Page 32 of Keep Him Like Secrets

I literally lived just a few blocks away.

But to keep up with the lie, I guess I was hopping on the closest train to, well, anywhere else.

“Fine,” I agreed, starting to walk.

Soren moved to walk beside me, slowing his much longer-legged pace to stay beside me.

Neither of us said anything as we walked down the block, then down the next set of steps toward the mezzanine, the stark fluorescent lights making me wince as the scent of grease, metal, and, well, urine met my nose.

“I thought you had a driver,” I said as Soren fished a MetroCard out of his wallet.

“I do.”

“Then why have a MetroCard at all?”

“Because traffic in the city can be a nightmare,” he said, swiping his card, moving through the turnstile, then waiting for me in the paid zone. “Sometimes, it makes more sense to take the subway. And other times, I just don’t want to bother Calvin if I’m just heading to an early—or late—meeting.”

I had to admit, I liked him a little more, knowing he wasn’t someone who thought his employees’ whole worlds did—and should—revolve around him.

We silently descended another set of stairs, my heels clicking on the concrete as the station shook when a train arrived.

“Have you ever been here before?” I asked as we walked out toward the platform, the crooning of a busker, making Soren immediately reach for his wallet and toss a ten in the man’s open guitar case.

“I kicked around Brooklyn when I was younger, I guess. Here and there. But I spent more time in The Bronx.”

Interesting.

Nothing about this polished businessman made me think he would have spent time in The Bronx, which statistically had the most violent crime of any of the boroughs—just beating out Brooklyn for the top spot, in fact.

As if reading my mind, Soren leaned down a bit. “I’m a lot tougher than I look too.”

There was something in his eyes as he said it that suddenly had me thinking that my first impressions of him weren’t correct. Perhaps he hadn’t been raised with a silver spoon like I’d assumed. Maybe he, like me, had needed to fight past adversity to get where he was.

Like I needed yet another reason to like him.

Or, even more dangerous, respect him.

“Cold?” Soren asked when I crossed my arms, my hands chafing up my bare skin.

I wasn’t cold.

It was kind of balmy down underground, the air getting trapped between trains.

But before I could tell him that, he was shrugging out of his suit jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders. “Here,” he said, pulling it close around the front. “Little big,” he said, giving me a slight smile as the material completely dwarfed me.

I was overwhelmed by the scent still clinging to the material—tobacco and leather—and the way it was still warm from his body heat.

“Thanks,” I said, keeping my gaze lowered, so he didn’t see the desire that I felt coursing through me once again. “That’s me,” I said, having no idea what train was rumbling up through the tunnel, but deciding I was taking it regardless.

“I’ll just wait to make sure you get on.”

“Okay. Well, uh, I’ll… see you tomorrow,” I said as the train pulled up beside us. “Oh, wait,” I said, starting to pull off the jacket.

“Give it back to me tomorrow,” he said, looking past me to give a trio of what looked to be teenage boys a hard look.

That protectiveness should not have had my sex doing a fun little clench. But there was no denying it happened either.

“I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

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