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“I wish you could take my word for it, or else pretty soon it will have something to do with you. Get what I mean?”

Yes, I get it, so I finish eating without another word and clean up while he continues pounding away on the keys. And I thought I was an aggressive typist.

Since there’s really nothing better to do once I’m finished cleaning up, I spend the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon watching TV while thinking back on more of the scenes I’ve written. Some of them, I get the feeling, are much better in fantasy than reality. Like a gang bang or even a three-on-one situation like in the reverse harem I told Adrian about. Sure, it seems like it would be hot, but I think it would take a lot of planning and more choreography than a Broadway show.

Would I really want that kind of hassle?

And then there are situations I don’t think I would ever be brave enough to try for real. Sex in public, for starters. I might be able to write about a girl getting railed on a moving train, but I don’t think I’d have the guts to give it a try. That’s the kind of thing you can get arrested for—or at least, I guess it is. I’m not committed enough to look it up.

However, there are situations I researched online that I think would be fun to try out, as long as he’s into it. The more I think about it, the more excited I get, until I’m tempted to ask if he wants to try a little more research today. I mean, I’m sore, but I can ask him to take it easy on me.

There are other things we can do too. I could give him a blow job, for instance. At least he knows I’m inexperienced, and that would take away some of the pressure to perform. There’s something hot about imagining him telling me what to do too. Maybe holding my hair in his fist and guiding me up and down.

I’d better be careful, or there’ll be a wet spot on the sofa pretty soon.

He finally closes the laptop and stands, stretching after sitting in the same position for so long. I’m almost convinced he knows what’s been on my mind. It has to be written all over my face, right? I suck at hiding what’s going on in my head.

But no, he has no clue. I mean, he would have to pay attention to me, for starters. It doesn’t seem like he’s capable of that today. Even once he drops onto the other end of the sofa, all he can do is check his phone constantly.

“What’s really happening?” Enough of this. I click off the television and turn to face him. “Tell me the truth. You’ve been totally wrapped up in something all day. If it doesn’t have to do with me, what does it have to do with?”

“I’m busy, that’s all.” He gestures toward the TV. “Come on. I was just starting to get into this.”

“You were just starting to get into a baking show?”

“I would like to know whether the contestants were able to get their chocolate to set even though it’s really hot in the tent this week, yes.” Sure, he can insist all he wants, but he’s looking at his phone again within ten seconds of me hitting play.

“I know something is going on,” I urge. “And I would really like to know what it is. I have to live here with you right now, right? It’s only fair if I know what’s happening.”

“Why is it impossible for you to take my word for it?” He turns an angry face to me. At least he set his phone down, though. “I’m trying like hell not to be rude, but you’re making it a real challenge.”

“Oh, this is you when you’re not being rude?”

“When I’m being rude,” he retorts, “I tell people to mind their own damn business. Notice how I didn’t do that.”

“You just did, though, didn’t you?”

His head falls back and his eyes close. “For fuck’s sake. Fine. I know where Victor Ivanov will be this evening, and I’m confirming my intel to ensure nothing has changed. Happy?”

“That you tracked him down? Yes, I am happy.”

“Now that you know, will you let me do my job in peace?” His phone buzzes and he picks it up, looking hopeful.

“So wait a minute. Exactly how do you get a lead on a guy like that?”

“Researching for your next project?” he asks without looking my way.

“I’m just curious. What, do you put a call out with your . . . What would you call them? Associates? Colleagues?”

“Actually, you’re not far off.” It turns out he can send texts from his phone while talking too. “I have a network of freelancers I trust.”

There’s this whole other secret world I knew nothing about before fate put me in the seat next to his. “That’s kind of fascinating.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.”

“So these . . . hackers? They found him?”

“They did. And he’s going to a big meeting tonight with a couple of guys who are associated with different crime families in the area. They found the location and sent it to me.”