I take a long pull from my beer. “Fine.”
“‘Fine,’” he repeats in a half-assed mockery of my voice. “That’s it? That’s all I get?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“For starters, I want you to admit you’re in love with her.”
I nearly choke. “I’m not?—”
“Oh, please.” Zeke mimes zipping my lips. “You look at her like she’s the last meal you’re ever gonna eat. It’s honestly kind of disgusting.”
“Says the man with a hickey the size of the fucking lake on his neck.”
His grin widens. “My girl’s enthusiastic in the sack. What can I say?”
“You can say literally anything else. I’d prefer it, actually.”
“Fine.” He takes a sip of his beer, eyes tracking Yasmin and Eliana as they high-five and cackle together at the lane when Eliana’s ball takes a forlorn plop into the gutter and rolls out of sight. “But for real, man. You doing okay?”
I consider the question. The honest answer is too complicated for words.
From a certain perspective, I’m not okay at all.
I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of Petya since I attacked him at his apartment, which is theoretically good. Maybe he actually heeded my warning and skipped town. But Aleksei hasn’t shown his face, either, which is worrisome. Still, I’m disinclined to go hunting for him so long as things remain normal and no black sedans come lurking along my streets.
Olympus continues to trundle along, and with lots of hard work from myself, Eliana, and the team at Hale Hospitality, we’ve been slowly shaving off days from Frank’s projected delays. At this rate, we might actually make our initial launch date, which would be an absolute fucking miracle.
Eliana and I continue to stubbornly ignore the concept of a future. We grab ass and kiss in shadowy corners and cook together damn near every night. It’s a farce, but goddammit, it’s a beautiful one.
So no, in many senses, I’m not okay at all.
But what comes out is, “Yeah. I think I am.”
Zeke nods and punches me in the shoulder. “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Speaking of which, you nail down your plus-one for the gala yet?”
My hand tightens around my beer bottle. “A what for the what?”
“Oh, do you not remember?” he drawls sarcastically. “You’re investing three billion dollars in the biggest development in the city of Chicago this century. There’s a little kickoff party. May 14th. Black tie, champagne fountains, the whole nine yards. Maybe your invite got lost in the mail?”
I slug him back in the shoulder in retaliation. “Asshole,” I mutter. “No, I don’t have a date. Haven’t thought about it.”
Zeke shoves his face into my field of view so I can’t brush him off. “C’mon, bro, don’t be skittish. You gonna take Eliana or not?”
I glance toward the lane, where Eliana is currently doing a victory dance after knocking down three pins. Yasmin is laughing so hard she’s doubled over.
Taking Eliana to the gala would mean making us public. Making usreal. It would mean standing in front of investors and board members and the entire Chicago hospitality industry with her on my arm, declaring to everyone that she’s not just my project manager—that she’smine.
“I don’t know,” I say finally. “It’s complicated.”
“What’s complicated about it?” he asks in exasperation. “You’re clearly together. Everyone at the office already knows something’s up.”
“We’re not—” I stop myself. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?”
“Ahh!”
I pull my gaze away from Zeke just in time to see Eliana’s ball knock down the last pin. She shrieks and spins around, her hat nearly flying off her head.
