Hill is a very boring person. All he does is go to work, occasionally stopping at a grocery store, then going home. Following him isn’t exactly boring, but what else does he do besides work?
During the small amount of conversing we’ve done, he told me he’s working on a big hit piece, so he’s been holed up at work or in his apartment.
Pulling out my phone, I go to the website for the manufacturer of my car and order one in black. It’s an impulsive purchase and I know my accountant will ask questions, but I don’t care.
I don’t know if Hill was serious when he said he wanted one in black, but whatever. It’s not like I can spend all the money in my account before I die. May as well spend it making my man happy.
“What’s that?” Sya asks when she comes over, taking the half-finished cigarette from my hand and taking a hard pull. “Another car to add to your fleet?”
I give her a dry look. “I have two cars. A perfectly reasonable amount. And it’s not for me, it’s for Hill.”
Sya looks up as if trying to figure out who I’m talking about. “Is this a new guy you’re seeing? Is he famous or a normie? Have you vetted him?” She pecks away at her screen. “You have to protect your assets, Menace. I’ll get the private investigator on it and?—”
“No, that’s not necessary. He’s not like that.” Hell, he barely goes outside if it’s not for work or groceries. Why would he blackmail me? “
She stares at me for a few moments, then throws her hands up. “Okay. Be it on your head,” she mutters, making me chuckle. “You have a shoot coming up in Australia.”
“When?”
“Next week. It’ll be spread over three days. Some kind of sunglasses ad.”
I don’t mind being flown out of the country for a vacation. Sure, shooting days are long but they’re worth it.
Smiling, I say, “Add Hill Washington to the reservation. He’ll be coming with me.”
Sya’s eyes widen. “The journalist? Menace, you’re seeing a journalist?”
“If I am?” I ask, ticking up an eyebrow.
“Do you think that’s wise?”
I shrug. “I don’t care. He’s mine. His job is inconsequential.”
Standing, I toss off the robe. “Let’s finish this shit up so I can go home.” I walk toward the platform and the impatient photographer. “Don’t forget to add him,” I shout over my shoulder, then sit on the raised platform and pose for the photographer.
With no fucking pouting.
God, I can’t wait until this is over so I can go back to my new hobby—stalking Hill.
Hill: I’m off to bed. Talk tomorrow?
I reread the text over and over as I watch Hill on the dance floor wearing tight jeans that show off the shape of his bubble butt, a crop top that shows a sliver of his belly, and some lip gloss that draws my eyes to his sexy mouth.
Why would he lie? Did he think I’d have a problem with him partying?
My heart thumped hard in my chest when I saw him leave his apartment building with his pretty friend, dressed like they wanted every man’s eyes on them. My blood boiled, and I almost gave up my position. It took effort not to push out of my car and storm over to him, demanding to know why the fuck he lied.
But I kept my cool, knowing if I didn’t, I’d lose him before I figured shit out.
Still, I plan to get Hill alone as soon as he gets home and discuss what the fuck.
I could have waited in his apartment until he got done partying and confronted him there, but that would have meant missing him gyrate his hips on the dance floor.
Plenty of men look his way, watching how he moves, the sultry grind of his body and how he’s thrusting his hands through his hair in that alluring way.
I can barely keep my eyes off him.
Pulling out my phone, I text Hill to see what he’ll say.
