Trust Me : A Second Chance Romance (The Love Repair Series Book 4) by Nia Arthurs & Sylburn Arthurs

Author:Nia Arthurs & Sylburn Arthurs [Arthurs, Nia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-11T18:30:00+00:00

Nineteen

Hazel

What a long day.

I push open my front door as a soul-crushing sigh bursts out of me. Half the air in my body releases in that moment. My chest rises and falls dramatically.

The door clicks shut. My keys get the rough treatment as I sling them into the decorative bowl. There’s no way I’m flinging my purse, no matter how exhausted I am. I hold my bag tenderly and set it on the table in the foyer.

In rough, jerking movements, I tear off my blazer and kick my shoes to the side.

My phone vibrates in the darkness.

The way my heart jumps on beat is, frankly, pathetic. I dig around my purse until I locate the cell, but I don’t look at the screen.

Hope fills my head and I have to stomp it out before I check.

Graham stopped texting since yesterday. Since I stopped answering. Since I put distance between us.

I’m busy.

True.

Sort of.

After bringing on such a huge client, my case load has doubled. I need to start looking for a partner at the firm because there’s too much to do and only one of me.

Is there more to it?

Maybe?

Maybe I’m scared of how much I want my husband. Maybe I’m terrified of going too hard and too fast and burning out in flames. Maybe I need some space to figure that part of myself out.

Graham probably got the hint, didn’t he? He’s a proud man. Not a great fan of rejection. Up and down chases that seem to be ending one moment and then keep going in the next aren’t his jam. He’s too impatient.

But the quickening of my pulse indicates that I’m hoping the notification is from him.

I check the phone while I hold my breath.

It’s Chloe asking how I am and that we’re due for a girl’s night.

I can barely restrain the disappointment.

“Hoping for someone else?”

My soul jumps out of my body at the sound of a voice that does not belong in this empty, silent house. The blazer skitters out of my hand and sinks in a heap at my bare feet.

Throat dry, I whirl around and face the man in the shadows. “The hell, Graham?”

His golden eyes look dark, heavy and dangerous. His lips flatten into a thin line and I can see it well because his mouth is the only part of him that falls into a square of moonlight.

My eyes drop to the flask in his hands. My flask. That dirty little secret that no one is supposed to know or acknowledge.

His pale fingers are wrapped around it. In a moment, he drags it into the light pouring from the window. In a moment, he illuminates the ugly and most shameful sides of me.

And he has the audacity to look so good doing it too.

Spite boils up in my chest as I look at him—dressed in jeans and a button-down, three top buttons open. Even sitting casually like that, he still stinks of money. Of elegance. Of that upper-class loftiness that’s both terribly ingrained and terribly annoying.

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