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I’m going with Landon, so there’s no way my pictures won’t end up somewhere that ‘matters.’ Not that I really care. I had other things on my mind. Landon was already in San Francisco, probably caught in the whirl of final preparations and meetings, and somewhere in the same city, was Ava Sinclair.
He’s been fucking her for years.
I don’t want to dwell on her, and I’ve tried not to, but after I return to my office, my mind goes back to last night. They were comfortable with each other, friendly even. It didn’t look as if she was nursing any rancor about Landon supposedly dropping her like a ‘hot smelly potato’ as her brother said.
Maybe Evans Sinclair had exaggerated, I tell myself. Maybe it was his imagination that Landon had used his sister to get the Gold Dust. Maybe Landon and Ava were just friends and business partners. Maybe they’d never been lovers.
Even though I know the idea is wishful thinking, especially given her body language from last night, it still makes me feel better. I spend the next hour reading the comments on the latest of my articles on the Gilt Travel website, replying just a few of them.
Joe is with Landon in San Francisco, so I have a replacement driver, Rafael. When I’m ready to go home, I call him, and by the time I get downstairs, he’s waiting for me in a Swanson Court International town car. He’s younger than Joe, Latino, with wistful brown eyes and hair in a long dark ponytail.
“Good evening,” is all he says, when I’m inside the car. Like Joe, he doesn’t talk much.
“Good evening,” I reply, wondering if reticence was a quality Landon looked for in employees. Just then, my phone starts to ring. It’s Landon
“Still at work?” His voice is deep and husky on the phone, and it reminds me of last night, that same voice whispering endearments in my ear while he made love to me.
I’m suddenly overcome by a wave of loneliness. “No. I’m on the way home.”
“Lucky you.” He sounds wistful.
“How are things?”
“We’re ready.” He pauses. “I’m mostly waiting for you to get here.”
“What do you have planned for me?” I say with a smile.
I hear him chuckle. “Why don’t you come and find out.”
I sigh, missing him so much it actually hurts.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“Just that I can’t wait to see you either,” I say truthfully.
“Rachel.” He says my name slowly, almost as if he’s savoring the sound on his tongue, and the knowledge that he feels the ache of our separation makes my heart swell. “Well, at least you still have your clubbing tomorrow night,” he reminds me.
I manage a laugh. “You’re still jealous.”
He doesn’t attempt to deny it. “I am, but I want you to have fun. I’ve arranged for Rafael to pick you up and take you wherever you want, in a car more suited to night crawling.”
I raise a brow. “Really? What? A white stretch Cadillac limo?”
“Is that what you want?”
I sigh, knowing that if I said yes, he would make it happen. “Not particularly.”
He chuckles. “Something less ostentatious,” he says. “He’ll also make sure you’re safe.”
This obsession with my safety… It’s endearing, but tiring. “Why wouldn’t I be safe?”
He doesn’t reply. “I’ll see you Saturday,” he says. “I... take care.”
I… what? I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Take care,” I reply softly.
WE talk again before I go to bed, and the next day on my way to work, then again at lunchtime. After work, Laurie and I arrive early at Chelsea’s place. She instructed us not to bother with hair and makeup, so when Rafael drops us at her Upper East Side apartment, we’re still dressed casually.
A doorman lets us in from the street, then the reception checks to make sure that our names are on the visitor’s list before directing us to an elevator.
