The Note by Natalie Wrye (urban books to read .TXT) 📗

told you about clued me in on Chris Jackson’s possible involvement on a murder charge, I’ve been taking specific steps so that you and your brothers won’t have to take the fall, if this doesn’t turn out well.”

She blows out a long hard breath. A breath I feel in my body as neither one of us backs down. Cynthia straightens in her seat, her brown eyes as molten as the sun-dried earth. “Now, I thought, after our call and all, that priority number one would be to cut all ties between Quinn Real Estate and that fraudulent financier Chris Jackson?”

“It is.” I nod.

“By helping Jase sell your grandfather’s last—for lack of a better word—dirtied property, The Millennium Gardens, associated with Chris Jackson?”

I inhale. “Yes.”

“And I’m guessing you need to be in the right mindset for taking on a sale like this?”

“Of course.”

Cyn sucks in a sharp breath. “I’m just not sure you’re in the right mindset.” She leans closer. “I mean, come on, Noah. You haven’t exactly been yourself these last two months.” She exhales. “Not since the day you came back into town.” Her brown start to shimmer. “I know something had to have happened when you came back.”

The comment steals my breath, knocking me right in the gut.

I experience the eerily familiar feeling of falling, and I stare at Cynthia as if for the first time, feeling myself pale, my skin growing cold at the knowledge that she might know.

Know about my father’s funeral.

My real father’s funeral.

Not that anyone would have recognized me there.

I certainly wasn’t the focus; his other name-bearing children were.

Because when you were the family’s dirty secret, when your mother and your grandfather lied about the affair that resulted in your birth, in the back of your mind? You always somehow felt relegated to the shadows.

That was the price of being “Mr. Perfect.”

Inside, you felt that everyone could see your little secret.

Under that damn dark umbrella at my father’s funeral plot, I’d tried to disappear—just like a little secret—into the cemetery grass, to mingle in on the outskirts of the large mainly Manhattanite crowd. To blend. I can barely inhale, my voice threatening to croak as I prepare to do what I’ve grown best at.

Lie.

I resist the urge to lick my lips as my mouth goes dry.

I lift my chin.

“Maybe you’re right,” I deflect. “Maybe my head is not all the way in the game. But it will be soon. You’ll see.” I turn my head back to my notes, writing fast. “The old Noah will be back before you know it.”

I feign nonchalance as Cynthia folds her hands.

“Rumors are rumors, Noah. They’re bullshit. But if there is some truth to this particular rumor about you having a girlfriend, if there is some semblance of honesty in this Sophia Somerset story? Then I have to admit: I would be glad. Honestly? I would be happy to see a new Noah now. It’s been too long.”

To my surprise, Cynthia smiles and I catch a glimpse of it as my eyes stray back to hers, the air thickening just at the mention of Sophia’s name.

I hold in my impatience as all of Cynthia’s attention focuses on my face.

To my surprise, Manhattan’s best real estate attorney backtracks just as fast, her eyes closing a second just too long, scrunching.

“I’ve said too much,” she exhales. “I shouldn’t even repeat this shit—these rumors. No matter what I’ve seen…or heard. Don’t listen to me…”

A half of a lie.

My truths are much more twisted than I could ever let Cyn know, but her truth is written on her face.

She catches my probing stare, nodding as our gazes clash and guilt twists in my gut.

Guilt that I’m lying. Guilt that I’m just as much of a fraud as the felon we’re cutting ties with, as the mother who raised me, as my beloved grandfather.

I blink away the shame behind my eyelids. “I rarely do listen to you, Cyn. Even when I should. But I promise you: There’s nothing to worry about. Let’s keep these details where they belong: Stuck in the rumor mill…” I take a heavy breath. “And let’s certainly not take any stock in them. I won’t make a mistake like bringing Sophia to the office again.”

I wait. “So is there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

She shrugs, her head tilting. “No… I guess not.”

I lean forward, focusing her attention. “And let me worry about Sophia Somerset…” I hesitate. “Despite what pictures or gossip may have seen coming out of the company printer.”

I hang back, and Cynthia offers up a small smile. “Sure. I just…want us to be careful these days. And I’m sorry for all the premature warnings.” She smirks. “It’s like the Surgeon General’s taken out ad space on my ass.”

“Ugh, please. I can do without the visual, Cyn.”

She balls up a nearby paper, sending it flying at my head on her way out.

The second she’s gone, I take a detour, snatching from the printer all of the materials I’ve found on Sophia, all of the in-office gossip.

Just in case… I remind myself to forward any potential calls from Sophia to the company phone to my cell.

And away from Cynthia, my company, and—most importantly—my family’s prying eyes.

—

SOPHIA

“Do I have the words ‘Annoy Me’ written on my ass? For the last time, Drew, I do not. Have. A. Boyfriend.”

“Lies.” Drew hisses at me, wiping his hands on an off-white towel at the bar. “You were with someone. The night that the movers came to your apartment. And earlier when you came in from lunch today. You had the look of a woman who wants to kill a man, and I’ve seen that look more than most.”

And I believe every word Drew is saying.

But when he says, “And I want to know who. I deserve to know,” I’m no longer listening.

I roll my eyes, picking up a tray as I go to serve my last set of customers of my early shift as the afternoon stretches on. The Alchemist’s