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“Okay.”
She blinks at me. “Okay?”
“Yes. Let’s have some fun. Things today went well and you actually somehow managed to make tomorrow’s load a lot easier. The rest of the week’s actually. Good job.” I stop. I don’t want to talk about work. Not right now. “So yeah, let’s have fun.”
After all, it’s not like I’m going to cross lines. Just perhaps dabble with them, push and nudge them. That is, if I feel like it. And she smells so unbelievably good.
“You want to have fun? I thought there was a law against it in Hudson Martini world.”
I grab my phone, wallet, and keys from the side table just inside the door, pull it shut and lock it, and then I gesture to the wide world of Manhattan that’s my doorstep. “No law. I’m not against fun, Scarlett. I just don’t have much time or use for it in my life.”
“That’s sad.”
Is it? I never missed it. But Scarlett has a way of getting into the blood and twisting things up. She’s a game changer. And to me it’s a revelation that her work clothes are chameleon, like her, something I’d never put together until now. She’s not flashy, but she could fit in most places. She’s got a mouth on her, but she’s able to work with all kinds of situations, from how she handled people at my event, to having the guts to stand up to me.
It’s there, she hides it, but it’s there.
And I don’t know why I’m thinking this at all, except it’s like I’m seeing her all at once for the first time and a layer melted away.
But right now, I don’t want to go there or put my head in the game. The light buzz in my veins ticks up when I grab her hand and lead her down to the street. I don’t want that to go.
“Well, maybe you can do something about it, Scarlett.”
She looks up at me and a smile breaks free. “Oh, no. That’s like a get out of jail free card. Why don’t you show me you can do something about it.”
“Okay,” I say, not letting go of her hand, “you’re on.”
The bar in Dumbo is popping, as they say, but it’s some place I know as I own property here, near the waterfront amongst the cobblestoned streets and high-end stores and everything that makes it so sought after. The up-close view of the Manhattan bridge isn’t bad, either.
“You’re into Brooklyn?” Scarlett asks, leaning in close to be heard over the noise in the glass and industrial steel vibe bar with plants and swathes of artistically deconstructed white paint on the walls.
I shrug and take a swallow of my Scotch. “I’m not against it.” I eye her again. It’s an easy thing to do as we lounge on the bench in the corner.
She’s good to be around, and that’s been the deal the whole time, not some new thing. The revelation is more me than her. Me not fighting it. I don’t like stepping into territory I haven’t studied and dissected and weighed up.
That’s what this whole thing is, my rash decision. Because for me it was rash. But if I let myself lean into it, then the natural attraction between us works.
It works in my favor, and I need it to work.
She fidgets with her drink. Gin this time, the purple stuff that changes to pink because of whatever flower is used. I don’t really keep up with the latest trends like Ryder. I like it simple and quality because that’s where depth and complexity and reward lie.
“So, about all this,” she says, not looking up.
I glance about, deliberately obtuse. “The bar? Or Brooklyn?”
Her sharp glance makes me smile. Most people would hide that irritation under careful layers because they know who I am. Not Scarlett. What seemed rough edged and gave me doubts is the breath of everything I need and refreshing. “No.”
“What about the contract?” A sliver of something cold and liquid runs down my spine. “You seem like you have something on your mind. Do you want out?”
“No, I…I was thinking, we should talk.”
I sigh. “Yeah, we probably should. I was just thinking, too.”
“You were?”
“I need this to work out, Scarlett. You know that. But I think seeing my brothers tonight brings that home.”
“You’re already rich,” she says softly, “are they worth that much?”
