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“She’s not exactly a mortal,” Sage pointed out.
“You know what I mean,” I snapped. “She may not have a human lifespan, but it’s still not as long as mine.”
Sage continued to stare at me, unspeaking.
“What?”
“But?” she sighed.
I grunted and flopped back into my chair.
“But I did offer her a job,” I mused. Sage sniffed and also sank down onto the sofa that Bianca had previously occupied. “It wasn’t for naught. I am nothing if not a male of my word—which is more than I can say for some.”
“You don’t have to sell me on your virtues, Atlas.”
She was right. I didn’t. I was just rambling aloud, as though Bianca’s way of talking too much had infected me through osmosis. I didn’t like the way she’d left, the look of hurt in her eyes telling me too much. I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d wronged her, though.
She stole from me. I let her go. I offered her a job to help her find a way out of her current predicament. She refused. I couldn’t help her sister—not while she was in Jesse’s territory.
Was she hurt that I turned down her advances? As much as I wanted to fuck Bianca in a million different ways, I couldn’t.
“Send her word again,” I decided. “Tell her that the offer is still standing, but not to come here unless she’s willing to work.”
“Write it down,” Sage said, but I shook my head.
“No. Have the message delivered orally. Having things in writing is too risky, and there’s already one job offer floating around. Let’s not tempt fate by doing it a second time. I only did it at first to confirm the authenticity of the message. Send word and have her respond.”
Sage stood and pivoted for the door without a comment, her conflicting emotions washing over me. Like me, she wanted to help Bianca, but she understood the repercussions of getting tangled up with this.
Maybe she’ll ignore the invite,I thought, the notion both nauseating and relieving.And that will be the end of that.
Waiting for an answer was going to be excruciating.
* * *
There waslittle sense in waiting around the casino at that hour of the morning, and I made my way home shortly after word was sent out to Bianca.
Of course, sleep was no longer an option, and I entered my open-concept kitchen to find one of my maids cleaning. Luve jumped when I stalked into the room, her eyes popping as she sized me up in the tracksuit.
“Oh, Mr. Atlas,” she mumbled, dropping the sopping sponge back in her bucket. “I-I didn’t expect you to be awake. I’ll clean somewhere else.”
I shook my head and sidestepped her equipment, heading toward the espresso machine.
“Don’t bother, Luve. I just want a cappuccino, and I’ll head out to the pool,” I promised her. “I got woken up.”
“Let me make you a cappuccino, Mr. Atlas,” she insisted, wiping her hands. “Please.”
I started to protest, but she caught my hand and stared into my eyes.
“Please,” she said again. “It’s the least I can do.”
A flicker of embarrassment shot down my spine, but I shrugged it off and relented.
“Fine,” I said gruffly, turning away before she could say what I knew was on the tip of her tongue.
I was glad to know that her son was doing better after the trouble he’d endured, but Luve’s endless gratitude was hard for me to take.
“I’ll be under the wisteria.”
