Embarrassment colored his face as I closed the door.
I looked around the apartment the Nighthawks had secured for me. The place was entirely too big for one person, but the view of the city from the terrace and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the East River was spectacular. It was an opulent penthouse with three-bedroom suites and a terrace. But with my contract came the expectation of an extravagant lifestyle and nightlife. I had the option to lease the place from the team, but it wasn’t the right fit. If I were going to stay in New York, I needed a place of my choosing.
My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in a few hours. Decker was busy with his wife and kids, and Kozlov was off with his girlfriend for the weekend. “Dinner for one,” I murmured. As I looked out over the city, Luca came to mind. I had his number, and there was no reason I couldn’t call to check on him.
Going back to get my phone, I pulled up his number and hit call. It went straight to voicemail again. The damn thing would consume me all weekend, as call after call went to his full inbox. I’d lost all patience by the time he finally answered three days later.
Chapter 5
Luca
Monday evening, I stopped in the corner market to pick up more bread and peanut butter. It wasn’t what I wanted to eat, but it and Ramen were cheap and had been my mainstay in undergrad. Peanut butter stuck to the ribs, and adding some leftover soy packets to the Ramen made it tasty. I could go back to it until I found another job.
Checking out with my bag in hand, I made the short walk and crossed the street to my apartment. The old postwar building had eight apartments inside, desperately needed a remodel, but doing that would double the rent, making it unaffordable, even with John sharing it. The stairs squeaked with every step, and the walls were paper-thin. Most nights, we could hear our neighbors fight and fuck.
When I reached our apartment, John opened the door before I could retrieve my key. “Hey. How’d the audition go?”
He stepped back for me to enter the narrow doorway. “Good. I should know something next week, but I don’t have high hopes. How’s the job hunt going?”
I blew out a breath. “It’s going.” I placed my bag on the second-hand sofa we’d picked up off Facebook Marketplace. “I put in some applications, but no place is currently in dire need ofa server mid-summer when the locals are on Long Island. I’ll try again next week.”
“I’ll ask Javier if we’re hiring. Greenwich isn’t ideal for your commute to school, but it’s a good place to work.” He waggled his brows. “And to find a hookup.”
“Not for me,” I clarified. “And I have no time or money for dating. I don’t roll that way.” He knew it. “In the two years we’d lived here, how many times have you seen me go on a date?”
His neatly sculpted brows pulled together. “Okay, I see your point.”
“Exactly. But let me know what he says.”
“Okay. I gotta jump. I don’t want to be late.”
“Have a good night. I’m gonna go to the library until they kick me out.” I pointed toward the wall. “Don’t wanna hear Marco going at it this early in the week.”
He whistled. “Yeah. I swear he’s filming content for hisOnlyFans.”
I shivered. “How do you know? Did you find it?”
John grinned. “Completely by accident. I swear.”
Not sure how heaccidentallyfound that, but what did I know? “I’m so sorry.”
When he was gone, I headed to my small kitchen and unpacked my bag. I made two sandwiches, then left one in the refrigerator for later. I grabbed my bookbag and headed for the library.
Walking in, I found my favorite table in the back by the stacks and settled in for the evening. No one was here during the summer, and since I wasn’t on call this week, I turned off my phone and immersed myself in my work. Disconnecting from the world brought its own peace of mind. If I kept myself busy, I could forget that I didn’t have the normal life of a normal twenty-eight-year-old. But I’d make it.
I packed up to leave the library, and I pulled out my phone to check the time. Turning it back on, my screen filled with multiple missed calls from the same unknown number. No voice messages, just missed calls. “Shit,” I muttered. Before I could panic over losing an opportunity, it rang again, startling the two other people in the library. “Sorry,” I mumbled, then got up. Looking down at the screen, I answered and brought it to my ear.
“Hello?” I whispered.
“Luca Vaughn?” The British accent tipped me off immediately.
“How did you get my number, Axel?” I whispered roughly.
“That’s not important,” he groused.
I chuckled humorlessly. “Uh, yeah, it is.”
“Why are you whispering? Are you ill?”
