“Do you not read before bed?” I ask.
“Sometimes. But I like holding paperbacks, and I don’t have any books.”
“What kind of books do you read?”
She swallows. “Romance. I only read romance.”
“Val has paperbacks in her bedroom. You’re welcome to them.”
“Cool. Cool.” Lake wipes her mouth with a tissue, then wrings her hands in her lap.
“Alessio, I want to ask you something.”
“Ask.”
She smiles. This woman is so pretty. I just like watching her. I like watching her in my bed even more. Surprise, surprise.
“I want to call my uncle.”
“Certainly. Your phone arrives tomorrow.”
Her eyes light up. “Really?”
I nod. Her phone arrives along with her passport so she and Leo can travel with me on business trips. With Val gone, I have no choice but to take Leo and his governess with me.
“Please deduct the cost of the phone from my paycheck.”
“Nonsense. It’s a business expense.”
“Please.”
“No.”
She scrunches up her nose. “That sounded like a whip sliced the air.”
I shrug. “I’m fond of whips.”
She clears her throat. “Thank you for comping the lunch over at the Easy. And for bringing me dinner.” Lake side-eyes me and presses her lips together as if suppressing laughter. “And for saving me from walking over the glass.”
“Very funny.” But also, I provided her with water so she won’t choke. Not that it matters, but if we’re compiling a list of my daily heroics, it should be on there. Lake doesn’t care about perfecting her list or making sure all the pieces are in place the way I do.
She scoots toward me as if to kiss me (probably on the cheek), and the moment she makes that move, I slide her under me.
“Oh my God,” she says, wide-eyed. “We can’t.”
“Since you insist on usingcanandcannotinstead ofwillorwon’t, here’s the thing. Icanspend the night with you. Youcan’texpect me to sleep next to you while I want to fuck you. Can’t expect that, Lake. But youcanmake a choice and refuse me. I advise you not to because you’ll sleep like a baby once I’m done with you.” And so will I.
I know I’ll sleep well with her in my bed the same way I know my third-grade teacher committed suicide the day after receiving a letter from my dad. They were lovers, and he told her it was over. She jumped instead of getting an abortion.
They called her death an accident. Not suicide. But I know the truth because I read my dad’s letter before giving it to her. I was nine years old.
I appreciate the struggle I see in Lake’s pained expression, but I’m puzzled as to why she’s fighting me so much. We’ve already spent a night together. We’re more than compatible, and not just in bed. As far as a relationship between us as a man and a woman goes, we get along really well. She pokes fun at my difficult character, and it makes me laugh with her.
Put plainly, most people annoy me, and Lake doesn’t. I like spending time with her.
Perhaps the novelty of her excites me. If so, it’ll wear off, but while she’s here, I’m going to enjoy every moment of our time together.
“I want to. But I can’t.” Her pained expression makes me curious. Did I misread her feminine cues? The giggling, the blushing. Unlikely. I’m socially unapproachable, not stupid. I read cues very well. She told me she wanted to kiss me, for God’s sake.
