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“Not right now,” Simon answered automatically.
Sam swaggered to the door, not a hair out of place, his suit and tie undisturbed. No one would ever know that he had just watched his younger brother practically have a nervous breakdown before his eyes.
Sam placed his hand on Simon’s door. Before he could exit, Simon called after him in a husky voice. “Sam?”
Sam turned back with a quizzical expression. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for listening.”
The look that passed between them spoke volumes. Simon wanted to tell his brother how much he cared, but a lump formed in his throat. They sparred like brothers often did, but Sam had sacrificed a lot for Simon and his mother. Worked his ass into the ground for all these years.
“Nobody deserves happiness more than you, little brother. It’s within your grasp. Take it,” Sam answered, his voice full of brotherly support, as he exited without another word.
Blowing out a shaky breath, Simon stood and grabbed his briefcase, looking around the plush, executive office. Other than his desk and chair, everything was decorated in art deco, a design that he really didn’t like. How in the hell had that happened?
The office had been done years ago, but he’d never really noticed, never really cared.
Maybe because you told the decorator to do whatever she wanted.
Yeah, that’s exactly what he had done years ago. He couldn’t have cared less what decor the interior designer chose. He came to work, took care of business, and retreated back to his condo so he could immediately bury himself in his lab at home. Maybe he grunted a greeting to his secretary and personal assistant when he arrived and departed from the high-rise building every weekday morning. Or maybe not. He was usually so hyper-focused on work, so enclosed in that bubble, that he didn’t even remember.
He jerked at the knot in his expensive burgundy tie to loosen it and undid the top button of his shirt. Christ, how he hated wearing a suit.
Careful with the tie. It’s one of Kara’s favorites.
Actually, that might not be true. He wasn’t exactly certain that shehada favorite. She told him every morning how handsome he looked when he arrived in the kitchen, dressed for work in a business suit and tie. But the very first time she had told him that, he had been wearing this tie. Since that day, he found himself reaching for this particular tie pretty damn often on his workdays.
He snorted softly as he walked toward the door of his office, his stride nearly silent on the plush carpet. Christ, he was going off the deep end.
When had he started caring which tie he wore, how his office was decorated, whether or not he was cordial to his employees every day?
It was definitely time to go home.
Home. Kara makes me think of the condo as home. Her laughter. Her voice. Her smell. Her very presence makes it home, and not just a place where I go when I’m done in the office.
He exited the office, letting the door close softly behind him. He glanced at Nina’s desk, halting abruptly in front of it.
“You need something, boss?” Her tone was professional, but she had a genuine smile on her face.
He looked over the top of an abundant bouquet of roses that was placed prominently on her desk, frowning at his gray-haired assistant. Had he forgotten her birthday? No. No, he hadn’t. Nina’s birthday was in September. And his secretary, Marcie, always reminded him. “Nice flowers. What’s the occasion?” he asked curiously.
Nina gave him a puzzled look, peering at him over her reading glasses. “Boss, it’s February fourteenth. Valentine’s Day. You know...hearts, flowers, romance.” The little woman’s smile broadened. “My Ralph has sent me two dozen red roses every Valentine’s Day for thirty-seven years.” She sighed. “He’s still so romantic.” Her voice vibrated with affection and adoration.
Valentine’s Day? Yeah, he knew the holiday; he had just never paid any attention when it came and went every year. It was just another day, a twenty-four-hour period of time when he saw a lot of Cupids and red hearts-when he chose to notice them, which wasn’t very often.
He shot a quick glance at his blonde secretary, her desk situated next to Nina’s. “Where are your flowers?”
Marcie paused, turning her head toward him and away from the computer on which she had been clicking away on diligently before his question. “Haven’t gotten them yet. My hubby will give them to me before we go out to dinner. He always does.”
“Uh...is this normal? Dinner? Flowers?” He looked back at Nina with a scowl. Shit, he hadn’t planned anything for Kara. She deserved romance, hearts, flowers, and whatever else a man did for a woman on a day for lovers.
“It depends. Most couples make their own traditions,” his assistant answered, her eyes questioning. “Are you okay?”
Damn it. He didn’t know what to do and he hated that feeling. What else was traditional? What else would make a woman happy, feel cherished? Had Kara gotten flowers from her ex? Had he taken her out for dinner?
Setting his briefcase on the floor, he tried to squash the jealousy and possessiveness that were rising up inside him. It didn’t fucking matter what some man had done for her in the past...Simon was determined to do better. She was his woman now. His to protect. His to cherish. He wanted to make her Valentine’s Day so memorable that all she could think of washimfrom this day forward. Except he had no idea how to accomplish his goal.
He leaned over Nina’s flowers and told her in a hesitant, low voice, “Kara.”