Page 28 of The Surrender

I’m fidgety the whole way down, running over where to start, who with, what I can copy and paste, what I can’t. And, more importantly, what the hell am I recommending that’s equivalent to the Hollenbeck plan? I can’t even ask Gary, or any of the other partners, because then they’ll know I’ve fucked up. They can’t know I’ve fucked up.

As soon as the doors open, I worm my way past the crowds of people leaving the building and run across the lobby, and I’m thrown when I find one of the Rolls-Royces from Arlington Hall is waiting by the kerb, Humphrey at the wheel.

Jude gets out the back and comes to me, and God, he’s a sight for sore eyes. Suited. Stubbly. Drop-dead gorgeous. “You’re not driving?”

“I had an early dinner with my brother.”

“Which one?”

“The one who recently starred in his very own sex tape.”

“Oh my God, has it surfaced?”

“No.” He grabs my face with both hands and kisses me hard on the lips, a moan of happiness reverberating at the back of his throat. Listless, I absorb every little bit of him against me.

“You look lovely,” I say, as always trying to find air after he’s kissed me like that.

Jude raises his brows and looks down his front. Then he takes in my cream dress. Smirks. “You were wearing this the first time I saw you.”

“It’s a favourite.”

“It should be. You look gorgeous in it. I think it’s one of mine too. Tell me about your day.”

“It started great. One of the partners, Sue, passed on a referral to me. It sounds like a big account to land. But I dropped the ball on a merger and now I’m paying for it, hence it’s ending on a low.”

“It’s not ending on a low. Approximately how many hours of work do you have?”

“Too many.”

He groans. “Okay.” Taking my bags, he claims my hand and leads me to the car. “How’s your hand?”

“Fine if I stop forgetting it’s sewn together,” I mutter, assessing it. More blood.

“Shit, Amelia,” he grumbles, throwing my bags in the back of the car and taking my hand, wincing as he checks it. “Did you change the dressing this morning?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t be smart.” He lifts it to his lips and kisses the edge. “This is being changed before you do anything. Have you got your spare bandages?”

I smirk. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh, you’re a bad, bad girl.”

“Don’t punish me, sir.”

He chuckles and helps me into the car. “Only if you’re lucky.” Once I’m in the seat, Jude helps himself and pulls out my laptop, opening it and setting it on my lap. “Is there anything I can do to help?” His gaze falls down my cream dress as he leans across and puts his mouth to my ear. “Help you relax and clear your mind?”

I go lax, closing my eyes, succumbing instantly to the power of Jude, a hard, intense throb dropping to between my thighs. My toes curl.Fuck. My eyes snap open, and I push him away. “Back off, Harrison,” I warn, opening my documents and gathering myself, willing the buzz inside to fuck off and give me time to fix this crisis.

Throwing me a warning look, he slowly lifts his wrist and looks at his watch. “Get to work.”

I blink repeatedly, trying to moisten my dry eyes, looking up as Humphrey pulls through the gates of Arlington Hall. Stretching feels glorious. I glance across to Jude, who’s lost in the screen of his mobile. “Everything okay?” I ask.

He breathes out. “Rhys’s publicist is being a diva.”

“She’s being a diva how?”

“She’s hell-bent on finding the sex tape that can’t be found, which makes me wonder if it even exists. It’s as if she wants it to be found so she can swing into PR heaven and save my brother’s reputation and career.”