But I’m not letting her fucking go.
“I should leave,” I say instead of any of the things I should say.
She nods, relief evident in the set of her shoulders. “Yeah. That’s probably best.”
I find my clothes scattered across her bedroom floor.
I dress in silence while Bree watches from the bed. Her expression is unreadable now. That poker face she wears so well at the office, settling into place even though she’s naked under those sheets.
“I’ll see you at the office,” I say.
She flashes a weak smile. “Nine o’clock. Like always.”
I force another lifeless grin in return. “Like always.”
I want to kiss her goodbye. The urge is almost overwhelming. But if I kiss her now I’ll end up back in that bed and we’ll be having this same conversation three hours from now when we’re both late for work.
So I leave.
Her apartment door closes behind me with a quiet click. The hallway smells like a mix of coffee from one neighbor’s unit and marijuana from another’s. I walk down four flights of stairs, my expensive shoes loud on the worn treads.
Outside, Callahan is waiting by the Mercedes.
Pulled an all-nighter because he didn’t know when his boss would be coming out. Icould have texted him to go home. Should have, even. But he would’ve stayed regardless. His job is literally my security.
Indira stayed, too. Though I can tell from the way she’s rubbing her eyes in the driver’s seat that sleeping in an SUV doesn’t really suit her.
Callahan just opens the back door and waits. “Sir.”
I nod. “Callahan.”
I slide into the backseat. The leather is cold. “Take me home,” I tell Indira.
Callahan takes the front passenger seat, and Indira is already pulling away from the curb before I’ve buckled my seatbelt.
Neither of them says a word about the fact I’m doing the walk of shame from my secretary’s apartment building at six in the fucking morning.
This is why I pay them what I pay them.
The ride back to Tribeca takes twenty minutes in pre-rush traffic. I spend it staring out the window, replaying the last twelve hours in my head.
Following her. Watching her. The way I nearly lost control completely when that fucker leaned in to kiss her.
I’ve never been jealous like that before.
Not with anyone.
With past relationships, if you can even call them that, I maintained perfect control. Everything was calibrated. The distance was measured and maintained. Never let anyone close enough to matter.
But Bree got under my skin that first night at the gala. Burrowed in like a pathogen my immune system couldn’t identify.
And now she’s everywhere.
In my head.
In my blood.
In whatever part of me still knows how to want something.
