Page 11

CHAPTER 11

EMILY

I watch Andy pace the length of his office, frantically dictating as he adlibs his proposed speech for tomorrow night’s charity gala. Dragging a hand through his hair, he contemplates his words, and I’m kind of in awe of just how dedicated he is to the cause.

He clears his throat. “Tonight, one-hundred-and-thirty-two-thousand people will be sleeping in one of the many underfunded homeless shelters in New York City… pause for deliberation.”

I look up, my eyes wide. “One-hundred-and-thirty-two-thousand?”

He nods solemnly. “And that’s only in shelters.” He indicates my laptop as he continues, “Thousands more will be forced to sleep on the streets as the temperature plummets to below thirty-degrees.”

I shake my head, shocked by that number, continuing to type.

“Of this, it is estimated that more than a third of those will be children.”

Andy pauses, gripping the back of his chair and closing his eyes. “Imagine, as a parent, having nowhere to go, having no other option than to sleep on the street in freezing weather, rain and snow… with a child.”

My heart sinks. I knew homelessness was bad in New York City. Growing up here, it’s always been prevalent. But the thought of there being so many innocent children forced to sleep on the streets with their parents—it’s heartbreaking.

“They say Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year, and for many of us it is. Family, gifts, food, warmth, and comfort. But for the homeless people of New York, Christmas is a time of uncertainty, not knowing where their next meal is coming from, or if they will have the safety of a roof over their head for the night.”

“I’m sorry,” I manage through a stifled sob, reaching for the Kleenex box on Andy’s desk and plucking a tissue to dab at the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes.

Andy offers me a small smile. “It’s a hard truth.”

I sniffle. “It’s easy to forget how lucky you are, huh?”

When I look up to see Andy nod at my comment, there’s something else there, a hesitation, and it piques not only my interest, but my concern. My brows knit together as I study him. “Why do you do this?”

He scrubs a hand over his chin, staring off into the distance for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes. “Because I was one of those forty-five-thousand kids.”

“Oh…” I whisper.

He nods again, still staring off into the distance. “I was young and thankfully can’t remember too much. But I remember I had this teddy bear giraffe thing. I took it with me everywhere. Hell, it was all I had. Captain Herschel I think I called him.” He huffs a self-deprecating laugh. “We were staying at this place. Some apartment, I think. It was fucking disgusting. Smelled like cabbage and vomit, and what I now know as weed. There were people constantly coming and going. People fighting. Bad people.”

I frown .

“We got evicted, and I remember my mom crying and banging on the door, pleading with the landlord to let us in. It was all bolted up and we couldn’t get in to collect the rest of our stuff. And all I kept thinking was that Captain Herschel was inside. But I didn’t cry because my mother was so sad, and I thought if I could just be strong enough for the two of us, then maybe everything would be okay.”

I feel fresh tears prick my eyes.

Andy continues with a shake of his head, “She ended up leaving me at a shelter. Left in the middle of the night and just… never came back for me.”

“Your mom left you?”

He nods. “It was for the best. I think she left me there because she knew I’d get the help I needed. And I did. I ended up getting adopted, and my parents gave me the best kind of life. But—” When he finally meets my eyes, a contrite smile ghosting his lips, for the first time I glimpse the pain he keeps hidden, and my heart hurts for him. “ That is why I do what I do.”

I smile through my tears.

The thing is, when you look at a man like Andy Hoffman, in his custom suit, his designer loafers, and his expensive watch, in his sprawling corner office with walls of glass that look out over the sprawling metropolis of Manhattan, you see a powerful man with everything he could ever need or want at his disposal. To hear his story, it paints him in a new light. And I have a newfound level of respect for the man standing in front of me.

“Shall we continue?” I ask, hands poised, ready to scribe.

Andy smiles and I see him think of his next line, but before he can say the words out loud, we’re interrupted as his office door flies open with such haste it slams against the wall. Spinning around, I look over my shoulder in time to see two hulking men practically fall through the doorway before one tumbles to the floor while the other narrowly avoids falling on top of him, collecting himself at the last second.

“What the hell are you two idiots doing?” Andy barks .

Robbie pushes up from where he’s laid out on the floor, smoothing his hair back from his face and brushing down the front of his hoodie.

Dallas readjusts the backward cap he’s wearing, grinning impishly before his gaze lands on me, doing an almost hilarious double-take. Standing taller, he squares his broad shoulders, nodding curtly in my direction while trying to play it cool as if he hadn’t just been wrestling his friend for who could get through the door first like a nine-year-old.

I clamp my lips between my teeth in an attempt to stop my smirk.

“We had a ten o’clock,” Robbie says, checking his watch. He looks at me with a casual smile. “Oh, hey Emily.”

Dallas’s heavy gaze remains on me, but I ignore it, focusing instead on Andy.

“Shit.” Andy groans, running his fingers through his hair. “Okay, yeah, come in.” He looks at me then, offering a rueful smile. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you I scheduled these two knuckleheads in at the last minute before their pre-game. Do you mind if we reconvene later?”

“That’s totally fine.” I wave a hand, standing. “You know where to find me.”

Robbie flops down in the seat next to the one I just vacated, and I turn on my heel. Tugging at my silk blouse, my gaze flits to Dallas, who remains by the door, holding it open for me with a casual smile, like he didn’t send me a late-night text ten hours ago saying I’m lying in bed alone, thinking of you , and a follow up that said, I can’t wait to kiss you again .

When I walk past him, I remain emotionless, casting him a sideways glance, but when I catch the hint of his lips curling up at one corner, I have to look down when I feel my face heat, unable to hide my own smile as I hurry through the door.

The moment I hear Andy’s door click closed, I release the breath I’ve been holding, sagging into my desk chair and trying to slow my thunderous heart .

What the hell was that? Mr. Andy won’t find out was looking at me like I was a goddamn snack and he was ravenous. Sure, Andy is a dedicated man focused on his business, and sometimes he can be oblivious to things that don’t involve HMC, but he’s not stupid.

I shake my head and turn to my computer, connecting my laptop so I can begin drafting the bones of Andy’s speech for tomorrow night. But just as I’m checking my notes, my phone vibrates on my desk, and the moment I spot the name lit up on the screen, my skin pricks—and not in a bad way.

Ignore it, Emily. You have a job to do, and he’s breaking all the unwritten rules by even texting you while he’s in a meeting with the one man who cannot find out…

I blink hard, tamping down my curiosity as I start to type. But then, of course, half-way through the first line, that infuriating curiosity gets the better of me.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, grabbing my phone and unlocking it.

DO NOT ENGAGE: You look beautiful today, Goldie.

“Oh, God,” I groan under my breath, burying my head in my hands trying desperately to ignore the way my heart flutters in my chest.

He’s good. He’s really, really good.

With one simple text, I feel my resolve start to slip.

Let it be documented that I, Emily Cole, am so fucking screwed.