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“The fact that you don’t think those two things are synonymous is the entire problem.” She turns around and starts grabbing her cleaning supplies, but then she drops them just as quickly. The bucket falls sideways on the floor, a rag and bottle of glass cleaner tumbling out.
“Are you going to take that with you?”
“No,” she snaps. “I’m not. Because I can’t be in here with you. If you want to leave, I’ll stay and clean. But if not—” Her expression hardens. “If I had known you were going to be my boss, not only would I not have almost kissed you that night, but I also never would have taken this job. You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.”
“Then why are you still thinking about staying and letting me show you how bad I can be?”
Her face flushes, revealing the fascinating truth that I’m right.
Again.
Silently, she turns and stomps out of the room, leaving me alone… and harder than I’ve been in years.
13
RAYNE
After work, I trudge to the bus stop. The entire time, I can’t stop looking over my shoulder. But no black car with tinted windows pulls an about-face to offer me a ride.
Good. I wouldn’t have accepted anyway.
But by the time I ride the bus to the stop closest to Lana and Mitchell’s house and then drag my sorry ass another mile uphill, I’d accept a piggyback ride from Satan himself if he offered. My feet are killing me.
I stop outside the door to my guesthouse. My hand is on the knob. One twist and I’ll dive into my bed and not budge until my alarm goes off bright and early tomorrow morning.
But I’m hungry. I know for a fact the only thing resembling food in my fridge is a carton of eggs that have lived in that fridge almost as long as I’ve lived in L.A. And I also know for a fact that Lana keeps a stash of frozen burritos in their deep freezer for nights the twins are feeling especially picky.
My stomach rumbles at the thought. Just like that, the decision is made. I turn towards the house.
The driveway is empty and the only light in the entire house is the one above the kitchen sink that stays permanently lit. It looks like everyone is out.
“I’ll leave a dollar for the burrito,” I rationalize quietly to myself as I use my personal key to their backdoor. I push it open and step into the dark laundry room. There’s a pair of red-bottomed Louboutin high heels kicked carelessly against the wall. I roll my eyes. “Or maybe not.”
I step over the shoes that cost more than I’ll make in a month and walk into the kitchen. The deep freezer is in the pantry, so I cut a left and reach for the sliding pocket door.
“Got the munchies?” a voice says from the other side of the kitchen.
I scream and slam myself back against the wall. My arm flails, knocking the stainless steel kettle off the counter and sending it clattering across the floor.
Lana barely even reacts. She just swirls her alarmingly full wine glass and arches a brow. “Someone is jumpy.”
My heart is about to beat out of my chest, adrenaline quickly turning to anger. “Yeah! Becausesomeoneis sitting in a dark kitchen by themselves. What the hell, Lana?”
“Do I need to remind you this is my house?”
I hear the echo of Kirill’s voice always reminding me it’s his house. His front door. His room. His everything.
A shiver moves down my spine at the reminder that I was in his bedroom. Pressed against his body, his fingers twined through mine…
I huff. “No. I’ve been reminded enough today that I have no power, thanks.”
“What?” Lana asks.
“Nothing, forget it. You just scared me. I didn’t think anyone was home. There were no cars in the driveway. And no lights on.”
Lana looks around like she’s surprised it’s so dark. “I guess I’ve been sitting here longer than I thought. The sun was up when I sat down.”
I walk to the island and grab the nearly empty bottle of wine in front of her. “And what about this? Was it full when you sat down?”
