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“All right then, on a separate note, you wanna tell me why you were at Elsa’s apartment at ten o’clock the other night?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake…”
Callie snickers as I roll my eyes and groan.
“Well?”
“He was perving on her.”
I raise my middle finger to Callie.
“I was dropping off some paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
I sigh. “Justpaperwork. Why the fuck is everyone so up my ass about this?”
“Because you’ve historically mixed with her about as well as oil does with water, that’s why. What’s going on?”
Aside from the fact that I fucked her four times the other night, and then kissed her again a few days ago? Not much.
But even that’s a lie. Iwantto be able to say there’s nothing between Elsa and me. That she’s an honest-to-fuck ice-queen, a prude—well, most of the time—and a serious pain in my fucking ass.
Except I’ve gotten a peek behind that ice-queen I. And I don’t just mean because of our marathon, masked fuck-a-thon at Club Venom—okay, maybe that’s a huge part of it. But more than that, ever since that night, when I’ve crossed her path, I see a different Elsa than I used to see. And again, I don’t just mean because now when I look at her, I imagine her naked, moaning, and writhing on my cock.
I used to view Elsa as my nemesis. The Toby Flenderson to my Michael Scott, if life were an episode ofThe Office. A fun-hating, all-business, uptight, frosty littlebitch.
Now, I kinda get it.
Elsa’s a fucking partner at the most prestigious law firm in New York at the age of twenty-freaking-six. That’s insane when you think about it. I’m unable to fathom the work and the hours it must have taken to get there.
And on top of that, as ifthatwasn’t a Herculean achievement enough, she’s got her teenaged sister living with her.
“And she’s living with you right now?”
“She’s always lived with me.”
What the hell is “always” supposed to mean? Like, Elsa never left home while going to school in England? Or that she did, and Nora came with her? It occurs to me that I don’t know a damn thing about Elsa or her family.
But bottom line, for whatever reason, Igetthe head-down, all-business strictness and the general frostiness now. I’m not sure it’s so much that Elsa’s an ice-queen bitch, but rather the way she walls off the world, to give herself space to even take a breath.
“Nothing, Jesus,” I say with some irritation, running my fingers through my hair and pushing it back from my face. “Relax, man.”
He eyes me with a look that says he’s not necessarily buying my shit, but that he’s ready to leave it on the shelf for the moment. Then he clears his throat.
“Do you, ah, still talk to Vanya Mirzoyan at all?”
Mother. Fucker. I was wondering when he’d bring that shit up. So I play dumb.
“About the acquisition of her dad’s Albanian Mafia empire? No, sorry.”
Ares frowns. “You know what I mean. Since you two dated in college.”
My jaw clenches. “We did notdate.”
“I was trying to be polite. Fine, I’m asking you if you still keep in contact with Vanya since fucking her in college.”
“First of all, one drunken, way-too-toothy, not-to-completion blowjob doesnotmean we dated.”
