“We don’t work with budgets. Buy whatever you think the place needs.” With that, he leans in, kisses my cheek, and turns away. I’m left staring at his retreating back.
What’s with thewething? Either this man is completely insane or… Nope, there really is no other option. I’ve shacked up with a madman. Well, not exactly shacked up. I’m not sleeping with him.
I head into the living room and find my phone. It’s sitting on the coffee table, plugged into a charger. Did August do that? I pick it up and see a message from Jade.
Jade:
You still alive? Was he as good as I’m imagining he is?
Me:
Still alive, and you’ll have to settle for your imagination. I’m not fucking the guy.
Jade:
Yet.
Me:
Ever.
Chapter Ten
Walking through Pulse during the day always has a different vibe to it. People are milling about. Refilling the bars, cleaning, and everything else that has to be done to be ready for when the doors open in a few hours.
I find Colton in his office. It’s right next to mine. “I have to go over to Obsidian tonight,” I tell him.
“You want me to come with?” he asks. We usually attend these events together.
“Nah, I’m taking Hayley.”
Colton blinks at me. “Hayley, right… How’d that go?”
“I’m still alive.” I laugh. “Hear anything more about the shooter?”
“Nope. Whoever was after Reyes, they’re keeping a tight lid on it,” Colton says. “You’re really going along with this fake girlfriend thing? Why?”
“Because it saves me from spending the night avoiding the advances of every gold digger in attendance,” I tell him.
It’s not a lie. I also just wanted an excuse to keep Hayley. After these two weeks are up, I will either come up with another reason to need her around or make her fall in love with me so she doesn’t want to leave.
The thought has me stilling. Fall in love with me? That’s not right. I don’t want love. Do I?
No, I just don’t want to let her go. That’s not love. That’s… obsession, infatuation.
“Sure, that’s why.” Colton eyes me suspiciously. I’m not giving him anything, though. He knows what I want him to know. “You grab the drop this morning?”
“Yeah, three-fifty-six,” he says, referring to the buy-in we collected from our dealers.
“Good.” It’s decent. “I need you to stick around here tonight. I’ll be in late.”
“Suits me. Did you see the new redhead we hired for the front bar?” he asks.
“Do not sample the staff,” I warn him.
This guy is a PR nightmare. I swear with the number of girls who have quit because they caved to his advances, I’m surprised he hasn’t been sued yet.
“Fine, I won’t,” he groans. “Lunch?”
