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ME: I’m spending the weekend in the city so Evan and I can do some stuff.
CHELSEA: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
GWEN: Wrong. Do anything and everything she wouldn’t, if you know what I mean.
CHELSEA: Only what you’re comfortable with.
We were all good friends, but that had never stopped Gwen from considering Chelsea too prudish.
ME: Thanks.
I left the message screen and went back to the flicker of my candlelight for mood when nothing more came in. Tomorrow was a new day. I’d survive and get things sorted out—I always did.
In my heart of hearts, I knew that in a way, I’d brought these problems on myself. It wasn’t fair, but in retrospect, it was predictable. Yes, Zhukov was a vindictive asshole, and yes, Pinky was a punk criminal. And now I had to deal with the consequences of pissing them off. React first, think second—pretty much the story of my life.
Slowly, the warmth of the water eased my anxiety. After a half hour, I checked my prune-like fingers. The water had cooled, and it was time to get out before I became even more shriveled.
The tan towel I pulled from the rack was so soft it made my towels seem like sandpaper by comparison. When I flipped on the lights, I saw the things on the counter and froze—a razor, shaving cream, aftershave, men’s deodorant.
Either Evan lived with another man, or…
Rushing out of the bathroom to the door across from the bed, I pulled open the closet.Holy crap. Kill me.It was a walk-in closet almost the size of my entire apartment. But that wasn’t the problem. It was filled with suits, dress shirts, dress shoes—obviously Evan’s clothes.
I returned to the bathroom, slipped into the bathrobe on the hanger, and paced, considering what that meant. Clearly, Evan had told Sylvester to put my things in his room. Then I noticed the golden bottle alongside his shaving cream—Chanel No. 5, my teenage obsession. Evidence of another woman here scrambled my brain.
* * *
Evan
After droppingoff the wine for Alexa, I poured myself a Macallan, went to my office, and closed the door. The whiskey was to calm my nerves, and the closed door was to create another barrier between me and the temptress who’d taken over my bedroom.
It wouldn’t make it impossible to get to my room, fling open the door, and kiss her the way I should have on the terrace, but it would slow me down. Hopefully the delay would be enough for sanity to prevail and control to return.
At the moment, I’d been sorely tempted. Having her heaving breasts against me had been almost too much. But a kiss could have led to more, andmorewas not what the script of our fake relationship called for.
Since getting to work was the only way I’d get Alexa out of my head, I turned on my computer. Slipping on my headphones, I selected Beethoven and hit play. Classical music had always calmed me in the past.
A glance at the bottle of mezcal on my shelf made me change my mind about the Macallan. I’d drunk from that bottle the night of my fountain incident, and it was on display to remind me of two things. First, cut down on my drinking because I needed a clearer head, and second, never ever drink mezcal again.
I returned to my office after dumping the amber liquid down the drain in the kitchen. Chalk one point for self-control.
Martin had asked me to look at the latest material that had come in on the Northern Aerospace deal. It felt good to keep a foot in the acquisitions side, and this was my first time acting as a mentor. He was going much more slowly on this than I would have, but it was a good learning experience for him.
Two hours later, with a brief break to answer the door and put the food in the kitchen, I had a page of written notes for Martin. I preferred writing them longhand, as I was able to think through my comments more thoroughly that way. After closing everything up and finding nothing interesting in my email, I left the office for the kitchen.
The containers had been opened, which meant Alexa had gotten some food for herself, but oddly, she had not come to find me so we could eat together. Or maybe not oddly at all. Had I scared her with that almost kiss? She had to have sensed what I was about to do before I pulled back.
I spooned out a plateful of the cold food and started on it standing at the island. The note that said I was in the office was still on the granite.
The girl confused me. She’d chosen my room to take her shower. She had to know it was my bedroom. Then, instead of finding me to eat, she had apparently decided to get in my bed and wait for me. All action and no talk. Normally that appealed to me, but not tonight.
If this had been a movie, she could have shown up at my office door in nothing but one of my shirts and asked me when I was going to join her. Then again, Alexa knew how important my work was to me, and maybe she was just being considerate—lying in wait, so to speak.
My blood rushed south as I envisioned these scenarios, but they also terrified me. We had to continue this play-acting as we had been. I couldn’t let this grow into something else. Because the something else would be destined blow up in my face like it always did.
I’d undertaken this with a clear plan, which was my path back to my old job. And I had to get back to that job. That was priority one.
Once I’d finished eating, I cleaned up the kitchen and tried to figure out what words I could use to let her down easy. While I wanted her, she had to stay off limits. The stakes were too high to screw this up.
