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“Yes, I’m sure wearing designer clothes and smiling in front of a camera is exhausting.”
“You’re such a fucking prick.”
Normally I’d take offense, but this is Liza. We’ve been friends for longer than I can remember. She’ll call me on my shit any day, and she talks and drinks like a sailor.
She’s one of the guys. Only much more attractive.
Opening the bottom drawer of my desk, I pull out two glasses and a bottle of scotch. I pour each of us a drink and hand a glass to Liza, which she takes without question.
She swirls the amber liquid several times, staring at the glass like it holds all the answers before finally taking a sip.
Leaning a hip against the side of my desk, I study her for a few seconds. “You okay?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Lifting a brow, I silently challenge her.
“I’m good.” This time when she brings the glass to her lips, she downs it and hands it back to me. “I’m just restless, that’s all.”
I pour her another two fingers and hand the glass back. “Restless?”
“Yeah,” she says. “Don’t you ever get restless? Don’t you get tired of doing the same damn thing day in and day out?”
“Not really, no.” I might get tired of the people in my life, but that’s an entirely different conversation. My life itself is great.
“Bullshit.”
“You’ve got a great life, Liz. Women would kill to have your job and your looks. You travel the world, stay in the nicest hotels, eat at the finest restaurants, and see things most people will never see. Not to mention that you’ve been on the cover of nearly every fashion magazine. So tell me, what’s really the problem?”
She takes another sip. “The problem is I’m doing it alone.”
“What happened with Javier?”
“Xavier,” she corrects. “And you know as well as I do that he wasn’t going to l
ast.”
“Sounds to me like you need another distraction.”
She stands up, placing the empty glass on the table in front of her. “What I need is you.”
Ah, fuck.
Now it’s my turn to down the rest of my drink. I know I’m going to need it. I place the glass on my desk and run a hand down my face. I should’ve known where this was going.
“Don’t.” I move behind my desk, putting some distance between us. “Don’t do this. You said you knew the score. I thought we were past this.”
With a look of sheer determination, Liza steps around the desk. “I said what you needed to hear.”
And that’s where I fucked up.
Despite what happened between us, Liza and I will always be just friends. I made the mistake of sleeping with her, and she made the mistake of thinking our tryst was something more than fun. Maybe I shouldn’t have fucked her, but how is a man supposed to resist pussy served on a platter with no strings attached? Or at least that’s what she agreed to—until she turned the tables on me.
And I nearly broke her heart.
After a two-month stretch of tearing up the sheets, she asked for more, knowing I wasn’t willing to give it. It took a year for us to rebuild our friendship, something I thought was going to be impossible until she met Xavier, and even with that, it’s been rocky.
“Don’t do this, Liz.”
