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His stiff manner reassures me he isn’t interested in Monica, no matter what their past might have been, but by the end of the exchange, I feel bad for her. Midas is an imposing man, and I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of his displeasure. Is that how he’ll treat me if we ever run into each other after tonight? Who am I kidding? There’s no way we’ll see each other again. We run in completely different circles.
“I was civil,” he says, seemingly surprised.
“Civil, yeah.” My laugh is a little more cynical that I want, but I can’t help thinking I’m about to be the next Monica. “She clearly expected more than civil, and you brushed her off as coldly as a king commanding a servant.”
His brow wrinkles. It’s unnerving seeing this confident, assertive man confused. His head tilts, like he’s trying to make sense of what I’m saying.
I sigh. “You slept with her, right?”
“I told you as much.”
“Well, she clearly thought that meant something.”
He shakes his head. “I was upfront with her. She knew it was a momentary release, nothing more.”
“Well, she didn’t think you were serious.”
Will I be like that too? Ignoring what he says and hoping for something that’s not there?
I can already tell he’s honest to a fault. As blunt as an old sword. So I believe he’s telling the truth about wanting to sleep with me. But I’m suddenly not sure I want to get too close and become the next cast-off pining after him.
Do I really want to be that girl?
Chapter 3
When the man in the teal suit steps back into the room, he’s carrying an armful of dresses in all different shades and colors and fabrics. “I’m gonna put these in the first dressing room on the right.”
He gives me a wide smile as I step off the platform, intending to follow him down the hall. “I’m Tomás, by the way.”
“Jess,” I say, palm to the middle of my chest.
“She’ll be changing out here.” Midas’s firm voice stops us both before we’ve made it a few steps across the room.
He’s sitting with his arms spread on the back of the couch and his ankle crossed over his knee. His posture is relaxed and confident, but his eyes are intently focused on Tomás. If looks could kill, this one would obliterate.
I’m so stunned, I’m not even sure how to react.
Tomás places a hand on my back, gentle pressure to turn me back towards the dressing rooms. “She can show you the dresses, but we don’t let people change out in the main room.”
Midas leans forward with his forearms resting on his knees. His nostrils flare and there’s a low rumble that must be a loud car outside because there’s no way it’s coming from him. “Take your hand off her.”
“Midas, it’s—”
“If you touch her again, I’ll make sure Monica fires you.”
Okay, this is too far. “Enough. You can’t threaten someone for simply being a good salesman and showing me where the dressing room is.”
Monica must hear the commotion because she comes rushing back in, eyes swollen, but wearing a forced smile I admire.
“Your boy needs to leave. Give him the day off.” Midas still hasn’t stopped glaring at Tomás.
Monica tries to hide her confusion with a chipper, “That’s a good idea. You haven’t had a day off in a while. With the shop closed, I can handle Midas and his… guest.”
Tomás hesitates for a minute, then whispers to me, “Are you okay?”
Surprisingly, I am. Midas might be acting like a jealous neanderthal, but I still oddly feel like I can trust him. He might be demanding, but I’m certain if I told him I didn’t want to do something, he’d back off.
Tomás gives me one more smile and then disappears into the back room.
