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“Not for that job,” I explain. “My other job. With Timofey.”
There is a long stretch of silence before Noelle speaks again. “You still work for him?”
“Last I checked.” I try to laugh, but it doesn’t sound genuine. “It’s just a dinner.”
“But you’re supposed to be getting away from him. That’s why I did all of that research, right? He’s not a good guy.”
“I know. I asked you to look into that stuff—”
“A murder,” Noelle interrupts. “Not ‘stuff.’ A murder.”
“Right. I asked you to look into that, but it’s all a lot more complicated than we thought. Timofey didn’t do it.”
“Because he got his hitman to do it for him!” Noelle hisses.
“I thought that, too. At first. But I talked to him, and—”
“Fuck’s sake, Piper.”
Noelle has a way of sounding like a scolding mom sometimes. It makes you want to please her. I chew on my lower lip, but can’t bring myself to say anything. I don’t know how to explain my decision to myself, let alone to Noelle.
“Fuck,” she says again, almost to herself. “He sucked you in. I knew he would.”
“Excuse me? He hasn’t sucked me anywhere.”
Obviously, my word choice leaves a little bit to be desired. My cheeks go red hot.
“Are you having sex?” The question is blunt and clinical. It makes everything Timofey and I have done in the last week feel wrong.
“That doesn’t have anything to do with anything. I’m capable of making rational choices regardless of—”
“You are,” she accuses. “You’re fucking him, and now, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
Whatever guilt I feel is washed away by the condescension in her tone. “Stop it, Noelle. You are so—so judgmental sometimes.”
She gasps in surprise. Usually, Ashley is the one levying that accusation against her. She doesn’t expect it from me.
“Only because I care about you. I don’t want you getting hurt!”
“Well, luckily, I don’t think this thousand-dollar gown I’m wearing is going to hurt me,” I snap.
“Is he buying you clothes now?”
I groan. “No. Well, yes. Just this one dress. But it’s for the event.”
She laughs cruelly. “I’m sure it’s a tax write-off for him.One dress for this month’s booty call.Fucking you is a business expense.”
I stand up and pace across the room, too angry to stay seated. “It’s not like that! Don’t make this something it isn’t.”
“Last I knew, this was a rescue mission,” Noelle says. “You were there to save a little kid from a bad guy. Now, you’re playing House with a killer and acting like nothing is wrong. So maybe you’re the one making this something it isn’t, Piper.”
Her words ring a little too true, but I don’t have the capacity to deal with this on top of my first public outing with Timofey in less than twenty minutes.
“If you called to insult me then you’ll just have to wait. I’m busy, and I have to—”
“I’m sorry,” Noelle blurts. She sighs, and I can imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose, the rings on her fingers slipping around her thin fingers. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m being judgmental. I’m sorry.”
I’m not quite ready to forgive her yet, but I don’t want to look like an asshole. “Thanks. Thanks for saying that. I’m sorry, too.”
