Page 24 of The Stranger

“Maybe you shouldn’t have followed me.” She slides her back along the wall, turning without taking her eyes from me.

“Presumptuous.”

Her gaze flashes angrily.

“Maybe I was there to watch,” I add, following her. But the only person I’ll be watching is you.

Neither of us speaks for a moment, though we both watch the other like a hawk.

“You made me watch,” she says. Whispers, almost.

“I suppose I made you kiss me too.”

“Stop.” Her protest is weak; the finger she points my way shaking. It would be a very bad idea to bring it to my mouth. To place my teeth over it. To suck the salt from her skin. “Which part of that sounds like an extortion attempt?”

Her shoulders hit a row of shelves. I don’t imagine lifting her up and fucking her against the priceless texts.

“I want you out of my house.” She wouldn’t be the first woman to try and insert herself into my life for personal gain.

“No.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I made a promise to my friend, so you’d better just deal with it.” And she actually pokes me in my chest.

In a moment of madness, I lean into it, the scent of chlorine and her floral shampoo registering in some primitive part of my brain. “Your friend who no longer works for me?”

A frown ripples across her brow. “Just try it and you’ll see.”

I press my hand to the shelf nearest her head. “Fuck around and find out?” The way my breath disturbs her hair is fascinating.

“Exactly,” she whispers softly, her hand tightening on her towel as her chest heaves.

“You should leave before I have you arrested for trespassing. Emmy will never get another job after I’m done. I’ll ruin her career.” I pull back so she can’t mistake my meaning. “Then I’ll ruin yours.”

“There is no conspiracy and no impending blackmail. If you knew Em at all, you’d know she’s too pure for that.”

“I suppose you’re going to try to tell me you’re pure, too.”

“No, I’m a shrew.” Her gaze studiously avoids mine as she suddenly sweeps her hand across my chest as though wiping away dust. It’s hardly the manner of a seductress, more like she’s getting rid of crumbs. Had I still been seated, I think she might’ve patted me on the head. “And I’m vindictive with it,” she adds, suddenly sliding under my arm.

“A warning?” I turn and watch as she crosses to the fireplace. “Please don’t tell me you’ll play the woman scorned.” I sound terribly bored.

“As if I’d ever want anyone to know what happened last night.”

“Excuse me if I don’t believe you.”

“Get over yourself. You weren’t even that good.”

My incredulous laughter bounds from my office walls.

“I can’t even believe I was there myself,” she murmurs as she saunters over to the fireplace, stopping at the Picasso. “It was stupid really.” She tilts her head as though to study the brushstrokes. Maybe she’s considering stealing it. She can. It’s a fake. The real one is in a Geneva freeport as a little legal tax evasion. “I haven’t had sex in well over a year,” she muses, almost to herself. I go still. “The last place you’d catch me hanging out is with a load of sexperts.”

Sex… experts?

Fuck that. “I’m not biting.”

“I don’t care.” She casually strolls to the bookcase at the far end of the room like she has no more fucks to give. Barefoot and almost silent, she trails a delicate finger over the rows of antiquated books.

“You should care. The fate of your friend is⁠—”

“It’s just two days.” She tips back a small volume, then flicks through the pages. “I’m sure we’ll both get over it,” she says, slamming thousands of dollars of book shut.