Page 39 of The Unfluencer

Until a knock sounds at the door.

Without another word, he unlocks the door and dashes away as fast as he showed up.

Chapter Nine

Warner

Waged

“I’m out.”

I push my chair away from Cord’s wooden dining table where I’ve been working for the day. Where, even with the sound off, I know my phone is still pinging. Hasn’t stopped for the past two days.

He tosses me a sidelong glance.

“All right, man…” Cord stretches back on the hind legs of his chair. “I’ve still got to work on a few changes for the new menu. As soon as I announced that stewed okra dish… Boom! A months-deep waitlist. And tomorrow…” He whistles. “I’m working on slow-cooked collard greens and handmade gnocchi. It’s just like the crème de la crème of soul food meets Italian cuisine, man. Phenomenal. Easily the best Ellswood County has ever⁠—”

“Did you hear me?” I choke out, whirling around to face him. Frustration cuts my tone. “I said, I’m out. I’m not meeting Whitney about the collection.”

“Oh.” Cord lowers his chair to the floor, finally getting a clue that I couldn’t care less about food right now.

I inhale sharply, breaking eye contact. “At the end of the day, I just don’t have it in me to add anything else to my plate, you know?” Closing my eyes, I clear my throat. “Privacy’s been an ongoing issue, but it’s gone too far now. Zeek Harrison blowing up my phone about Sherry’s collection. Then showing up at the Artery, like there weren’t enough cameras on me…”

“Yeah, every blog and news outlet is running something on the Restroom Rendezvous.” Cord winces. “And don’t even think about logging onto social media. Shiiiiit…”

“Oh, trust me, I wouldn’t.” I nod, repeatedly.

Damn. It was stupid to think I could go out at all without it turning into a fucking media circus.

“But yeah… already told you, it’s cool if you want to set up here for a few days. I’ve got the room.” Cord shoots me a nervous smile, drumming his restless fingers over the wooden tabletop. “It’s too warm in here, don’t you think? Should I open a window?”

I let out a heavy sigh.

Frustration prickles along the back of my neck because he’s just not getting it. A sleepover at my buddy’s house isn’t going to solve my problems.

“Bro, it’s Monday, and they’re camping out on every corner near my office building. Crowding the gates at my house. Now, one of them almost got inside.” My voice reverberates, hard and cold, off Cord’s vaulted ceilings. “And, you know, my security team is there now. They’re turning it into fucking Fort Knox.” I let out a strangled laugh. “Can you imagine what could’ve happened if I’d left an hour later? If neighborhood security hadn’t been patrolling?”

“Damn, that’s scary as hell.”

“You think?” Irritation creeps up my spine.

I stand, moving on autopilot, pacing the length of his cozy, book-lined dining room as the last forty-eight infuriating hours play on a loop in my head.

“Mom’s doing hourly check-ins. I’m working at my best friend’s kitchen table like I’m doing math homework when I should be preparing to roll out a multimillion-dollar update for the RealSpace Engine on the Mod3D app. And I’m…exhausted.” And horny as fuck.

“Man, that’s a lot,” Cord says.

“Yeah, it is.” A hollow laugh croaks out of me as I think how much worse things could be if I’d actually hooked up with Whitney in that closet bathroom. “All that, and you want to know what’s really fucking grinding my gears the most?”

Cord tilts his chair back again and folds his arms across his chest, looking at me with that annoying smirk.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Whitney Graves is exactly who I thought she was.”

“Oh yeah?” He perks up, getting it all… well, not all wrong.

The way she looked at me in that restroom, I was losing my shit, trying to keep it together out of respect for her. The woman I met between those four fun-sized walls deserved more than a supply closet hookup.

At least, that’s what I believed until I heard her comments on that Scene and Heard It All vlog. She’s inclined to agree with all the baseless hot takes about me in the headlines? Then, in the same breath, proceeds to admit she doesn’t know me? How in the hell does that work?