“You don’t have to clean any of that,” I tell him.
“Pass them here.” He holds out his empty hand, and I give him the dustpan first so he can dump the glass that’s in his hand, then I hold out the broom. I can’t say I’ve ever had a man tidy up a mess in my home before.
I watch as he works, and when all the glass is swept into one pile, he sweeps it into the dustpan, takes it into the kitchen, and tips it into the trash. Then he returns and says, “Good night, Cora.”
“Take care of your hand,” I tell him.
His gaze falls to the blood coating my inner thighs. “If you weren’t so sore right now, I would fucking take you again.” I raise a brow at him. “Don’t tempt me,” he growls. And then he walks out, leaving me standing here covered in blood.
I immediately turn and go to shower. I watch, transfixed, as the blood mixes with the water and turns the bottom of my shower red before it goes down the drain.
What have I done?
The following week, Arlo came to my office. I told my staff to inform him I was not in for the day. The week after that, he knocked on my apartment door.
I didn’t answer it.
I’ve avoided going out unless it’s for work. That is, until Delaney asks me to go out with her. I haven’t managed to catch up with her since she got back, so I don’t say no to the opportunity because Sebastian will be there as well.
We sit in a booth at a local jazz bar, where soft music plays as we order some appetizers and drinks.
“So, how is James? Tell me all about it,” I prod, and her cheeks go red at the mention of him.
“He’s good. I see him about every other day. He buys me flowers and tells me how pretty I am,” she gushes. “Honestly, I don’t know how much more perfect he can be.”
“Make sure he isn’t love-bombing you,” I warn, and her smile instantly drops.
“No, I don’t think he would do that.” I trust her judgment, even if sometimes she can be too nice to people who don’t deserve it.
“How is Mr. Graves?” Sebastian asks me, waggling his brows.
“No idea, haven’t seen him.” I smile as the waitress places our drinks in front of us. Mine is a blueberry margarita, and it looks amazing.
“Mr. Graves?” Delaney asks.
“Arlo Graves,” I tell her. I have mentioned Arlo before, and she met him that night we went out for her birthday.
“From the restaurant?”
“Ladies… and gentleman. Sorry to interrupt.” We all turn at the sound of the voice to find Soren standing at the end of our table. “Maya over there was just telling me about the gala.” I peer around Soren to where a woman with black hair and bright red lipstick is seated nearby. “Arlo thanked you publicly,” he adds with a smile in my direction. He isn’t as friendly as he was that night in the bar. He seems more standoffish right now. “It’s a privilege to have a man as powerful as Arlo on your side. How are you two doing?”
The table falls silent as the music continues to play quietly in the background. I hear his words and contemplate my next words before I say them. “He’s your friend, right? Why don’t you ask him?” I smile and grip my drink in my hand, looking away from him.
“Yes, he is. Well, have a good night.” He nods and returns to his table.
“Isn’t that the billionaire media mogul? I swear I’ve seen him in articles about the hottest single bachelors before,” Sebastian says.
I hum in response as I watch Soren retake his seat across from his date. He glances in our direction and nods his head at me once before he looks away.
“That was weird,” Delaney says, and I couldn’t agree with her more.
TWENTY-TWO
ARLO
A text comes through, and I have to read it twice as I look at it.
Soren: Do you plan to make her your wife?
