Standing suddenly, I dump her off of my lap. She lands on the floor, and I step over her, rounding the desk to put the massive piece of furniture between us. I plant my hands on the desktop and watch as she stands, straightening her shirt.
“I can’t believe you actually let me kiss you,” I say, trying to remind her why she hates me. It’s safer that way, for me and for her. “You were pathetic when we were kids, and you’re pathetic now.”
She does look a little hurt, but when she speaks, her voice is steady. Perfectly composed, as always. “You don’t mean that. People in pain lash out.”
Ignoring her, I sit down and turn back to my computer. I’m also ignoring the fact that my hands are trembling as I place them on the keyboard. “Get out. And send someone to pick up this mess. It can all go in the trash.”
She kneels and starts putting things back in the box.
“Someone else,” I snap, needing her gone right now before I lose my shit again.
Without looking back at me, she stands and leaves, holding her head high. As soon as she’s gone, I drop my own head into my hands, trying to steady myself. The irony of that—the fact that I’m the one beat down, not her—is not lost on me. Which makes me resent her even more.
Chapter Six
Valya
The night after our kiss, I can hardly sleep. I tried to pretend like I was unaffected, but inside, I was reeling. Not because of his rejection, though that stung, but because it’s the first crack in his steely facade that I’ve seen since we were children. Even when we were hooking up as teenagers, he never kissed me. As if kissing, to Andrej, is the more intimate act.
I spend the night tossing and turning, but by the time morning rolls around, I decide to take the kiss for what I believe it to be—a glimpse into his heart. I’m cheery when I arrive in the office the next morning, dropping off a coffee for Charity at the front desk.
“Your dad is in your office,” she tells me, taking the lid off her drink and blowing on it.
“Really?” That’s weird. Today is the estate sale. I fully expected him to be managing things at the house.
I push through the glass doors and make my way back to my office. Sure enough, my dad is lounging in one of the metal chairs in front of my desk, dressed in the Valor Cleaning uniform.
“Dad? What are you doing here?” I ask, putting my tea on my desk and dropping my purse in one of my drawers.
“I had a call from Andrej’s assistant this morning. She told me that our services are no longer required at the Novak estate.”
My brow furrows. “Did you talk to Andrej?”
He shakes his head.
To be honest, I don’t know exactly what to do. Part of me is relieved. I want to be around him. I want to help him. Part of me always will, but the constant abuse is wearing me down, even if it is just his pain leaking out onto me. And that kiss. I’ve been wanting that for a long time, but it clearly tore him apart. I’m not sure if either of us can endure something like that again.
With a sense of false relief, I fall back on the professional side of things, trying to convince myself to stick around. It’s a good job, with a lot of work still left to do. The income from that job alone will carry us through the next few months, and an endorsement from the Novak family would open a lot of doors for Valor Cleaning.
Beyond all that, though, I’m worried about him. I don’t want to be the reason he’s suffering, not after everything else.
I pick up my phone and dial Andrej’s office, getting through to Elya. I introduce myself and ask to speak to Andrej.
“He’s not in,” she says.
“Is he at the estate sale?” I ask, sure I already know the answer.
Her small chuckle tells me I’m right. “No. But I’ll let him know you called.”
I lean back in my chair to think. If he’s not at the estate sale and he’s not at work, there’s only one other place I can think of where he might go to blow off steam and forget about his problems. Even with a fifteen-year break, I know him. Right now, he’ll be looking for a distraction, and there’s only one place an Oakwood Boy would go to get it. Unfortunately, the Oakwood Club is a member’s only establishment. On the other hand, I did just meet one of its newest members, and Andrej himself gave me her phone number.
♦ ♦ ♦
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t extremely intimidated as I approached the doors to the Oakwood Club. This is not the kind of place I ever imagined myself going, although Evangeline had only positive things to say.
“It’s liberating,” she’d said. “A place where the powerful men and women of Oakwood City can just be themselves.”
I try to walk up to the doors like it’s no big deal, and I give the bouncer Evangeline’s name. He eyes me up and down—I’m glad that today, I’m dressed in a skirt suit for business, not in the polo and khakis for cleaning—and then checks his tablet. His hands are big enough that he holds the tablet with one hand. After a tense moment, he unhooks the velvet rope without saying anything and lets me inside. The marble-floored lobby is beautiful, but gives me no hint as to where to go next.
“Do you know where I can find Andrej Novak?” I ask the bouncer, but he’s already shutting the door and ignores me completely.
Thankfully, the elevator doors open at the same time and a woman wearing too much makeup and a long trench coat hears me. “Andrej? He’s a few floors down. Here.” She holds open the elevator for me and leans in to press a button. She smells like sweat and flowers, and her face sparkles with glitter. “Have fun!”
Well, that feels ominous.
And I’m right. When the elevator opens, I step out into a large, dark room with too loud music. As my eyes adjust, I realize it’s a strip club. I turn to leave, but the doors have already closed behind me. Besides, I’m committed now. What else am I going to do? Wait outside for him like some kind of groupie? No, I need to show him that I’m dedicated to this job and will do whatever it takes, even if it means tracking him down in a place like this. Liberating, indeed. Evangeline and I perhaps have different definitions of the word.
I stumble forward toward the bar. There are a couple other patrons, but they are at the tables around the stage. A strikingly beautiful woman with tan skin and inky black hair spins on the pole, then flips upside down and spreads her legs. A thin strip of fabric just barely covers her, making me blush as I turn away.
The bartender looks at me expectantly.
“Andrej Novak?” I ask over the music.
He points to a curtain on a back wall. A private room? Nodding, I cut through the club and pull back the curtain just enough to step inside, closing it behind me. When I turn back around, I see that I’m in a small room with a red leather couch and a stripper pole. On the couch, Andrej sits, his legs spread as he slouches on the couch and a woman in a red thong and nothing else gyrates inches above his lap. Her taut, pink nipples are only feet from my own face.
“Hello,” she purrs at me.
My heart sinks. I know it’s been fifteen years. I know he isn’t mine. But it still hurts. But that’s not what I’m here for. This is purely business.
Right.
Andrej peeks around the dancer and goes very still when he sees me, his eyes narrowing. His hair is messy, and his sleeves are rolled up, revealing his corded forearms. I’m surprised and a little hurt to see him like this.