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“What? I didn’t do anything. But thanks for the reminder that she’s single, Lo.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Ms. Bianchi. I want to know more about you. I heard you’re a doctor, and I think doctors are pretty hot.”
He starts to lead me away, but we’ve barely moved before Carlo’s hand is clamping over Khalil’s, which is currently wrapped around my shoulder. Carlo wrenches it away before once again placing himself between me and Khalil. I sigh, growing tired of the situation.
“Careful, Carlo. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were playing with fire,” Khalil says.
I am so confused. What are they talking about?
“Astoria was just about to go get dressed,” Carlo snaps.
“I was?”
He turns to look at me with a don’t-fuck-with-me expression. I glare at him, but he’s right. I’m only in his T-shirt, and it’s not even semi-appropriate attire to be wearing in front of Khalil.
A voice in my head whispers that it’s not appropriate attire for Carlo either, but I ignore it and start walking toward the bedroom. Carlo has pulled Khalil aside and their conversation has been reduced to hushed whispers. I cast one last glance at them before disappearing into the room.
Once inside, I sit on the bed and take a few moments to think about everything that’s happened since I walked into this house yesterday. It’s honestly a lot and I’m not sure where to even start unraveling it all. I’m not even sure I can. The entire time I spend getting dressed, all I can do is keep asking myself one question over and over again.
Before Khalil arrived, was Carlo about to kiss me?
Even if he was, it was probably in response to what he heard last night. The self-conscious part of my mind reasons that he likely sees me as someone to be pitied now. He was being uncharacteristically nice. Both last night and this morning. Maybe I’m just reading too much into everything. And even if he was about to kiss me, it would do me well to remember that we’re in a fake relationship.
Things are already complicated enough.
When I exit the room, Carlo and Khalil are still speaking in whispers. They’re in front of the windows, and I wait for a few seconds, hovering in the doorway. Then Carlo’s eyes find mine and the thrum that rolls through my entire body is a clear sign that I might be fucked.
When did I start responding to him so instinctively?
He ends the conversation, moving over to stand in front of me. “You need to get to work, right?”
I nod once, watching the wheels turn in his head.
“I can’t take you. Larsen and I have got business to take care of.”
Khalil’s still standing beside the large window, a slight smile on his face. I’m guessing Carlo threatened him in some manner because he doesn’t even try to approach.
“That’s fine. I can take a cab,” I tell him.
It’ll be great to have some time to think before I head to work.
“No,” he says. “You can take my car.”
My eyes widen. Carlo drives a black McLaren. Aren’t men usually super possessive when it comes to their cars? Apparently not him because he doesn’t even blink at the offer.
“But then—” I stammer, cutting myself off. “What would you drive?”
“I have another car, Astoria.” He smiles. “Just take my car to work. I’ll figure out how to get it back later.”
“Okay. Thank you,” I say gratefully.
He’s been such a huge help. It occurs to me how far we’ve come in only a matter of weeks. When we met, he was cold and unrelenting. Now all I feel in his presence is warmth.
“Here are the keys. Drive safe.”
Ah, there it is. Despite his unbothered front, it’s hard for him to part with his car. His eyes simmer with unease. I smile as I accept the keys. I want to hug him, but I’m not sure that would be acceptable. The lines of our relationship are so blurred right now. How do you go from falling asleep in each other’s arms to casual-acquaintances-slash-fake-boyfriend-and-girlfriend?
“I hope to see you again soon, Astoria,” Khalil calls.
“You too.”
