I blink. “What?”
“Sienna.”
I stare at him. “You haven’t even met her.”
He looks down at me, utterly calm. “She asked whether to be intellectual or flirtier, didn’t she?”
My silence gives me away.
He nods once, deeply pleased with himself. “Cancel it.”
“How did you?—”
“You have expressive eyebrows.”
That is not a real answer.
He turns to leave, then pauses just long enough to add, “And keep the red lipstick.”
I freeze. Slowly, I look down at my phone.
Then back up at him.
He doesn’t turn around again, just keeps walking toward his office like he didn’t just peek into my messages, psychoanalyze a woman he’s never met, and absolutely wreck my ability to function before lunch.
I stare after him for a full five seconds. Then mutter to myself, “I hate him.”
From somewhere behind me, Owen’s voice floats over in a stage whisper. “Girl, no you don’t.”
I don’t dignify that with a response.
Mainly because I’m too busy trying not to smile.
25
ALEKSEI
By the timethe attorney arrives, I’m already on my second drink.
The city beyond my office windows has gone dark, all glass and lights and ambition, but none of it settles me. The office floor is mostly empty now. The dates are lined up on Zatanna’s calendar, the women are texting, the deadline is closing like a fist, and all I can think about is the way she looked up at me from her desk when I sat on it like I’d lost my mind.
Maybe I have.
A knock comes at the door.
“Come in.”
The attorney slips in with his usual air of apologizing for his own existence. Thin tie, thinning hair, expensive briefcase clutched too tightly. He shuts the door behind him and pauses, taking in the glass in my hand, the loosened tie, the fact that I am clearly not in a mood for legal theater.
“Mr. Vasiliev.”
“You can sit,” I say. “Or stand there and tremble. I don’t care.”
He chooses the chair.
Smart enough.
I stay where I am by the bar cart, one shoulder against the cabinet, drink in hand. “Well?”
