“I should go.” I raise my chin, silently daring him to detain me any further.
Andreas slow blinks, shuttering whatever emotion had just passed through his hypnotizing eyes.
He looks as if he was about to say something but the ringing of his phone interrupts. I release a breath, feeling like the title of that 90s teen sitcom starring Mark Paul-Gossalaar.
His expression drops when he looks down at the phone screen.
“You should get that,” I say. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Knight.”
With that, I quickly pivot on my heels and start for the opposite end of the hallway to continue on with the remaining thousand tasks I need to complete before the end of my workday.
Assuming I still have a job.
CHAPTER 5
Ivy
“I’m coming, Ms. Shelby,” I yell through the door of the L.A. loft apartment I now share with Mya.
After the fire, Mya let me move in with her since the spare bedroom had been vacant for two weeks once her last roommate moved out.
As soon as I open the door, Ms. Shelby lets out a meow that tells me she’s not at all pleased with my lateness.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her as she glares up at me with those big, blue eyes. Ms. Shelby is a British shorthair and one of the easier breeds of cats, but she doesn’t like not getting fed on time.
“You know how crazy traffic is, and I had to go to two different pet stores to get your special cat food,” I tell her.
“Are you explaining yourself to that damn cat again?” Mya asks as she exits her bedroom in just a bra and black leggings.
“She needs to know I didn’t abandon her.” I pick Ms. Shelby up once I’ve taken off my heels and placed them on the shoe rack we keep by the door.
“Mhm,” Mya says, grilling Ms. Shelby. “She’s too needy.”
I rub my nose against Ms. Shelby’s, making her purr. “She’s still grieving,” I remind Mya.
The firefighters believe it was an accident that started when a lamp in Ms. Baldwin’s bedroom fell over as she was sleeping.
I found out later that she likely died from smoke inhalation before the flames ever reached her. That was somewhat of a relief.
Ms. Shelby was able to escape through the pet door in the kitchen.
Mya sighs and approaches us, looking down at Ms. Shelby.
“Furball,” she snarks, but there’s a softness in her tone. Mya’s never been a fan of pets, but she didn’t bat an eye when she agreed to let me move in with her.
“Is there a reason you’re half-naked?” I quip, putting Ms. Shelby down and heading to the kitchen.
“Besides the fact that I spend way too many hours in pilates, twice a week with a trainer, and walking those damn L.A. hills with you on weekends to cover up this hourglass figure?” She strikes a pose, popping out her hip, making me laugh.
My friend is a gorgeous size fourteen, which for this city is considered plus-size, but Mya works out regularly to maintain her overall health and energy. She isn’t shy about telling anyone who will listen she’ll never go on another diet again.
“Babe and I are going out for drinks and then dinner with a few of his colleagues. Which one do you think works best?”
She holds up a short-sleeve black dress that stops right at the knee, then switches to an electric blue dress that’s sleeveless, but the bust is super low cut.
“What are you going for? Are these Jason’s clients?” Jason is the son of a well-known California real estate mogul. He works in the family’s business.
Mya shakes her head. “Not clients but they have done some deals in the past.”
