Page 29 of No Merciful Corruption

My stomach’s in knots. I think I’ve lost my appetite.

“Está bien. Quiero que esto quede solucionado para el fin de mes. Si necesitas algo, pregúntale a Lettie.”

Apparently Lettie’s involved. Must be work then.

There’s a pause and an exasperated huff leaves his lips as he rolls his eyes. “Beni, bye.”

He hangs up and leaves his phone on the counter.

I watch as he moves to the sink and washes the few dishes he dirtied. In the meantime, I make a halfhearted attempt at eating the grilled cheese I no longer have an appetite for.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He nods but doesn’t look back. He lets the water run for a little while before turning it off. “Just work. Same as always.”

I attempt to keep the conversation going. “I hope it isn’t too stressful.”

“Not too much.”

“It must be if you’re thinking of going back this weekend.”

“Barcelona is where all the work is.”

“Don’t you have an office here?”

“In New York?” he puts the clean pan on the dishrack to dry. “There’s a corporate office in Midtown. It’s a smaller one though.”

“Maybe you could work out of there for a few weeks.”

“I could but I don’t see a reason to.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why not?”

He turns around. “Dahlia.”

“What?” I shove a bite of grilled cheese into my mouth. “I’m just curious.”

“No you aren’t,” he says with a certainty that grates my nerves. “This is your way of dancing around a topic until you can steer the conversation in the direction you want it.”

I sit up straight. “That’s manipulative and I’m insulted.”

“No you’re not.” His eyes narrow. “What is it?”

I take another bite of my sandwich to avoid having to answer right away. “Well, I was just thinking it’d be easier for you to work if you were in an office setting. That’s all.”

He leans forward and braces himself on the kitchen counter. Under the scrutiny of his gaze, I find renewed interest in my lunch. The edges are buttery and crispy, the inside gooey and cheesy, and the scent of the fruit bowl beside me reminds me of summer. My juice is perfect and cold and Alejandro is wearing a turtleneck today which is making me lose focus. I’ll never understand the obsession women have with gray sweatpants and thermal shirts. It must be because they’ve never seen Alejandro Narvaez in a dark burgundy turtleneck tucked into a pair of fitted charcoal gray slacks that hug every inch of his thick, muscled, toned thighs and gorgeous ass and oh my God I am going to kill myself.

Every once in a while I’m reminded of just how attracted I am to him and it makes me want to ram my face into the nearest metal pole. How am I supposed to sort through my feelings if I’m in heat like some kind of rabid animal? It’s ridiculous and humiliating.

He must not find in me what he’s looking for because he pulls away from the counter and rolls down his sleeves. “I’ll think about it.”

“About staying?”

“About the office in Midtown.”