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Dimitrios is watching me as though I’ve sprouted two heads. ‘Seriously, what’s going on with you?’
‘Nothing. I’m just amused by her.’ Amused? Yeah, that works. I’m fucking amused—turned on—going out of my mind with lust for her.
‘You are unbelievable.’ He shakes his head but there’s a smile on his face—Dimitrios knows me better than anyone. He might not agree with my life decisions but he never gives me grief for them. ‘Just don’t fuck it up by—fucking.’
A thread of disloyalty runs through me. Dimitrios and I don’t ever really talk about my social life. He doesn’t ask questions, I don’t volunteer information. But he knows that I’m not exactly lonely. I know if he’d asked about anyone else, I wouldn’t have shied away from the conversation. Not the details, just confirming that, yeah, in fact, we are, in a sense, seeing each other.
But there’s no vernacular to adequately describe what Jessica and I are doing. ‘Seeing each other’ sounds too formal. ‘Fuck buddies’ isn’t right either. I know that’s what we agreed to but it’s not just fucking. I like her.
Even thinking that makes me smile because I remember the way she was last night, blushing when she inadvertently admitted that she liked me too. And now I’m grinning like some kind of adolescent.
Jesus.
I sober, standing up, pacing to the windows of Dimitrios’s office. ‘I don’t want to fuck it up,’ I say, seriously. ‘Her business is hugely important to her. I want to buy it because if we don’t, I’m not sure what will happen.’
‘So you’re doing this purely out of a sense of altruism?’
‘No.’ She’d hate that. ‘It’s a good investment.’
‘I agree.’
‘But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some personal agenda.’
‘Just—’
I turn to face Dimitrios, waiting for the rest of the sentence. He rubs a hand over his chin in a gesture that I do so often it feels familiar. ‘Yes?’
He looks frustrated. ‘Who am I to talk? Just use your head.’
* * *
‘You seem different.’ Jemima frowns as she studies me, her fork poised halfway to her mouth. I feel Mum’s eyes burning me from the left.
‘Different?’ I flick my fingers through my hair. ‘Could it be this?’
She grimaces as she eyes the hint of pink I had foiled into the ends. I couldn’t resist a chance to tease Zach—and to show him I’ll do whatever I want with my hair. It had the unexpected bonus of appalling Jemima and Mum. ‘I suppose you can tuck it into a bun,’ Mum had said with a watery smile.
‘No. I noticed it at breakfast too. What’s going on with you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ve hardly seen you this week.’
My jaw drops. ‘Hardly’ seen me? I feel as though I’ve spent hours of my life at my parents’ place. I quickly turn my surprised expression into a smile. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way. I’ve had a lot going on with work.’
‘You work too hard, darling. How are you ever going to meet anyone if you’re always in the office?’
‘I don’t want to meet anyone,’ I say reflexively, my insides tightening as I think of Zach. A sense of longing creeps over me, flooding my veins. It’s a visceral sense of need—a need to see him, to touch him, taste him, smell him, to wrap my arms around his warm body and feel his arms around me, to step up onto the tips of my toes and kiss him slowly, kiss him hard. It’s a need to see him smile, to watch the way it spreads slowly over his face as if every muscle is being gently prodded to life until even his eyes appear to smile. It’s a need to hear him laugh and watch him move, his lithe athleticism always captivating. It’s a desire to ask him the thousand and one questions I forgot when I was with him, because he’s too mesmerising for my brain to fully function.
‘I’m serious, Jessica. You’re grinning. What’s got into you?’
I flatten my smile. ‘I told you—it’s work.’
‘I take it it’s going well, then?’ Mum asks, trying hard to keep her tone light even when I know she disapproves of how much emphasis I put on my career.
‘Yes, very.’
‘Have you decided which of the offers you’re going to take?’
