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I perch on the red sofa. “Let’s say I believe you—”
“No. Why do you think I wouldn’t? I like women.”
“You like certain women.”
He smiles but there’s a curiosity in his gaze and that heat and smoke and fire is shut away. “I’m equal opportunity when it comes to females.”
I don’t know what that means and so I just repeat, “You were teaching me a lesson. Consider it made. Now, can we do some triage here? I’d like to get to sleep.”
“Yeah, okay.” But I get the feeling he doesn’t want to let go of the conversation, and he’s not going to forget it. Does the man need to conquer every woman? Damn him.
Ryder takes the seat opposite. It’s a black matching chair to the sofa and I smooth the notebook open and don’t look at him. It seems safe that way.
I start making notes as I talk. “One of the things I need you to be aware of is body language, word choices, tone—”
“That’s more than one.”
“You need to do this when you think no one is looking, because someone always is. And alone with someone you don’t know well means no witnesses.”
I’m going to have a full day tomorrow handling the fall out and twisting it to what we need. But two things so close together can work in my favor. No one’s accusing him of anything untoward, it’s more coattail riding, and I can deal with that.
“Yeah, tell me something new.”
“I’m telling you because I have to keep drumming it in, Ryder. You need to play nice, and you also need not to play with anyone of the female persuasion.”
“I’m not.”
A part of me wants to mention yours truly, but I stop myself. I need to get out of here, and I have an idea forming. I stand. “Okay. I’m going to make some calls first thing, and you are going to go about your day in your boring suit. You have an event tomorrow, right?”
He stands, too. “Yes.”
“Good.” I pack everything up. “You owe me more money.”
“You’re already getting a small fortune.” He doesn’t seem particularly bothered.
“Now it’s going to be a bigger one.” I nod at him. “The event?”
“What about it?”
“Send me all the relevant details.” I smile. “Be prepared.”
“Why does that sound ominous?”
“It isn’t,” I say. “You’ll be meeting your new life partner for the next four weeks.”
Chapter Seven
Ryder
All day long, Elliot’s parting words have haunted me.
Life partner?
What the fuck does that mean?
Is she suddenly going to try and spin it that I secretly bat for the other team? It’s an interesting concept, if so, and I know plenty of gay men and women, none of whom fit into any stereotype, but I’m not exactly sure if anyone would buy it. Even for four weeks.
Still, I’m on the Bowery, at the cutting edge gallery where Sinclairs, in conjunction with one of the foundations Magnus set up to show he had heart, and that we’ve all donated heavily to, is having an event. An art show and auction that the hefty ticket price along with donations will go to doing good.
