“What else did you buy?” he asks.
“A T-shirt, mug, calendar, a sweater, and a poster,” I say, and he is trying so hard not to laugh. “It’s not funny.”
“I’m just wondering where you hung the poster. Is it in your bedroom or office?” he asks, and I flip him the bird. I see him doing a couple of things with his fingers.
“What are you doing?” I ask, and he hands me back my phone.
“I followed myself on Instagram,” he says, and I look down to see that he also requested to follow me. When I look back up, he has his phone in his hand. “You can accept now.”
“We’ll see,” I say, putting my phone away, and he glares at me.
“Whatever you say, boss,” he says, and it’s my turn to glare at him. This time, his eyes turn almost a grey when he laughs. He holds up his hands. “I was kidding.”
“I’ll remember that the next time you ask me for something,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“Well, this was fun,” I say. We are the only two left at the table while everyone else mingles. “I’m going to head out.”
He looks at me. “I can drive you,” he says, getting up, and my eyes fly down to his zipper. That is the first time in my life I’ve ever done that. I whip my head up so fast that I have to hold on to the table. “You okay?” he asks, and I wonder if he caught me staring at his package. I’m so distorted by this that I forget to tell him that I already have a ride home.
“Yeah,” I say. “My foot was asleep,” I lie to him as we make our way over to Ralph and Candace. We say goodbye to them, and I feel the heat of his hand on my lower back coming through my jacket. We walk out of the restaurant, and the cool air hits us.
“This was really nice,” he says, his hand still on my back, and I stop at the entrance of the restaurant. “Like really nice,” he says, and he’s looking at me differently.
I hold my purse with both my hands, and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I’m suddenly fucking nervous, and I have no idea what is going on. Maybe the champagne was not good or spiked.
“I haven’t had this much fun in a long, long time,” I say. He leans closer to me, and I don’t know why my heartbeat speeds up. Or why my hands get clammy or why my stomach feels like it’s a fish out of water flopping all over the place.
“Well, since Celine,” he whispers. I go to push him with my hand, and he grabs it. “I’m kidding,” he says. Standing really fucking close to him, I look up at him, and even with my heels, he’s still taller than my five-foot-seven frame. I never realized how tall he was before.
Both of us stand here, not saying anything when a car pulls up. “That’s for me,” I say, looking at the driver getting out of the car and coming over to open the door for me. “Thank you, Nico,” I say, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. The musky smell of him hits me right away. “For the laughs.”
“You are most welcome, Becca,” he says, and I step away from him and walk toward the waiting car. “Oh, and, Becca?” He calls my name just as I get to the car door. I turn to look at him over my shoulder, putting one hand on the door. “Your secret is safe with me.” He smirks. “Boss.”
I throw my head back and laugh while I flip him the bird. “Have a nice night, Nico,” I say, ducking and getting into the car.
I wait for the driver to close the door before I let out the deep breath I was holding in. I put my hand on my stomach as I look forward and see the driver climb into the car. I don’t look out my window, but I feel his eyes on me. As we pull away from the curb, I turn to see that he is watching the car drive off.
I look out the window the whole time on the way to my penthouse. “Don’t get out,” I say when we pull up out front. Opening the door, I get out and walk into the lobby. The security guard gets up to walk me to the elevator. “Have a great night, Robert,” I say when I get into the elevator.
I slip out of my shoes as soon as I close the door behind me and walk up the steps to my bedroom using only the moonlight to guide my way. My phone beeps from my purse. I turn on the light as I toss my purse on the couch in front of my bed.
Sitting down, I take the phone out and see it’s a text from Nico.
Nico: If I sing “My Heart Will Go On”, will you accept my follow request on Instagram?
I laugh, going to my walk-in closet and taking a picture of me wearing the hat. I bend down so he can only see the top of the hat and not my face. I send him the picture, and it takes him two seconds to answer me.
Nico: That is going to be my screen saver.
I laugh, shaking my head.
Me: Have a nice night, Nico.
I put down the phone and undress. After tossing the clothes into the wash, I go to bed. The next morning when I’m on the treadmill, I get a message from Manning.
Manning: Call me when you’re up.
I press call, and he picks up right away. “How are you up? It’s like six in the morning.”
“Is that what you wanted me to call you about?” I ask, huffing out, turning the speed of the treadmill down in case I have to talk.
“I was wondering if we could schedule a meeting,” he says, and I worry something is wrong. His tone is tight, and I immediately stop my treadmill. My heart beats fast, and it’s not because I’m running.
“Are you in trouble?” I ask. I’m ready to help him in any way he needs it. Manning was the first big name to sign with me. He was the first one to take a chance on me, and I will never forget it.
“It’s nothing serious,” he says, and his voice goes low. “I mean, it’s serious, but I will explain later tonight if I can.”
“Come over whenever you want. I’m home all day and night,” I say.
“Okay, I’ll call you before I head over,” he says. We hang up, and the whole day I’m on pins and needles. When he shows up after eight that night, he looks ragged.
“What in the hell happened to you?” I ask, and I can see he is going through something.
“Can we sit down?” he asks. I nod, leading him into the penthouse and gesturing to the couch.
“Okay,” I say, sitting in front of him. “You are really scaring me.”
“I want to leave Murielle,” he says of his wife.
“Okay, we can do that. I have the best divorce lawyer on speed dial,” I say. “We dated for maybe a week.”
“It’s not that easy,” he says. “Last time I did that, she ran away with Jax.” He mentions his son. “And the only way she would come back is if I promised not to bring up divorce again.” He looks down and then up. “I met someone,” he says, and I see the anguish all over his face. “It hasn’t been long, but in this short time, I know I don’t want to let her go.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I say, sitting next to him.
“Murielle is having an affair with her trainer, and I have all the proof from the house camera.” My mouth opens in shock. “And I could blackmail her with it, but then …” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to use those pictures of her in my house.”
“We need to hire a private investigator to follow her and snap the pictures,” I say, getting up to get my phone.