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“Something has to give. Maybe I should just end it.”
“No.” She stands and offers me her hand. “Come on.”
My gaze diverts again to Max and Justin. Are they, or aren’t they? Justin pulls his phone out of his pocket and answers. He waves goodbye to Max and hurries out the door.
“How did I ever let myself get into this?”
“Because he’s like Zeus. Men like Carmelo Mancini were born to be noticed and wanted and craved. Even if he ends up being the asshole we cast him as, you had great sex, right?” She picks up my purse and thrusts it into my chest.
“True. He is great in bed. Not selfish at all.”
“Huh… that does surprise me a little.”
Oh, the stories I could tell her. How his eyes are always watching, soaking in information. Or how he’s perfected the way I like him to play with my clit. He’s figured out my body like a genius solves a complicated math problem. Step by step by step.
“I see I’ve lost you to a recollection of sex with him, so don’t forget you’re mad at him.” Evie chuckles.
“Right.” I point at her because I was close to wanting to strip down as soon as I entered his condo. “Very good point.”
She laughs and opens my office door. “Now go and be the strong, self-assured woman you are.”
Max turns her chair to face us. “Back straight, chin up, Bella.”
I nod.
Evie opens the door to the hallway. “Call me after… even if it’s tomorrow morning.” She winks.
I hope she’s right. I hope he feels the same way I do. That whatever this is between us is worth the risk of being hurt if it were to end. Maybe we can keep business and personal separate. Maybe Carm has changed his view on relationships.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
“Thanks,” I say.
Evie wraps me up in a big hug, her patchouli perfume suffocating all my senses. “It’s what I should’ve done in the first place. Love you, chica.”
After one more tight squeeze, she pushes me out into the hall—right into Margo Gregory exiting Carm’s brokerage office.
* * *
“I’m sorry.”I touch her bicep. Damn, she must work out regularly.
She smiles curtly. “You’re that FSBO girl, right?”
Girl?
“Yes,” I say, making my way to the elevator.
“What’s your name again?” she asks.
I press the button for the elevator since she’s standing there expecting someone—me, I suppose—to press it. “Bella Scott.” I put my hand out between us.
She looks at it, contemplates for a second, then daintily puts her hand in mine. “Nice to meet you. You should use my pore reducer. It does wonders.” I’m not sure what my expression says, but she rushes to clear up her meaning. “Not that you’re not beautiful.”
“Thanks?”
The elevator arrives and we step inside. Again, I’m the one who presses the button even though she stood on the button side of the elevator. I guess with wealth comes immobility. The door closes and the elevator descends.
“So you’re fucking Carm, are you?”
