“I’m not your mother. But the ones you have on match, and they’re broken in.”
Yup, she knows me. I would have gone home and gotten a dress that’s uncomfortable and shoes that are new and still hurt like hell.
“I love you,” I say to her retreating figure.
“Yeah, yeah. Show me the love in my bonus this year.”
“Mercenary.” Admiration fills my voice.
I duck into my bathroom to change and I’m sliding my arm through the last sleeve when I hear the door open. “Sonia? Did you forget something?” I walk out of the bathroom, still putting on earrings.
“Not Sonia,” Gavin says from his position at the entrance, hands in his pocket, leaning against my doorframe. He’s doing that thing where he projects nonchalance, like he’s been lounging in my office for hours. Even though I know he must have just walked in.
He’s definitely not a small Indian woman. Instead, it’s a tall, smirking, white man with a strong jaw line that makes me want to nibble it. He’s dressed in another one of his tailored suits, designed specifically to remind me how long it’s been since I’ve had sex.
One year, three months, and two days.
“My blackmailer.” I greet him as I turn away to finish putting my earrings in. And to avoid the sight of him in that tux.
I’ve already accepted that this is a good opportunity to network, and I’m getting off light for the alleged (actual) trespassing I committed. But the petty in me is not ready to give this up without some snark.
“I prefer to think of myself as an opportunity creator.”
“Is it part of the blackmail that I have to agree with you?” I ask in a voice so sweet it must be fake.
“I don’t think I have enough on you to make that happen.”
“You don’t. Who’s the target anyway?” I ask as I herd him out of the room.
“You know we’re not murdering anyone, right?”
“Sure. Yup. Gotcha. But really who is it?”
“Gina Martinez. CEO of a big advertising company. She has an amazing classic car collection, and she wants to trim some of it to make room for new ones. Just like Harrison.”
“Wait, am I just here because you’re afraid to face the powerful woman alone?”
“No.”
The unusually short answer from Gavin makes me look at him sideways.
“You’re totally afraid.” Now how do I use this information?
“I’m not afraid. I just want to go into battle with every possible weapon at my disposal. And the lady CEO might be more comfortable knowing that I know other strong business ladies.”
I feel my stomach flutter at the compliment, and I wish he’d stop doing that. Every time he makes a comment that doesn’t revolve around one of us crushing the other, I react like we’re on a first date.
Which we most certainly are not doing. “Strong business ladies can see through your sad shenanigans.”
“Yes, they can. And she’ll know that and see that you’re around me anyway, so I still get credit. You’re a great judge of character.”
I feel moderately bad about the ruse we’re playing on this woman, but I’m comforted by the fact that Carlyle’s is a competent auction house that will do a decent job on the sale. They’re our main competition at our size and scope, so it physically pains me to admit anything nice about them, even in my head. And Gavin would have to use some medieval torture devices on me before I admit it out loud.
Gavin has a car waiting for us in front of my office building, and I’m impressed the driver was able to hold a spot in the after-work traffic. He gets out as we exit onto the street, and has the door open for us before we reach the vehicle.
“Thank you,” I say as I get in.
Once we’re settled and on our way, silence permeates the inside of the vehicle. We don’t often spend time alone together, in private. I rack my brain, trying to think of when we’ve had any one-on-one time, but we’ve always been surrounded by people, either our classmates, then coworkers or the clients we’re working with. Well, except for when he came to my office to talk about Stella, and when Gavin caught me in the storeroom.
