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“What are you doing here?” His eyes run me up and down, assessing my attire. I guess this is the first time he’s seen me in anything but a suit.
“Just visiting.” He doesn’t need to know that I’m hiding… I mean,rediscoveringmyself.
“You should come to Roxie’s in Chelsea. It’s still the best nightclub in Manhattan. The girls would love to see you.”
“Sure, I’ll come by when I get a chance.” Probably not. He’s already judging me, probably wondering how many shades of crazy I’ve gone.
With his eyes narrowed, like squinting at someone has ever uncovered anything, he shakes my hand. “Great. I’ll put you on the guest list. It was nice running into you. I like the new look.” He gestures around his chin, clearly hating the beard as much as Rocco. Or me, for that matter. “Take care, man,” he adds, concern lacing his tone.
His appearance screams money, prestige and composure. His expression paints a picture I don’t want to see. There may as well be a flashing sign across his forehead: Fuck, man, you’ve sunk low.
He is not wrong. I turn to leave before remembering I didn’t order. Walking away would only confirm Ben’s assessment, but it’s not like staying here will improve it. Fuck it. I’m not staying here to endure his glares.
The fresh air does nothing to regulate my breathing. The idea of returning to my building squeezes my lungs even more. I should take care of the boxes at least. They are still scattered around the hallway.
The memory of that kiss is spicy-sweet. It was an angry kiss. I definitely want to know why she cried. What happened to her? She jumped me because she needed to release tension. But I enjoyed her lips on mine. Eager, almost aggressive, taking. Full and soft, her lips tasted like sin and promise.
The best part was that even my dick showed interest in finding out how the rage sex would be after that angry kiss. Shame she cut it short. Too short.
Leaving the boxes could provoke her again. What a little pissed off princess she is. God, she’d be angry if she knew I referred to her like that.
Her hot and cold treatment confuses me though. Why did she pretend not to know me last week? Or smile and wave when I saw her in the lobby the other day?
I don’t get the wigs either, but maybe she likes changing her hair all the time. She should stick with the black. Not that she’d care about my opinion.
“Good morning, Cesare, how is it going?” I greet the doorman at my building with a grin. Oddly, a courtesy of my angry neighbor. Or the memory of her.
“I’m fine. How are you, Mr. Cressard? You seem in a good mood.”
Why I am in a good mood after the morning debacle at the court, or the less than pleasant run in with Ben, I will never know, but I’m going to run the wave.
“I guess I am today.”
“Mr. Cressard, I don’t want to overstep, but I took the liberty to inquire about a storage facility.”
I frown.
“For your boxes, sir,” he adds, fidgeting with the cufflinks on his uniform’s jacket.
“Oh, thank you. I was actually going to take care of that. That’s helpful, Cesare. Give me the address.”
“I can have someone pick them up today and have them moved. Unless you want—”
“Perfect. Thank you, Cesare.”
I guess that’s it. I’m moving on to the next stage. As I should. Those boxes don’t hold anything that I need.
My pulse quickens though, and I crack my knuckles as the elevator rises. There goes my cheerful mood.
My attachment to those boxes is pathetic.
Cesare texts me to confirm the movers will arrive in two hours. It’s probably someone he knows because there is no way he found movers on such short notice, but that’s fine. If I can help his family or friends, why not?
It turns out it’s his brother, Alonso, and a nephew who comes for the boxes. Alonso has been laid off. He tells me the story as they are piling the boxes into the service elevator.
“But that’s a wrongful dismissal, man.” I hand him a box. They protested my help, but I’m so desperate for company and something to do that I insisted. They probably assume I’m a control freak, or that I’m expecting them to steal from me.
“Yeah, and what am I going to do about it? I went to a legal clinic, but they are so overworked that by the time they get to my case I’ll be retiring.” He wipes his forehead.
