She crossed her legs. “You’re paying attention to my sex life? Interesting. Should I be flattered?”
“No. Your sex life is the least interesting thing about you.”
“And what’s the most interesting? You seem to have given this some thought.”
“How you manage to screw up every opportunity handed to you. That takes effort.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “You’re so good at pointing out flaws. At judging me. Makes me wonder what you’re overcompensating for.”
“You’ll be disappointed to find out how little I have to overcompensate for.”
“I doubt that.”
“Keep doubting. Seems to be the only thing you’re good at.”
She turned in her seat to face me fully. “I didn’t pick this.I didn’t pick Max’s leash or your condescending ass, or any of it. So forgive me if I don’t appreciate being dragged around as if I should be grateful.”
“He’s trying to help you.”
So was I, but she wasn’t making it easy. I’d never met a woman more repellent to help in my life.
“Helping me would be making sure Sasha doesn’t follow me back home.”
I tapped the wheel once. “Is that what you want?”
“Clearly.”
“Why?” I wondered. “Does he bother you?”
“Bother me?” she echoed. “That’s putting it nicely.”
“Then what would you call it?”
She leaned back, sighing dramatically. “Harassment.Surveillance. Having a babysitter breathing down my neck. Take your pick.”
“If it weren’t Sasha, it’d be someone else,” I reminded her, because clearly, she hadn’t figured that part out yet.
She looked at me again. “Can you help me? Maybe you can tell Max I won’t step out of line if Sasha goes.”
I hated how easily she’d dragged me into this. As if I weren’t already neck-deep in her mess. Still, I considered it. Briefly. More than I probably should’ve done. The thought of Sasha spending every night on her couch didn’t sit right with me. Not that I cared who watched over her, but it didn’t need to be him.
I glanced sideways at her, already regretting my next words. “I’ll talk to him.”
Her eyes widened, surprised. It irritated me how pleased she looked; how quickly her attitude flipped. I tightened my grip on the wheel.
“Perfect,” she said.
I parked the car outside her building, waiting for her to get out. She hesitated briefly, but I didn’t look her way. Didn’t want to give her an opening to drag this out any longer than it needed to be.
“You can stop looking so miserable, lawyer. The torture’s over,” she muttered, pushing open the door and stepping onto the curb without another word.
I watched her slam the door shut and walk up the stairs, ponytail swaying behind her like a goddamn taunt. No “thank you,” no acknowledgment, just the same stubborn silence.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, reminding myself I didn’t expect gratitude.
If I did, I’d be disappointed every damn time.
CHAPTER 13
