Her head crashes into my chest.
I smooth my hand down her back, my shoulders lighternow. “See, it’s not so bad when you talk about what’s on your mind.”
She mumbles something incoherent against my shirt.
I press a kiss to her forehead, hugging her close. “We’re okay doing this, right?”
Bright blue eyes meet mine. She nods, her face blank but serious.
The door bangs open. Abe crosses his arms and leans against the doorjamb.
Isolde slips from my grasp. “Come sit with me at my meeting.”
She slides around Abe, but he moves a minuscule amount to the right when I try to enter.
“I will fucking kill you,” he says, emulating Darth Vadar.
I clap his shoulder. There’s no way in hell he’d ever make good on that threat, but I understand the warning.
Abe’s dad greets me with a toothy grin. Arriving at Fujimori’s with Isolde is like arriving with a celebrity. Workers shout in greeting, waving at her. She replies to each of them, reminding me of how she interacts with the guys at Leon’s.
“Take this,” Abe’s dad instructs. It’s a bowl of vegetable ramen. Someone else hands her another plate.
“She’s not the staff,” Abe corrects, scooping everything out of Isolde’s hands. “Ben’s already sitting.”
Isolde steps out of the kitchen, where Jane is hustling toward her. I noticed their interactions when I started coming here. Jane treats Isolde like a daughter.
She fusses at her son in Japanese, settling Isolde in Ren’s booth. A second later a Coke is placed on the table.
Abe slams a cup in front of me. “Here’s some water.”
Ben frowns after his boyfriend. He’s got a smattering of paperwork in front of him, his tie tucked back as he eats. “Thank you,” he tells Abe when his coffee cup is filled. “Youwant any?” he asks, knowing I can always go for a cup of coffee.
Abe turns away. “He’s fine.”
Isolde shoots him a look, which is noticed by Ben, whose furry eyebrows are now glued together.
“What’s going on?” he asks in an easy-going tone. It’s digging none-the-less.
“Abe’s acting like he caught us having sex in the alleyway when it was just a fucking hug.”
Ben chokes on his coffee.
Isolde takes no notice, moving right on to business. “I want the Henderson contract.”
Ben is still dying, his face red as he wipes his mouth with his shirtsleeve. “You shouldn’t even fucking know about that.”
Isolde doesn’t explain where she got the information from. “I want the contract and the Addam’s.”
Ben places his mug down, rubbing his chest. “The Addam’s?—”
“Want me,” Isolde says, clasping her hands on the table in front of her. “And I’m going to fulfill the ones that are already on the books.”
I knew she had several because she stays booked, but I want more details. I’m not sitting at the table because I’m the guy fucking her. She knows our schedules are now intertwined.
“Addam’s conflicts with?—”
Isolde counteracts Ben. “Harold, yeah.”
