“No. I’m fine. I’m working.”
“You have to work this late? It’s almost eight?”
I huffed. “No. I’m…” I huffed again. “…never mind. What do you want?”
“Why are you whispering? I can barely hear you.”
I was going to lose it with him. “What. Do. You. Want?”
“So touchy. I think you’re ill.”
Rubbing the bone between my eyes, I was ready to hang up. “I need to see you. Like now.”
I pulled my phone away from my head and looked at it before answering. Who the fuck did he think he was? “No. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t need or have time for games.”
An audible, irritated sigh escaped him. “I’m not up to anything,” he whispered back. “I’ll tell you when I see you. Meet me at my apartment.” He rattled off the address. Still whispering.
I scoffed a laugh. “Uh, no. Sorry.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “Then I’ll come to you. Where are you?”
He was giving stalker vibes. “I’m hanging up now unless you tell me what you want.”
“Can’t you just trust me? We had a nice conversation in the lot. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
“That’s what all stalker murderers say, and I don’t trust anyone. I’m hanging up now. And I might even block your number.” Before he could tempt me into more banter, I stabbed the end button so hard that my finger hurt. Whatever it was he had to say, I wasn’t interested. But I was curious about him. Did he have a record in Europe?
When I got back to the table, I opened my laptop and searched for him. A host of stories popped up, and I went down an Axel Hughes rabbit hole the size of Manhattan.
Chapter 6
Axel
He ended the fucking call.I couldn’t decide whether to be pissed or impressed. Either way, I imagined his face red and flustered, eyes gleaming with anger. I imagined the veins under his tattoos would bulge as the hair fell from his man bun. Jesus Christ. That wasn’t supposed to be hot. And the whispering.
“Okay, that obviously didn’t go well, but you’re also smiling,” Jonas mused. “What did he say?”
“Basically whispered for me to fuck off.” Jonas’s laughter filled his living room, causing my anger to flare. We were watching baseball at his home while his wife, Leanne, had taken the kids to a pool party at the neighbor’s house. “Shut it.” I stood, suddenly needing some space.
“Wait,” he chuckled, reaching for my arm. “He was whispering? I’m not used to seeingtheAxel Hughes get shut down so quickly.”
Why was I letting this irritate me? “I wasn’t hitting on him. I was trying to have a conversation. Like an adult.” But I was thinking about hitting on him.
His expression changed to one of sympathy, but I didn’t like that either. “Buddy, did you hear yourself? Let me give you somefriendly advice. New Yorkers don’t take kindly to being told what to do, much less the way you handled it. You’re a bossy fucker.”
Exasperated, I closed my eyes as my irritation diminished. Rubbing my temples, I felt a headache coming on. “I can come on… a bit strong.”
“Ya think? You’re not on the ice. Chirping at him ain’t gonna work. Nor will slamming him to the boards. But,” he paused, “some people like that trait in a man. Obviously not him, though.” He snickered and took a swig of his beer. He shifted his big body on the sofa. “Maybe it’s best to leave it alone. He’s a grown man, and you can’t change what happened.”
I grunted. “No, but I can buy the fucking bar and turn it into a bookstore.”
He erupted in laughter. “That’s a little extreme even for a mogul like you. Why do you care what happens to him so much?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? I could only come up with one answer I was willing to share. “He’s a good man, takes care of people who can’t help themselves.” I couldn’t let it go, nor could I stop thinking about him. I had tried. For three days.
Jonas smirked. “So, it’s personal. Like kissy-kissy personal.”
My face contorted. “How old are you?”
