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“Your father is sixty-eight years old.”
“You barely see your family. You don’t invite them over, though I know they exist. What’s wrong? Embarrassed by them?”
His gaze hardens. I’ve gone too far, hit too close to home. I tense.
“Your mother left you when you were six years old.”
I reel back, my heart jumping in my chest.
“How? How do you know that?” Why would you bring that up?
“I know where she is now too.” His face is cold, cruelly beautiful.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t care.” I know she’s in California. I know she wants nothing to do with me or my father. I don’t need to know her exact location.
“Are you sure, Thompson?” His voice is silky. Exactly the voice I imagine Satan himself has. Dark smoke and secrets.
“How dare you?” My eyes pop open. “I can’t believe you would bring that up.”
Emotion flashes across his face. He pushes off the desk. I step back.
“Stay away from me.”
He stops, looking uncertain.
“I need to leave.” My voice is high, panicked. “Fire me if you want. I need to leave.”
“Okay, Thompson. Okay.” He raises his hands placatingly.
I scoop up my belongings and practically run out the door. I sit on the cold subway seat and inhale shallow breaths. I don’t think about my mom. It’s a lost cause. She didn’t want me and I don’t want her.
You’re mine. It’s so fucked up how much I liked hearing that come from Jonah’s mouth. And entirely fucked up that I can’t stop thinking about his soulful eyes and his handsome face. I hate him so much it makes my hands shake, but I still find him attractive.
I pull out my phone and text Luz.
Callie
It didn’t work. Anyone else you can set me up with?
One more date. And then I can forget about Jonah Crown and just try to survive.
17
Callie
Jonah won’t look me in the eye on Monday morning. I spent the weekend stewing and trying to get photos of an actress who just left her husband for her younger co-star. All I got was my arm twisted by her security detail and a shot of her eating a salad for lunch. I even checked my mom’s social media pages for a few minutes before I had the good sense to shut my computer. Thanks, Jonah.
I meet him in the office lobby, and he silently passes me a coffee. I nearly drop it in surprise when our hands touch.
“Is it salted?”
“No.” He grimaces. “That was…childish of me.”
An apology. Of sorts. The coffee and the admittance that he feels a little bad. Probably all I’ll get from him. I sip gratefully as we ride the elevator in silence.
His jaw is clenched and the hood of his sweatshirt is up. All black again today. Black hoodie, thin black pants. The Prince of Darkness works out. I laugh softly to myself.
“What’s so funny, Thompson?”
