“The guy you made out with at the comic convention?”
“Yeah.” I instantly regret voicing my ridiculous theory.
Priya knits her brows together, her gaze clouding with concern. “You think something went down between the two of you before your accident? But why wouldn’t he tell you?”
I gnaw on my lower lip, chest tight with anxiety. “It’s a stretch, I know.”
She smirks. “Like some Clark Kent double life thing? So Wolfe’s strutting around in suits with a Daredevil costume underneath?”
“It feels like he does. But I dunno, it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility. Now I know he’s into me enough to take me to bed. Should I ask him or does that make me sound crazy?”
“Look, if he is your mystery man, tread lightly, Luce. Because that would mean he’s lying to you for some reason. That’s so manipulative.”
“Like what?”
“Maybe something happened, like you found out he had a few women on the side and that’s why you were upset. Now he’s using your memory loss to reel you back in.”
I think back to how he was the one with me when I fell on the stairs at the Plaza.
I scoff, a pathetic attempt at bravado. “Please, I’m not that good in the sack that he’d go to such effort. It’s hardly the highlight of his year. Plus, he seems pretty genuine. I don’t think he’d play games like that.”
Priya’s expression remains skeptical. “Just watch yourself with him. These billionaire playboy types are usually total jerks.”
I laugh. “Oh yeah? You know a ton of ’em?”
She grins. “A couple we’ve worked with, yeah.”
We carry on with our casual stroll through the lush greens of Central Park, the weight on my chest feeling slightly lighter after sharing my ludicrous theory with Priya. But I’m still miles away from making heads or tails of any of this.
We part ways at the entrance.
“I’ve got a night out with the law crew,” Priya says. “What’re you up to tonight?”
“Spider’s moving out, so I’ll probably just curl up with a book.” I smile. The simple life. My poor overwhelmed brain needs it.
“Not seeing your superhero?” Priya teases, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me.”
“No, he’s busy tonight, doing admin stuff.”
“Admin?” Priya scoffs. “What kind of billionaire does admin on a Saturday night?"
I shrug, getting defensive. “He’s pretty down-to-earth.”
“Mm-hmm.” Her tone says it all. Priya kisses me goodbye, throwing one last warning look over her shoulder.
I roll my eyes, feigning indifference.
As I stroll down Fifth Avenue, Priya’s words swirl in my mind. A down-to-earth billionaire doing admin on a Saturday night? It does sound sketchy.
I suddenly remember I left my Kindle charger in the apartment I stayed in opposite JP’s. I’ve been meaning to get it back, and I’ll need it if I want to read tonight.
And spying on Mr. Billionaire is purely coincidental, obviously. I just can’t run into him. The last thing I need is for him to think I’ve turned into a bunny boiler.
???
An hour later, I’m creeping down the hallway past JP’s place, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. There’s thefaint hum of his music playlist, a telltale sign he’s home. A knot of anxious energy forms in my stomach.
Why did I think this was a good idea again? I should just leave the damn charger, to hell with needing it.
