Noah took a sip of his wine. She was having trouble explaining it herself. It had taken her a few days to cool down after the meeting with Tony. She had gotten him to sign the paperwork; he was officially a client. Even that had been small solace after being outflanked by Tommy. “You just won Tony Biddle as a new client, something you’ve been working on for a few weeks, and now you don’t seem very happy about it. You’ve been so busy, I’ve hardly had the chance to congratulate you.” “I am happy,” she had already calculated the commission she could receive and had been very happy. She was thinking she might take the money, offer to buy her mother out of her half of the house. That way it would be Caitlyn’s, all hers. They were sitting on the couch at his house, in the study Noah had taken over from his father. He’d made it his own, papers and folders stacked around, not one, but two laptops set up on the desk.
