No. It can’t be. Too old, right?
I swear to God, if he’s made my job harder…
The young guy gives me a cautious smile.
I frown. “You better not be his child.”
The kid jumps up. “McCarthy?” His voice cracks. “No, ma’am. Half brother.” He swipes a card, hits the up button, then yells into a walkie-talkie, “She’s incoming.”
“What the hell? Is your brother spying on me?”
The kid shrugs.
I step into the elevator and hit the down button.
Am I leaving Truman in the penthouse?
Yeah.
Because in a weird way, I kind of trust McCarthy with Truman, even if I don’t trust him with my person.
Also, I ran out of his favorite dog food, and I don’t get paid ’til next Friday.
It’s the weekend, but it’s Seattle, so half the town is out going to their favorite farmers’ markets.
A lady carrying twenty pounds of kale gives me a weird look as I stumble in front of her, heels in hand, trying to adjust my purse strap, and combing my fingers through snarled hair.
“Look, this is actually not the lowest I’ve been this week,” I tell her.
She fishes out one of the kale bundles. “Antioxidants.”
“I don’t—”
“It’s a superfood.”
My phone rings. It’s him.
“You’d seriously rather beg for kale on the side of the road than accept my hospitality? I could have breakfast brought in for you—waffles, bacon.”
“Pick a girlfriend, asshole. Charity ball is tomorrow.” I hang up and look down the block at the tower and see a figure in a suit hanging over the glass railing way up at the top of the tower. There’s a little brown speck that is probably my dog in his arms. McCarthy has binoculars in his hand.
I give him the finger.
My phone rings again.
“Forget the charity ball. Go to Monaco with me.”
“You are so transparent. I’m not going to fall in love with you and make a fool of myself.”
“Truman wants you to.” He sends me a photo of him with the dog.
Fuck him.
“Fuck you.” I stomp off, ignoring the fluttering in my heart.
I should know better than to drink with McCarthy. Clearly, that was the only way that was going to go. When people tell you who they are, believe them. He told me from day one that he was trying to sleep with me and get me fired, and here we are. It’s just like what happened with Brock and Andreas and Nathan.
I catch a glimpse of a future with McCarthy—used and discarded in the most humiliating fashion.
