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Ugh.
“Yeah. Maybe. It’s something I kind of do by myself to relieve stress. I’ve never done it in front of an audience before. I’ll have to work up to that.”
“Well, clearly, based on the state of your fingers, it’s not easy.”
“Yes. Harder than you think.”
“That makes what you carved for me even more special. Thank you.”
Guilt was suddenly consuming me. “You’re welcome, Bianca.”
I stared out the window for a bit, trying to snap myself out of the shitty feeling. “Where would you like to go next?”
“I have to be home by ten forty-five, actually.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I have some work I have to do.”
“Work?”
“It’s actually my ongoing interview with Dexter Truitt. It’s via online chat.”
I sucked in my jaw. “Mister Moneybags?”
“Yeah. Rather than one sit-down interview, he’s scheduled me in during the evenings. Eleven each night, Monday through Friday. I guess that time works best for him.”
“So, you have to bend over backwards to accommodate his schedule?”
Two things were wrong with that question. One: I was making Dex look bad. Two: I was getting hard thinking about her bending over backwards with her legs open for Dex. Again…fucked up.
“Actually, it’s worked out well to have a set time at night. His daytime schedule is too full. It won’t be forever. My deadline is coming up at the end of the month.”
Funny you should say that. So is mine.
“Okay, well, we have at least an hour before I have to drop you home. What would you like to do?”
“Honestly? I would love to see where you live, if it’s not too far from me in SoHo. Maybe have a cup of coffee.”
“Really?”
“I hope asking to go to your apartment doesn’t sound too presumptuous.”
“No. Not at all.”
The reality of how far I’d taken this Jay lie really hit me in the moment. Knowing that my alter-ego was going to need a place to take Bianca to, I had rented a furnished apartment through an agency on a month-to-month agreement. How had I gotten myself here? If what I’d done ever came out, it was going to sound dirty—like I’d rented a fuck pad somewhere. When the truth of the matter was, I was inexplicably crazy about this woman and kept digging myself deeper in an attempt to buy more time with her. The entire thing made no sense to me, how would I ever get her to understand that down deep I’d done all this with the best of intentions.
She smiled at me with those big brown eyes, and somehow I justified my actions…again. “What part of the city do you live in?”
I had to think. Where did I live? I hadn’t had a chance to visit the place yet, even though Josephine had gotten me the key. This was going to be a risk, but I didn’t know how to get out of it. I checked my phone, pretending to look at the time and instead discreetly checked my email for the address of my “house.”
“I live in NoHo.”
“That’s perfect, then.” She grinned.
Yeah. Perfect.An old man who apparently lived next to me gave us the evil eye as we stood in front of my door. Then, he disappeared into his own apartment.
“You don’t normally say hello to your neighbors?”
Not when they don’t know who the fuck I am, no.
“That guy doesn’t like me very much. He’s always complaining when I play music.”
Upon opening the door and getting a look at what we were stepping into, I was ready to kill someone.
This looked nothing like the furnished apartment I saw online. The décor was tacky and ostentatious with lots of white, purple, and gold accents. I was completely speechless. How the hell was I going to explain this one?
Things took an even weirder turn when I spotted a humungous portrait of Elvis hanging on the wall. And, in the other corner was a life-size statue of Liza Minnelli.
Bianca’s mouth was hanging open. “This is…”
“My aunt’s place,” I quickly said. “She…died. And left me the apartment. I haven’t had the heart to change her signature style.”
“That’s so sweet of you. How long ago did she pass away?”
“About a year now. Eventually, I’ll redecorate, but it just seems too soon.”
She rubbed my shoulder. “I can understand that.”
God, I was getting so fucking sick of this. I just wanted to take her into my arms and tell her everything. Why couldn’t I?
She basically answered my question when she suddenly gripped the material of my shirt and pulled me into a kiss.
That was why.
I was going to lose this.
Nope. I wasn’t ready to tell her anything, because there was a very good chance I would never get to feel this again. She didn’t like liars, and you, Dexter Truitt…Jay Reed…whoever you are…are a liar.
A coldness replaced the warmth of her body as she stepped away. “Can I use your bathroom?”
