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“Very cute, Natalia.” He held the phone so close to his mouth, Natalia imagined he might chomp down on it by accident. “This is for the grown-ups. I know Reyes is used to her academia namby-pamby bullshit, but there are millions invested here.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not involved in Dr. Reyes’ management.”
“You’re the fucking boss,” he croaked. “Or have things changed since the last time we had the misfortune of speaking? I don’t care who tells her, but Reyes has got to understand that it’s not just her show here. She’s being an obstructionist. Refusing to approve anything?—”
“My staff will be happy to endure your troglodyte charm on Monday.”
“Don’t test me, Natalia,” he snapped. “There’s no reason for this woman to take down your agency’s admittedly sparkling reputation,” he said it like it truly pained him and Natalia wondered who had hurt this cretin so badly. “She has to be open to ideas. Have some flexibility. No one gets everything they want, okay? If they did, I wouldn’t have a prostate the size of a damn cantaloupe. You need to explain to Reyes how this business works before she ruins?—”
Natalia showed Mack that the only thing she needed to do was hang up the phone. After hanging up, she tossed her phone onto the bed in uncontrollable disgust.
Her mind was racing to piece together details, even if she knew she shouldn’t. Mack obviously thought she was looped in on the matter and she didn’t want to divulge that she had no clue what the hell he was talking about. The room was spinning. She couldn’t find her bearings.
“Babe! Breakfast!” Sam’s voice fluttered up to the loft and put her pounding heart in a chokehold.
Fuck.
CHAPTER 52
After inviting Natalia to the Coconut Grove Passion Fruit Arts Festival after breakfast, Sam was mildly surprised she’d taken her up on it. She’d expected her to say she didn’t have any more time for her that weekend, but instead she’d pulled on her sunglasses and walked out into the hazy, humid morning.
The festival was only a few blocks from her house. Pedestrians and cars packed the streets and crawled toward the bay.
Strolling next to her, Natalia’s energy was unreadable. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet since she’d come downstairs in Sam’s crumpled shirt from the night before. It had been a sight so hot, Sam had happily left the bagels to burn in the oven, but Natalia had been distracted. Distant.
From their first stilted kiss that morning, a pit had been growing in Sam’s gut. A sticky, acidic void spinning wider with every step. But if Sam knew anything about Natalia, it was that she would leave if she wanted to. She didn’t use pretense or politeness. She would have grabbed her shit and walked out.
But she hadn’t. She hadn’t even hesitated when Sam asked if she wanted to check out the festival. Pushing the caustic doubt aside, Sam led them toward the huge, white entrance tent and purchased their tickets after standing in a painfully long line.
By the time they got to the outdoor festival grounds, the air was thick with humidity. Palm trees lining the bay were beautiful, but offered no reprieve from the mid-morning sun.
“I should have brought a parasol,” Sam joked, wiping the sweat from her brow with a napkin.
Natalia had stopped at one of the white tents displaying vibrant artwork, her eyes hidden behind dark lenses. “How very Victorian of you,” she said without any bite, and stepped around the photorealistic manatee family rendered in chalk on the street.
Moving through the dense crowd, the roar of live music getting louder as they reached the heart of the festivities, Sam tried to muscle Natalia out of her strange mood.
“This is a real make-it-or-break-it moment,” Sam said when they reached the food quarter where vendors of all kinds inhabited tightly packed tents — the mouth-watering aroma of grilled foods wafting in the all-too-light breeze. “King of Pastries or Pastry King?”
The always shrewd Natalia looked distracted when she turned her face to meet her. In that moment, Sam would have given anything to hear what she was thinking — to know where she’d gone.
After a beat, Natalia seemed to have recalled Sam’s question, and she tipped her head to one side. “There’s only one choice, isn’t there, Professor?”
Even the use of her playful moniker did nothing to settle the roiling pit in Sam’s stomach. It was even worse that Natalia was trying to hide whatever she was feeling. At least she’d always been able to count on Natalia being direct.
Like something stuck in her back molars, Sam picked at the feeling expanding in her chest. She couldn’t ignore it, not for another moment.
Iced café con leche in hand, they drifted toward the open bay, dark water lapping against the stone retaining wall. Off shore, sailboats were bobbing dots reflecting the punishing sun.
“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Sam asked while they followed the walking path along the water. “If we’re moving too fast?—”
“It’s not that,” Natalia replied without an ounce of reassurance in her tone. “Something came up with work. It has me preoccupied.”
Drinking the rest of her latte before tossing the cup in a trashcan, Sam stopped walking and turned to Natalia. “This only works if you can talk to me,” she said in a tone too close to pleading. “If we communicate.”
“Everything is fine, Professor. Nothing to get all dramatic about,” she said it like she almost believed it.
Sam didn’t believe her for a second. She didn’t need Natalia’s human lie detector powers to know something was bothering her. To know something was wrong.
