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“As in the superstar actress?” Lori asks.
“Yes,” Ashley confirms. “Her. She’s the client. David Curry, the equally famous actor, is dead. He overdosed. The police think she gave him the drugs. She says she’s being setup because they hate her father, which we know is true, since Cole represented her father in a securities fraud case, and got him off.”
“And several members of law enforcement fired,” I add for Lori’s benefit.
“She’s holding off the police,” Ashley says, “but she needs you, Cole. I already booked you a private jet. Normal airport and spot. It’s ready now.”
“Didn’t you quit?” Cole asks.
“About that. Can you pick up?”
I grab the line. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Yes. He’s a bastard. I want to come back. Do I have a job?”
“With a fucking raise,” I say. “When can you be here?”
“Two weeks? Can you make it that long?”
“We’ll make it work.”
“Good. Then I’ll book you a hotel room now. Do you need one for Lori?”
“Yes,” I say. “I do.”
“I’ll text you the details. There’s a car waiting on you in the parking garage to avoid party congestion at the front of the building.”
“You did all of this from Paris?”
“And I’ll be doing it from New York City soon. Later, boss.” She hangs up.
I set the receiver down and refocus on Lori. “We’ll go by your place and then mine on the way to the airport.”
“No,” Lori says instantly. “No, I need to—”
“Do your job,” I say, leaning on the desk again. “And with a chance to say you worked on a case this high profile.”
“I’m quite clear on the opportunity this represents,” she says. “I’m anxious to work the case. That’s not the problem.”
No, I think, Lance is the problem. “You’ll get your own room.” I grab a few files and stick them in my briefcase. “Grab whatever you need from the office and let’s go.” I round the desk. “Unless you’ve decided you can’t do the job, because this is the job, Lori.”
“I can and will do the job and do it well,” she says. “I told you. I’m with you. I’m staying, but I’ll meet you at the airport. That’s all I was going to say.”
“I’ll take you by your apartment.”
“I’ll meet you,” she insists. “My mother is perceptive. She’ll figure out there is something between us.”
“Your mother works nights.”
“And we are in a small building where everyone knows everyone.”
She cuts her eyes. She’s lying. I don’t like being lied to, especially by someone I’d actually started to believe mattered to me. I should leave her behind. Fuck. Who am I kidding? There isn’t a chance in hell that I’m leaving her behind. “Let’s go,” I say, rounding the desk.
Lori
Cole and I slide into the backseat of the car, and despite the small space dividing us, we’re miles apart. “Where to?” the driver asks.
I give him the cross street a block down from my apartment, and my fingers curl into my palms, my dread over Cole being anywhere near my apartment building driving me insane. This isn’t how this was supposed to play out tonight. We were supposed to go to his place. We were supposed to do a lot of things. I have a lot of time to think about our talk in his office and his fixation on Lance and what it means. He wouldn’t care about Lance if he just wanted to fuck me. And I wouldn’t have to risk so much for Cole if I just wanted to have sex with him. That’s what I missed in my grand plan to end things tonight, or rather, what I refused to admit. There’s more to my connection with Cole than sex. We’re not the blossom that matures and fails to bloom. We’re that new bud that begins to blossom from the moment it’s given life.
