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I definitely deserved that.
Chapter 10
Aurora
Islam my apartment door so hard it feels like it shakes the whole building. Charlotte jolts, her head snapping up. She was apparently sitting on the couch in the middle of painting her toenails.
“Whoa,” she says, hastily screwing the cap of her nail polish on. “Bad day?”
“The fucking worst,” I grumble, stomping over to the fridge to grab a beer.
Unfortunately, it was my turn this week to do a grocery run, but I put it off because of how busy I’ve been at my internship. There’s practically nothing here. Just a carton full of questionable eggs and half a carton of milk that’s nearly a week past its expiration date. I take the milk and dump it down the sink.
Just my luck.
Not only am I still hot and bothered, I can’t even try to wash away the day with a chilled can of Bud Light. I don’t know if I want to scream or tear my hair out or storm back into Mikhail’s office and give him a piece of my mind. Husband? What the hell is he talking about?
I glance down at my mother’s ring, a wave of cold guilt washing over me from head to toe. This whole time… Has he been avoiding me because he thinks I’mmarried? Oh my God, I want to punch that beautiful face of his and then kiss that noble idiot all over.
Charlotte waddles over to join me in the kitchen, walking on her heels, mindful of her neon pink toe separators. She sits down at the table and looks at me curiously. “You wanna tell me about it?”
“Men are the worst.”
Charlotte laughs. “Boy trouble, huh?”
“You have no idea. I mean, is it so hard to say what’s on your mind?”
“Just point me in the right direction and tell me whose ass I need to kick.”
I manage a smile. “That’s sweet, but we don’t want you getting all bruised up before your photoshoot tomorrow.”
“Very true. I guess the homicide will have to occurafterthe photoshoot, then.”
I roll my eyes. “So it’s elevated to murder, has it?”
“Nobody fucks with my bestie and gets to live to tell the tale,” she says adamantly. “You know what you need? You look like you could blow off some steam. Let’s go out and grab a drink or something.”
“I don’t know… I have an early day tomorrow.”
Charlotte bats her lashes at me. “When was the last time we had a girl’s night, hm?”
“We had taco night last weekend.”
“You know for a fact that’s not what I mean. I want to get all gussied up and go out somewhere.”
I huff a laugh. “Are you telling me my stretchy jogging pants aren’t fancy enough for you?”
“You need to let loose, babe. There’s nothing wrong with going out once in a while.”
“You’re just saying this because you don’t want to cook.”
Charlotte shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Come on. My treat?”
I rinse out the empty milk carton and set it aside to throw away later. “Well, if it’syourtreat.”
* * *
The Red Orchid is one of the swankier lounges downtown. It’s a new haunt, popular with customers of the classy-rich variety. The line to get inside wraps around the entire building and extends past the block, but one look at Charlotte is all it takes for the bouncer to give us a nod of approval and let us through—much to the chagrin of those near the front of the line. We ignore their rightful complaints, escaping the chilly evening to step inside.
