“We’re heading out to get these guys some coffee,” Killian calls, gesturing to the workmen and women as I turn. “You want one?”
I shake my head. “Not this time. I need to be somewhere.”
Sinclair rolls her eyes as she opens her apartment door.
“I told you I’d call you when I need you to scare the murderers that are poised, waiting to pounce on me the second I step foot outside.”
She huffs when I don’t react.
“It’s Manhattan. And this is the Upper East Side, not The Bronx. You don’t need to be with me every time I leave my apartment. I can take a walk in the neighborhood with Monty and be fine.”
“Your father put me in charge of?—”
“Ruining my social life, destroying my image, and sucking any fun I might have a hope of experiencing, from me? Yes, I’m aware.” She folds her arms and leans against the doorframe. “You’re here to check up on me, aren’t you?”
I clock the gym bag by her feet, and she kicks it to one side.
“Going somewhere?”
“No.”
“Sure about that?”
She tips her head to one side. Her blonde ponytail flows over one shoulder as she narrows her eyes at me. She’s dressed in white workout tights and a matching cropped vest, sneakers on.
“You have a workout scheduled with your personal trainer, Brad Garrett-Charles,” I say.
She snorts. “Why are you using his full name? And how do you?—?”
I hold my phone up, showing her the imported calendar her agent sent me, so I’d know all of the places Sinclair needs to be over the next couple of months.
“Oh, that bitch! I got her diamond earrings for her birthday. Our new collection that isn’t released yet. She isn’t getting them now.” She huffs.
She chews on her lower lip, her gaze skirting back to me and over my black suit in disapproval.
“Monty sits upfront with me. He can get sick in the back,” she says, pursing her lips.
“That’s fine,” I reply.
She mutters something under her breath as she retrieves the bag she kicked away. I hold my hand out for it, and she arches a brow, pausing for a moment before depositing the handle into my palm.
“Monty!” she calls, clicking her fingers.
He appears next to her. The white patches of hair on his small gray body shake as he wags his tail.
“We’re going to see Brad. I packed you a chew toy that you like. I’m sorry about the…” Her eyes flick to me “… company.”
Monty scampers over to me, tail wagging, and licks my hand as I bend to pet him. Sinclair looks at the two of us, then steps out into the hallway, pulling the door closed.
“My session with Brad is for an hour. You can wait in the car.”
She lifts Monty into her arms and strides off ahead of me, talking to him as she goes.
We pull up outside the studio and Sinclair reaches for the door handle on the passenger side the moment the vehicle stops.
I lean over her seat, enveloping her hand as I pull the door closed again with a firm thud.
“What are you doing? I’ll be late.”
