I release Hannah and take a deep breath, preparing for the fight.
She looks around at the dumpsters, the tall pane of safety glass separating us from the city street below, and the dried remnants of spilled drinks. Then she laughs. “You only take me to the most glamorous places.”
Some of the tension leaves my shoulders. “Welcome to Employee World.”
Hannah leans against the wall. “Employee World? Please. I saw you in there, living large with Roger. You’re one of the important people now.”
I hadn’t known she was aware I was even at the party, since she’d so studiously avoided everyone connected to the band. I lean next to her and try to even my breathing. I need the adrenaline from intervening to dissipate.
She glances sideways at me. “You guys looked like you were having fun. Does that mean our grand plan is working?”
It’s dark back here without the candles. The ambient lights from the city illuminate her blond hair, giving it a glow, but her face remains shadowed. “Grand plan?”
She leans closer. I take a deep breath. She smells like ocean salt and the barest hint of coconut, a scent so lovely it stills me. “We’re making Roger happy. Happy Roger equals happy Theo.”
I sit with this for a moment, puzzling it out—and then it hits me. “Is that why you shaved your head?”
She shrugs. “Not entirely. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor. Figured I should appease him every once in a while. Make things easier for you.”
I feel like I need to rewind my memory and rewatch the last month with this new context. “You’ve never given a fuck about what Roger wanted. That’s literally the reason he sent me. What changed your mind?”
She opens her mouth, but I race to add, “Don’t say it’s because you think I need the win. You’ve already used that excuse.”
She closes her mouth. Her gaze drifts out to the city. She shrugs.
I resist the urge to shake her. “Well, whatever the reason, stop. I don’t need your help. He just told me I’m getting my promotion.”
She grins. “Congrats, Suit. You deserve it.” She pauses a beat. “And you’re welcome.”
I shake my head, but can’t help smiling. “You’re insufferable.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Bored with the news of my promotion already?”
The weight of her gaze pins me in place. “What did Ripper mean when he said I’m your favorite, and everyone knows why?”
I swallow. Suddenly it seems like an awful idea, coming to this private alcove with Hannah after too many drinks. “Who ever knows what Ripper means?”
“You know. I saw it on your face.” She hiccups.
I exhale. “You’re drunk.”
“So?” Hannah kicks her heel against the wall. “Even better. Tell me what Ripper meant and I’ll forget it by tomorrow.”
“That’s exactly why I’m not telling you,” I blurt. Then blink. Where did that come from?
The air thickens. The teasing look disappears from Hannah’s face, replaced by something serious. Somehow, in my haste to escape her question, I’ve accidentally told the truth.
Hannah moves closer. She looks up at me, asking another question, though silently this time. And she must get her answer from my eyes, because even though I hardly breathe, she reaches up to touch my jaw.
Your feelings shine out of your eyes.
I catch Hannah’s hand in midair.
I’ve watched you throw your heart into everything.
I should release her, but I hold on. My heart drums at the risk. The back of her hand is soft, but her fingers are calloused from playing. I rub my thumb across the rough pads and then catch her eyes. Ocean blue, shining even in the dim light. I try to remind myself of all the reasons I’ve run through: She’s my client. She’s drunk, at least temporarily. Grieving, expiration date unknown. And who knows what she’s actually thinking. Hannah is a master at messing with me.
