Page 572 of Manhattan Bossholes

Felicity scrunched her face, clearly taking that as an insult. I started collecting tangerines so I didn’t have to look at her because damn it, she was stunning even with the messy ponytail and no makeup.

“Where were you stomping off to?” she asked as I handed her the final piece of runaway fruit. She juggled the three bags she was trying to carry. “Wherever it is, I pity the people on the other end.”

“Not tonight, Fagin,” I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “I’m going home, okay? Been a rough couple of hours.”

She took me in for a moment. I must’ve looked as bad as I felt, because her tone was a little gentler when she spoke again. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I’m going home too. Why don’t you walk with me and tell me all about it? Getting it off your chest might help.”

It was a surprisingly kind offer coming from someone who normally acted like she couldn’t stand me. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about my family problems with my employee, but now that she knew we were both going in the same direction, I was stuck with her.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Hand me one of your bags, I’ll help you.”

Felicity paused. “You, chivalrous? Now that’s a shocking twist from the cab thief I thought I knew.”

“You have no idea what I’m really like,” I groused at her as she gave me a bag filled with what felt like bowling balls.

“Fair point,” she said as we set off. “Now, talk. Tell me what happened.”

For a moment, I considered spilling the mess with my brother and that woman, but I realized it would be better to keep the professional boundaries in place. There was something about Felicity Rhodes that destabilized me, and I wasn’t used to the sensation. It was almost like I needed a reason to keep my distance from her. She was beautiful, that much was obvious, but she was also fearless. And smart. And not afraid to speak her mind, even to me. She kept me on my toes, something few people were capable of. It would be too easy for a woman like that to mess with my head, and I couldn’t let that happen.

“Wow, it must be bad if you’re actually keeping your mouth shut.”

I whipped around to respond and saw a little smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

“I’m kidding. You don’t have to say a word. We can just walk in silence, like you’re my personal assistant helping me cart my groceries home.”

I snorted. “Sure, that works.”

We walked another block and Felicity stopped abruptly.

“Um…” she looked down a side street nervously. “I need to go this way.”

I frowned at her. “We’re literally a block away from the building. Why would you go that way? It’s three blocks longer. Did you forget where you live?”

“Um…” she shifted her weight a few times, glancing in both directions. “There’s a little park down there that I love. Hanwell Park? Do you know it? It has a bunch of places to sit and enjoy nature, and it’s really charming⁠—”

“Yeah, of course I know the park,” I interrupted. “But it’s dark and cold now. Why the hell do you want to go there at night, with all of your groceries?”

“It’s uh, it’s one of my favorite places in the city and I…never mind. It’s fine.”

“You’re an enigma, Fagin,” I said as we picked up the pace again. “I don’t get you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she fired back at me.

We passed by the indie bookshop I always wished I had the time to visit. I glanced at the window display, and when I saw the book featured in it, it was my turn to stop in my tracks.

“Hey, that’s the book Glen was talking about at the brainstorming meeting.”

By the size of the poster in the window and stacks of hardcover books piled around it, it was clear that Glen knew what he was talking about. Unhinged Heart looked like a blockbuster.

“Have you read it?” I glanced at Felicity.

Her body was angled so that she was staring straight ahead, like the bookshop was a monster she couldn’t bear to acknowledge.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “What’s going on with you?”

She sniffled and shook her head, still not looking at the window.

This was dipping past “odd” and into “worrying.” What could possibly have her so rattled? Whatever it was, I didn’t like the way it made her hunch in on herself, like she was hurt or scared. “You’re acting strange. Talk to me, Fagin.”