“As your intern, I live to serve,” he says with amusement. I open my eyes to look at him, and he asks, “Did your squabble with Priya blow over?”
I adjust the robe to cover me where it’s fallen away from my legs. “We made up, but then I got pissed off again a few nights back. Long story.”
“I have time.” His thumbs spread along the ball of my foot deliciously.
“It’s… yeah, no. Just personal shit. I don’t wanna talk about it. Let’s just say on the road to better communication, there are some potholes.” I wait a beat, deciding whether to reveal the next part. “I did kinda tell her I fucked you, though.”
His probing thumbs freeze. “A lie counts as ‘better communication’?”
“Oh, shut up. I never said I was perfect. But I’m trying.”
He resumes massaging. “And the sex—how was I? Any good?”
The side-eye he’s giving me makes my heart race, so I close my eyes again and offer an A-okay sign with my fingers. “Five stars.”
“I’ll add your rating to my CV.”
“Though it would’ve beenwaymore funny to tell her you were hung like a hamster.”
His laugh is a smooth rumble. “Are we certain that’s an insult? Proportionally speaking, domestic rodents might be massive.”
I click my tongue and point at him. “True. Add ‘Google proportionality of rodent genitals’ to your to-do list, intern.”
“Never a dull moment in your employ.”
He kneads my heel and works the thumb of his other hand along the base of my toes andfuckit’s nice. It’s confusing how relaxed I am around him. Is it because I don’t give a shit what he thinks of me? I spend a lot of time feeling “onstage” in this sport, so it’s a relief not to be performing. Even socially it can be a problem, because I have a wild reputation. But sometimes the sassy armor gets heavy.
“Y’know,” I begin, “I should be all kinds of uptight and defensive with you, but for some weird-ass reason, I’m kinda the opposite. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe I smell right,” he says, adjusting his massage stroke in a way that makes me go practically boneless. “Some people have an inexplicable soporific effect. It’s chemical, and immune to logic. Pheromones.”
“Hmm. Maybe.”
“Or I reckon it could be that you don’t give a toss about my opinions.”
My eyes fly open, hearing him echo what I was just thinking. I’m about to say something when my phone chimes on the table.
Alexander glances at the screen. “Ah. Priya. Shall your ‘intern’ take the call for you?”
I fold my arms. “Let it go to voicemail.”
“As you command, pet.” His tone—playful, but a little cautious—makes me wonder if he likes the idea of me bossing him around. I open one eye and he’s watching my face.
The phone rings again, and it takes a few seconds for Alexander to break eye contact. Finally his gaze angles toward my phone. His eyebrows lift.
“Ah, the mysterious Julian. Bit of a love triangle?”
I struggle upright, trying not to flash my crotch in the too-big bathrobe. “You sound jealous. But Jules is my brother, dumbass. Do your research. I thought you were a journalist?”
A text from Priya appears on-screen:Pick up, Sage
The ringing stops for a few seconds before starting in again, and I hand the phone to Alexander. “Here, make yourselfuseful. Tell her you just fucked me into a state of exhaustion and I can’t come to the phone.”
“Most assuredly not. I know better than to get into the middle of your catfight.”
“Wow, ‘catfight’? So condescending…”
“But I’ll take a message.” He taps the call open, on speaker. “Sage Sikora’s phone, Alexander speaking. How might I help you?”
