Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 129427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“Porteras hasn’t failed in fifty years, I doubt it will on the one day you’re not present to hold the place together.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek. His face was much softer midday than in the evening, without sharp five-o-clock shadow on it, and I liked that he let his lips linger a touch longer than he had to for a casual peck.
“Give yourself a moment. I’ll leave first, and tell Deja you’re not feeling well. And I’ll see you tonight.” He gave my arm a gentle squeeze then walked away, leaving the office door open a crack behind him.
I waited a few minutes, until I knew he had left. He’d taken down the decorative mirror that Gabriella had hanging behind her desk, so I sat down to his computer and woke up the screen. Immediately, I saw Photo Booth open in the dock.
“You’re just as vain as the rest of us, Mr. Elwood,” I said under my breath. “You’re just sneakier about it.”
I checked my face on the screen and dabbed around my eyes with a tissue. It didn’t look too bad. I shook my shoulders and took a deep, cleansing breath before heading out to my desk.
“Hey, is everything okay?” Deja asked as soon as I emerged. She’d been sitting in my chair, but immediately got up and motioned me over.
I nodded, mortified. “I’m fine. I’m just... not feeling great. I’m going to go home.”
“Did he upset you in there?” Her head turned just slightly, as if she were about to back away. “I don’t want to work for a yeller.”
“He’s not a yeller. He’s not mean, I’m just...” I didn’t want to lie to Deja, but obviously I couldn’t tell her the whole truth. I quickly settled on, “I’m just having a hard time with this whole company takeover thing. I really liked my old boss.”
“I get that, believe me.” She gave me a closed-lipped smile of understanding as she nodded her head. “See, I thought you were upset because I’m here, taking over your old job, and you really liked Mr. Elwood or something. I thought you guys had worked together for a long time.”
“No, we’ve just known each other for a while.” That didn’t sound too bad. People met and did not fuck each other every day.
She crossed her arms, comprehension dawning on her face. “Okay. Okay, that explains it.”
“Explains what?” Go, go, just go, don’t become friends because you’ll be tempted to tell her too much just go—
“I’m not sure I should say anything.” She pressed the fingertips of one hand to her forehead. “This is embarrassing, but I kind of got the impression that you guys were... I don’t know. Playing James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhaal in there.”
I knew my mouth was hanging open, and I hoped she took it for shock because the idea had never occurred or was revolting to me. “Wow, you have a very good imagination.”
I’d said “imagination” and not “intuition,” right?
“Yeah, a little too good. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to say anything about you or your ethics. At all.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, let’s start over. Hi, I’m Deja.”
I forced a laugh, and hoped it didn’t sound too psychotic. “It’s okay. No offense taken.”
“No, that was off-sides.” She shrugged. “It’s just... have you noticed the way he looks at you? And he’s always looking at you.”
“No, I never noticed.” I suddenly remembered how very sick I was supposed to be. I blinked and pressed a hand to my temple. “I’m sorry, I have just the most crushing migraine, and the lights are going to drive me bonkers. Are you going to be okay here today?”
“I’ll be fine; I think I have this under control.” She patted the desk. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yup.” But tomorrow, I’d be sure to wear my romantic-speculation-proof hazmat suit.
* * * *
A long afternoon off restored me, just like Neil had predicted. I was still furiously embarrassed at how the morning had turned out, and disappointed in myself for being so strangely emotional about sex.
Okay, yeah, the books had mentioned that heightened endorphins and stuff could mess with my emotions. But I was usually bulletproof when it came to separating sex from feelings.
When I arrived at eight, I entered the suite and heard the sound of the shower running in the loft. David Bowie’s “Lady Stardust” played over the sound system throughout the room, loud enough that I pitied Neil’s temporary neighbors.
I wondered if I should stay downstairs, or go up and join him. But he’d wanted to talk tonight. Maybe he didn’t want sex at all? I wasn’t sure where we stood on that subject at the moment. Still, I put down the bags of takeout I’d brought along, slipped off my coat, and headed up the stairs.
The shower in the bathroom was “European” style. Which I guess means that all of Europe loves spilling gallons of water directly on their bathroom floors. When I’d used the damn thing, I hadn’t quite gotten the trick of it, and would have much preferred a curtain to the single glass wall.