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“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Does she know that?” I counter. “She seemed pretty possessive of you.” That’s putting it mildly.
“Aw, are you jealous?”
“Ugh. You’re such an ass.” I want to end the call, but my hand refuses to obey a simple command and hang up the phone.
“Why? Because I have a past?” He laughs. “That’s hardly fair, princess. I’m sure you have one I wouldn’t like either.”
You have no idea.
“Sometimes history doesn’t stay in the past.” I swallow the bile crawling up my throat. That’s just a little too much truth.
“She’s just a friend, Phoebe.”
“She’s still in love with you.” Half of me wonders if I’m making accusations or simply baiting him.
“Maybe,” he admits. “But the feeling’s not mutual, so I’m not concerned.”
I rub my forehead and sigh. My impatience with this Monday morning has peaked, and I haven’t even had coffee yet. “Julian, I’m at work. I’m not having this—”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” The roughness in his voice rakes over all my exposed nerves. “I know you feel it too.”
“You kissed me,” I point out.
“You kissed me back, princess.”
Damn that word…
“My name is Phoebe.” I can’t take anymore of this. “Please stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Everything. Calling me. Contacting me. Sending me things. Forget I exist, Julian. It was a mistake.”
“What are you so afraid of?” he demands in that low tone.
Pausing, I search the office for eavesdropping ears before answering. Thankfully, everyone seems to be away from their desks. “I’m not afraid, all right? Look, I have to—”
“Don’t hang up on me, Phoebe,” he warns.
He flusters me, and I can’t afford to be flustered at work. “Don’t call my office again.” Anticipating his next protest, I add, “Don’t worry about the press conference notes. I’ll figure something out.” Replacing the receiver, I drop my head into my hands.
Why won’t he just leave me alone? Why does he have to be so goddamn stubborn?
Jerking my keyboard out from under my desk, I push our conversation out of my mind. The Lords of Lyre article deadline is due by the end of the day. If I plan to bullshit my way through it, I’ll need to do preliminary research.
If I’m lucky, I’ll find some insider information online from the after-party. The irony isn’t lost on me. If I’d had the time to do this before the damn party, I wouldn’t be in this situation.
And if I’d never stepped foot in Club Vanquish, my life wouldn’t be so fucked up.
* * *
Two hours later, I’ve collected five pages of research on Julian Bale, Lords of Lyre, and Surge Records.
Julian’s freakish phone call had delayed my morning trip to the breakroom and put me in a serious caffeine deficit, so I decide to return the MetroGroup calls after refueling.
Swiping my coffee mug, I rise from my chair when my desk phone rings again.
