looked out over the city.
For a moment, as he stood in profile, Chloe felt like she was watching a beautiful film star in a movie. The way the sun hit his face, illuminating his hair and skin, while casting part of him in shadow.
It was the perfect illustration of who Brody Hawk seemed to be.
Light and shadow.
The accessible along with the mysterious.
Finally, she joined him over by the edge of the terrace and stood a foot or two away from him, looking at the majestic skyline.
“Not bad, huh?” he said, still looking out.
“It’s the most incredible view,” she said, looking down for a moment, just long enough to feel that strange sense of vertigo you could have from such a vantage point. She blinked and looked away, stepping back from the edge.
Brody turned and reached for her arm. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, closing her eyes momentarily. “I just got dizzy for a second.”
His warm hand felt strong and protective as he held her forearm lightly but firmly. “It will pass,” he said.
She opened her eyes and found herself staring directly at Brody, and he at her. His green eyes were so intent and focused, she was almost frozen in place by them.
“I’m okay,” she said, trying to gather herself. Her heart was beating very quickly, and now she felt on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.
Everything suddenly seemed strange, surreal and eerie.
The sky above her seemed all too big, too wide and expansive, and Chloe had the sense that she might just float off the terrace and up into the air and never stop—a helium balloon let loose, floating up and up and up.
“You don’t look okay,” Brody replied, his hand still on her arm.
She didn’t know how to react. She was growing frightened—this was all too much, too sudden, the changes so big as to overwhelm her. She felt completely out of her depth, like she was standing at the edge of a cliff.
Brody Hawk was a force of nature, a human being with a life and personality big enough to consume her completely if she stayed too close to him for too long. “Maybe I don’t feel so good,” she said.
“You probably just need some food,” he said.
“I don’t think so.” She pulled away from him. “I think I should go home. Get some rest.”
“Chloe,” he said, letting her go. “You’re fine.”
“I’m just not feeling well. I’ll be better after some sleep.”
“You can sleep here,” he said.
“I don’t want to sleep here!” Chloe shouted. Her voice sounded much louder than she’d intended. “You’re pushing me,” she followed up, even more aggressively than she’d intended.
Brody’s lip twitched, but it didn’t seem to be like a smile. It was something else—perhaps the first sign of real frustration.
Chloe found that she liked it, liked knowing that maybe there was someone or something human in there after all. Something behind the impenetrable shell of Brody’s gorgeous good looks and superhuman charisma.
“Of course I’m pushing you. I push the people around me to be better,” he said. “I don’t accept mediocrity. And this is a working lunch, remember? That means you go home when I say, and not a moment sooner.”
“I haven’t signed any contract yet,” she retorted.
This was good. Arguing with him helped to take her mind off the panic, the sense of being sucked off the terrace and into the big blue sky—the building pressure in her chest that made her feel like she might be drowning in the ocean of Brody Hawk’s immense personality.
“You verbally agreed,” he said, his body still relaxed, but now suddenly more forceful as he moved forward.
She was reminded of how he looked in the ring, the few clips she’d seen of him as he danced around an opponent so fluidly, almost like he was doing ballet, and then suddenly throwing a vicious barrage of punches that would send them falling unconscious to the canvas.
“I need to see the contract,” she said, hanging on for dear life in the
Marina Dyachenko, Sergey Dyachenko