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“What about the other five percent?”
I study her for a moment. It was a good call to put the hoodie on. I still imagine her lips on different parts of my body, but at least I can maintain some kind of cool.
“Enough about me. Why don’t you tell me about your charitable work?”
She licks her lips, drawing my attention to them. I came to New York to seek my lost desire. I didn’t expect it to come in the form of this angry dragon with the body of a mermaid, but God help me, do I want to sink my teeth into her throat.
“Unlike you…” There is venom in her tone now, but I’ve come to believe it’s a mask. Why is she hiding, and who is the real London is the question? It intrigues me as much as her body.
She swallows hard. “I use my money to help people. There is so much that can be done if the wealth was better distributed, and the irony is the rich wouldn’t even feel the difference. I run the foundation, as you know from last night, and make sure that much-needed funds flow into research and service for people with deadly blood disorders.”
“Unlike me, hmm? What areyoutrying to atone for, London?” I use last night’s words against her, because for some bizarre reason I want to know why she is so angry, why she doesn’t own more furniture, why she isn’t the socialite her status calls for but rather this good girl. Good girls don’t harbor as much boiling emotions as she does.
She winces and straightens her legs. No, she snaps into a rigid position, practically building a wall around herself. “So you took a sabbatical and what? You’re just going to work from home here? To stay away from the temptations of your usual life, but other than the scenery you won’t change much else?”
“Whoa, your ability to segue is non-existent.” I laugh. “I’m not staying away from temptations. I changed the scenery and cut a few—a bunch of people—from my life to learn to recognize what’s real. I lost track of that. So no, London, I’m not just in a different apartment doing the same thing.”
“But you have been working. You have a research assistant. Have you done all the work for the hospice just to get a date out of me? I don’t think you’re that desperate.” She raises her eyebrow, taunting me.
“I found the notice and felt the urge to solve a problem. I guess that’s something that excites me. I also took a pro bono case, and frankly the satisfaction is akin to the feelings I used to have after winning a case. It’s just this little thing for Cesare’s brother, but it’s fun.”
“Who is Cesare?” She frowns.
“The doorman.” I put the empty containers into the bag.
“What doorman?” She stands up and starts helping me, clearing the table and placing the dishes into the sink.
“What do you mean?” I snort. “Our doorman.”
“Oh, I don’t know his name.” She shrugs.
What the fuck? “He said he’s been working here for ten years.”
“So?”
“Let me get it straight. You care about all the anonymous people. Yes, they are sick, but not really in your life, you throw fancy parties to raise money for them, but you don’t give a shit about someone you meet every day? That’s rich.”
She whips around from the sink, her breathing shallow. “So you spend your whole life getting criminals back on the street and then take one pro bono case, and suddenly you’re on higher moral ground? Judging me?”
Okay, she took this way out of proportion. “I’m just surprised you care so much in one area of your life and don’t give a shit in the other. I know the names of the people who are regulars in my life. Is this caring, charitable London just a pose?”
“Maybe I’m not a people person,” she snaps. “I think you should go now.”
She’s riled me up. Again. I grab her arm and pull her closer. It takes her by surprise and she collides against me. I don’t quite understand how and why our conversation escalated this quickly, but God the feel of her is maddening. And talking to her is no less taxing.
We glare at each other. Our chests heaving. The silence between us fills with pent-up frustration and borderline anger. Why?
What the hell am I doing? Forget the attraction. We could engage in a casual hate-fuck, but we’re both so headstrong we would probably kill each other in the process.
I let go so suddenly that London collapses against the counter. She gasps and I storm out of there.
Chapter7
London
“Dad, we need to talk to Bianca about this. You can’t just leave without discussing it with her.” The scent of steaming coffee reaches my nose as I fill my cup.
Dad sits at the bench by the window, his hands trembling. Fragile, his face is pale, and it’s breaking my heart, but I promised myself to be strong for him. I’ll be his person. Just like I used to think I was Kyle’s person. Until I wasn’t.
