Page 56 of Manhattan State of Mind

I rake a hand through my hair, fighting to keep my composure. This is torture, not being able to comfort her. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

Not that she’s exactly jumping at my offer.

“It’s just a real estate headache,” she spills out quickly. “My apartment’s difficult to sell. I shouldn’t have made the call at work.”

I heave a deep sigh. Ah, the apartment. Perhaps now I can step in, like I wanted to before her memory loss. Now I can fix this mess without her knowing I’m pulling the strings.

“Don’t stress, we’ll get it sorted. We’ll arrange a financial plan for you.”

“What? Oh God, I couldn’t ask…” She trails off, gnawing on her lip. “Well, actually… I guess talking to financial services couldn’t hurt. Thank you.” Her head hangs in shame and I hate it.

“Good. Now, I’m taking you home.”

Her eyes widen like I just suggested we skydive off the Empire State Building. Naked. “Huh?”

“I’m taking you home,” I repeat. “Amanda will get your stuff.”

Flabbergasted, she anxiously massages her neck and edges toward the door. “Sorry for the drama, but there’s no need to send me packing.”

“I’m not sending you anywhere. I’m taking you home. And it’s not open for discussion.” Ideally to my place, but she’s not ready for that yet. “You’ve had enough for today, Lucy. I’m not going to watch you cry at work.” I grab my wallet and keys.

She stares at me, completely blindsided. She opens her mouth to object, but quickly reconsiders when she catches my no-nonsense look.

I flash her a grin, hoping to quell her nerves. “Look, I can’t have an employee threatening to kill another in the office.”

“Bad for PR?”

“Just a touch. Let’s go,” I say gently, motioning to the door, hoping for more enthusiasm.

“I live in Washington Heights. It’s a bit out of the way.”

“It’s fine. I need to check on one of our hotels up north.” Lies.

She silently follows me to the elevator.

I tell Amanda to grab Lucy’s stuff from her desk.

We enter the empty elevator and I hit the button to descend.

Slowly, I swivel to face her, locking my gaze with her anxious, searching eyes.

“Is this your way of personally handing me my pink slip? You think I’m so messed up I can’t handle my responsibilities?”

The words catch me off guard. I retaliate, my voice rougher than I would have liked, the words resonating in the small, enclosed space. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I growl out. “Lucy, for God’s sake, what kind of man do you think I am? That’s not what this is about. Not at all.”

She eyes me warily. “I saw you axe five guys in sales. They didn’t see it coming either.”

I tug a hand through my hair, exasperated. “That’s not what this is. You’re clearly stressed, and I just want to make sure you’re in a place where you can relax.”

“But why the personal chauffeur service?” she fires back, her voice catching slightly.

“Because I want to.”

Her chin lifts in that defiant way I know so well. “You always get your way, don’t you?”

A wry smile tugs at my mouth. “99 percent of the time.”

“And the 1 percent you don’t?”