Page 3 of Caging Liberty

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Page 3 of Caging Liberty

I wave her off. “I’m good.”

One brow raises. “I promise I don’t have cooties.”

“Really, you keep it.”

“You’re sure?”

I nod and force a smile. Internally, I’m dying.

She looks inside, and I take the opportunity to roam my gaze over her, seeing her as more and more appealing as the seconds tick by. Forget the event, she may be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

But even more than that, she’s … cute. Young but not naïve. A little sassy. Intelligentandresourceful if she’s a law student using rich, old guys to pay for law school. I’m guessing.

She seems fun. Fresh.Tempting. Even more so than the cigarette.

“Sorry if I offended you, by the way.”

I blink and meet her eyes. “For?”

“I’m assuming you’re here by choice and don’t appreciate my ‘rich people suck’ babble. I’m really just nervous, and this is how I cope with that. Ignore me.”

My eyes lower of their own accord, and I quickly force them back to her face. “No offense taken.”

“I’m Lib,” she says, holding out her hand while the cigarette burns at her side.

I take her hand and squeeze. “Angel.”

“Nice to meet you.”

I dip my chin and let go of her, my fingertips brushing her palm as I pull away. “You as well.”

After taking a final drag of the cigarette, she stubs it out on the century-old, historical stone. My eyes widen, but I bite my tongue.

She glances toward the grand hall again, and I’m almost certain she’s going to head back inside, but her heels stay tipped over on the concrete, and she turns back to me. She’s stalling.

Good. I don’t want her to leave just yet. This is the most engaged I’ve been all day. Sitting through meetings and attending parties is a necessary part of my life, but I’ve practically been sleepwalking for hours.

“Where are you from?” she asks.

I blink. “Pardon?”

“You have an accent.”

My lips twitch, and I lean against the railing. “Spain. Madrid, to be exact.”

“I thought so.” She smiles. “I studied abroad for a semester a couple of years ago. Incredible place.”

I nod. “It is. I miss it.”

“So do I.” She gives me a playful wink, and a shiver crawls up my spine. “What made you move to New York?”

I force my eyes to stay on her face and shuffle my feet an inch in her direction. “I didn’t. I’m only visiting.”

“Ah.” She nods as if that makes sense, for whatever reason.

“I’m enjoying it, though. The women here are interesting.”

And outspoken.




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