Damien
Holding tightly to Ella's hand, we hurried along the sidewalk as fast as the Louboutins would allow her to walk. While Michael had offered to drive, both the Union Boutique and Van's office weren't far from the hotel. Despite the chill in the air, it was a pleasant day. Hardy Wisconsinites were out and about up and down the city's main streets.
“Are we far from Mr. Sherman's office," Ella asked.
“No." I tilted my chin toward a three-story building with a brick façade. “It's right there."
She stopped walking. “Then I'm fine. I don't need a coat."
I tugged her forward, stepping in front of what had been a historical bank. “As luck would have it, we're at the boutique the hotel clerk recommended."
“I don't think—"
Pulling her closer, chest to chest, I leaned down. “I don't re
