Connor Sutton.”
That snapped Angelina back to sitting up straight. “Okay.”
“I heard you declined a job offer from him.”
The whole call felt surreal. Sophie Barrington wanted to talk to her about Connor Sutton? What in the world was going on? “I did. It was nothing personal. I’m looking for something closer to where my son will attend school.”
“You have to do what’s best for your family, of course. I probably shouldn’t get involved, but I adore Connor. He is truly the sweetest soul.”
Sweet? That wasn’t the first word Angelina would have used to describe him. “I’m sorry. I’m confused. Is this about the job?”
“Yes and no. I couldn’t stand back silently and simply hope this works out. The days of me doing that are over. If it’s not too much, I have one request. I understand you don’t know me or owe me anything, but I would forever be grateful if you made me one promise.”
Angelina took a moment before answering. “If it’s one I’m comfortable with—sure.”
“Whatever happens between you and Connor—be kind to him. He’ll act like nothing bothers him, but he is all heart. If you’re looking for a good man who will do just about anything to make sure you have what you need . . . that’s Connor. He’ll make you laugh and be your biggest cheerleader. You can be yourself with a man like him. He needs someone who will love him—all the wonderful sides of him.”
Wow, that was a lot to take in. “Mrs. Barrington—”
“Sophie, please.”
“Sophie, I’m afraid you may have confused me with someone else. I’ve only met Connor one time, and it was to give him a tour of a school. He did offer me a job, but we’re not—we’ve never . . .”
“Then take the position with the Landon Foundation. See where it goes. If nothing else, you’ll have a good addition to your résumé if you decide not to stay. A recommendation from Clay Landon will open many doors for you.”
It would. Still, the whole thing felt disingenuous. “I’m not clear on the expectations of this employment opportunity. Is it reliant on me agreeing to ‘see’ Connor? I feel uncomfortable with the whole idea. I believe I should stay with my initial instinct and respectfully decline the opportunity.”
“Oh, dear. Have I made things worse?”
Angelina didn’t like to lie. “A little.”
“He’s such a sweetheart. I do hope you change your mind. He really likes you. I probably shouldn’t have said that, either. I’m hanging up now. Good luck. And now that you have my number, regardless of how things turn out with Connor, don’t hesitate to call if you ever need anything.”
“Thank you,” Angelina said and continued to feel a bit dazed by the conversation after Sophie hung up. She sat there, phone on lap, going over everything Sophie had said . . . then every interaction she’d had with Connor.
He likes me.
I kinda got that from his offer to take me to dinner in Venice.
I can’t work for him.
She called Aly, who thankfully picked up right away, then added Joanna to the call. This story was too incredible to tell twice. After she brought them both up to speed, she asked them for their advice.
“You have to take the job. How can you even think about not?” Joanna exclaimed.
“I’m in agreement. This is next level romantic,” Aly said.
“Is it? He offered me a job because he hopes I’ll sleep with him. There are laws against that, aren’t there?”
Joanna said, “Hear that sound? That’s me slapping myself in the forehead because I can’t believe you are considering turning down an opportunity I would kill for. Sophie Barrington told you what this is about. He likes you. You turned down his dinner offer. You have a gorgeous, rich man, trying to figure out how to spend more time with you and you’re putting a bad spin on it? Please, give him my number.”
Am I putting a negative spin on it?
Aunt Rudi wouldn’t have approved of any part of this, because it’s wrong. Or because some man hurt her so badly she never gave another man a chance to?
I know what it’s like to be used and tossed aside.
Is that the only lens I see men through now?
The only way I’ll ever be able to?
Aly piped in. “The situation is unusual, I agree, but sometimes life tosses us life-changing opportunities. Most people aren’t brave enough to take the leap of faith and go for it. Evaluate this as I would. Best case. Worst case. Is the possibility of the first worth the potential of the second?”
“Best case? You mean with the job? Or with Connor?”
“Both,” Aly said. “Either.”
“I guess the best case would be I love the job . . . and marry a movie star? Does this even sound realistic?”
Ignoring the question, Aly asked, “Worst case?”
That was a harder one to answer. “The job doesn’t work out and I discover Connor Sutton is a pervert with connections.”
“Wow, you really are a pessimist
,” Joanna said.
“Aly asked for worst case,” Angelina defended.
Aly added, “I don’t think Sophie Barrington would call to convince you to take a job for a pervert. Is that really the impression you have of Connor Sutton? It didn’t sound that way when you described him to us the other day.”
“No,” Angelina conceded. “No, he didn’t come across that way at all. I can’t picture him doing anything inappropriate.”
“Then I’d take the job,” Aly said with conviction.
“Seriously?” Angelina asked, and her heart started to pound at the possibility. “Mrs. Tellier started working there already because she wanted to. How bad could it be?”
“That’s my almost optimistic friend,” Joanna joked. “Good for you. Don’t forget to call me daily with updates. I’m going to live vicariously through you on this one.”
“Me too,” Aly said with a laugh.
Angelina twirled a hand through her loose curls. “If I say yes to this job, what would I do with Whitney during the day?”
“What job?” Whitney asked as he hopped over the back of the couch and took a seat beside her.
“Talk to you two later,” Angelina said, ending her call with her two friends who both wished her luck. She turned to her son. “I was offered a position at an office for the Landon Foundation in New York City. Interestingly enough, Mrs. Tellier was hired there first.”
“Hey, she got you a job. That’s great. See, things work out.”
“Yeah. I guess. Anyway, if I take the job, I’d be commuting into the city. That would be too long of a day for you to be here alone.”
“So, we’d have to move to the city?”
It was difficult to tell if he liked the idea or not. “Probably.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“We’d have to get you into a school there.”
“Okay.”
Just like that? “It would be a big move for both of us. Are you sure?”
“I’ve been looking at schools affiliated with Columbia University. Some of them are in New York and two of them have awesome soccer teams.”
It was the first time Whitney had seemed excited about choosing a potential school to enroll in. “If you’re onboard, I’ll tell them I’ll take the job contingent on finding an apartment and a school you like.”
“You can do that?”
Angelina’s face warmed as she remembered the way Connor had looked at her before she’d offended him. “I think so. They seem to really want me.”
By “they” I mean Connor.
And I’m either bravely taking a leap of faith because this is a life-changing opportunity I’d be crazy to pass up.
Or . . . nope, I’m not going to put a bad spin on this.
Connor Sutton . . . please be the man Sophie Barrington thinks you are.
Chapter Nine
Two weeks later, Connor paced back and forth in front of Kimmie’s desk. Mrs. Tellier called out from her desk across the room. “You’ll wear the rug out if you keep that up.”
Connor paused and adjusted the sleeves of his jacket. “Are you sure today is the day she’s scheduled to start? It’s nine fifteen.”
Kimmie didn’t turn to check her calendar. “I told her it was okay to be here by ten. Her son started at his new school today as well. She’ll be here.”
“Her office is all set?” he asked.
“Everything is ready for her,” Mrs. Tellier assured him.
“I actually have a few phone meetings scheduled this morning. We’re looking into buying an apartment building in downtown Brooklyn. I’m coordinating with some local urban renewal experts to rejuvenate not just the building, but also the area surrounding it. If we do this right, the families of veterans will have an affordable community option. Clay has the job-assistance program in place. The medical support. I’m adding a community center and a park.”
Kimmie’s smile was bright. “And you weren’t sure you could do this.”
He looked at her with a confident smile. “It’s a big endeavor, but these families have no money, and I completely know what that’s like. They don’t want a handout—they want opportunities.”
Mrs. Tellier sighed. “If Angelina doesn’t marry you, I’ll marry you myself.”
Connor’s hands went cold and he cleared his throat. “I never said I wanted to marry her. Let’s take this whole thing down a notch. She needed a job. I wanted to see her again. She may not want to date me.”
Kimmie chuckled. “You’re adorable when you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous. Women throw themselves at me all the time. That’s all Angelina is—just another woman. You both need to relax.”
“We need to relax?” Mrs. Tellier joked.
Connor stopped when he realized he’d begun pacing again. He’d had two weeks to think about this day and plan how he would act. If he didn’t calm down he was going to blow it. “Don’t you two have a book to work on?”
“Yes, sir,” Kimmie said with a salute.
“Connor,” Mrs. Tellier said in a more serious tone.
Connor had already started walking toward his office. He stopped and turned. “Yes?”
“Just be yourself and you’ll do fine,” she said.
He nodded then walked through his office door and closed it behind him. Myself? I don’t even know who that is anymore.
He moved to stand at the large window behind his desk and looked out over the city. His brother Dylan wanted to know when he intended to start his next movie. His agent was asking the same thing.
Connor had a pile of scripts to read through.
He hadn’t started any of them yet.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy acting. Hell, he still couldn’t believe how much people got paid to pretend to be someone else. The problem was he felt like acting didn’t stop when he stepped off the set. Part of him wanted to walk away from all of it, but he couldn’t.
He loved his family and this was now who they were.
Working for Clay’s foundation was surprisingly more rewarding than intimidating . . . as long as he remembered to be the Connor Sutton his fans thought he was. Was it worth it? Hell, yes. The more families he met through the program, the more he realized the enormity of the impact he could have on their lives. It was humbling. Such power belonged in the hands of a better educated man, someone more deserving.
All I can do is my best to make things happen for them and try not to fuck up.
His first business call rang through. He did his impression of Bradford and negotiated the cost of the building down significantly, then put them on hold for no reason other than to make them wait. Working off the advice he’d received at his last meeting with his team, he returned with a non-negotiable list of things that would need to be fixed on the building. When the seller agreed to them, Connor nearly let out a whoop, but kept his cool.
He couldn’t break character. Not while so many were relying on him.
Claire called him next to remind him of a photo shoot the next day he’d agreed to months earlier. It was for an online subscription calendar, the proceeds of which went to support local animal rescues. Who could say no to helping puppies and kittens?
“What should I wear?” he’d asked.
She’d laughed. “They provide the outfits, but the theme is you on the beach throughout the seasons. Apparently women want to see that chest of yours twelve months of the year.”
Great. Thankfully, he wasn’t self-conscious. There was a difference between being on a beach, though, and prancing around in trunks in a studio while someone called out for him to smile more, or less, or differently.
It took acting to a whole new level.
After hanging up, he pocketed his hands and let out a long sigh. Any moment, Angelina would walk in. In his fantasy, he swept her into his office, popped open two ice-cold beers, and laid the whole messed up story out for her. They laughed, she proclaimed the real him was so much sexier than his public persona, they fucke
d on his desk and lived happily ever after.
Sometimes his fantasy involved that leading to them fucking on his couch.
A few times against the wall.
Once in front of the window.
More than once on the plush rug.
He’d had enough time to think about this that he’d imagined some creative things they could do with the other furniture in the room as well.
It was a dangerously addictive fantasy to indulge in. The reality of their relationship was that so far she’d said no, followed by no with a side of hell no.
And now she works for me.
Why did I think this was a good idea?
There was a chance seeing her again wouldn’t live up to the hype. Two weeks of thinking about her might have built her up to be more than she was. Sure, she was pretty, but was she really the best-looking woman he’d ever met? In male time, two weeks was practically an eternity. When he finally did see her again whatever zing had been might be gone.
It wasn’t as if he’d pined for her for fourteen days. He’d gone to dinner with a couple of women. Both had asked him out. He’d had no reason to refuse.
He hadn’t fucked either of them, though. Which was—unsettling.
They’d both been beautiful.
They’d both been funny.
Smart too.
Somehow, though, his dick had stayed in his pants . . . on strike. Connor would have been concerned, would have rushed to the nearest doctor, if it weren’t for the fact that every time he thought about seeing Angelina again he got an instant boner.
He glanced down at the tented front of his pants. Dude, since when are you so picky?
He’d tried to talk to Dylan about his dilemma. After Dylan had stopped laughing . . . something that had taken a good amount of time . . . he’d assured Connor there was a cure. Sex with Angelina, even one time, would solve the issue. Men only obsessed about what they couldn’t have.
That was Dylan’s theory, anyway.
Reluctantly Alpha (The Barrington Billionaires, Book 8) Page 11
