Three Little Mistakes

by Nikki Sloane

  “That’s disappointing,” I said when we were seated in the car. “I was kind of hoping we didn’t have to go back to our real lives.”

  He grinned. “Me, too.”

  We’d been back two days before a nasty head cold hit me. Either I’d picked it up flying back, or the weather change had taken its toll on my sinuses. I couldn’t get out of bed, and slept through class for the first time in years, but I was too miserable to care.

  It was late afternoon when I sent a text to Joseph.

  I was torn. I wanted him, but the stronger part of me knew he needed to work. I’d gotten a solid week of his time, and now he was way behind with his businesses.

  I laughed and the sound echoed in my empty apartment.

  Thirty minutes later the front desk called to let me know Payton was on her way up, and I dragged my feet to the front door.

  “Hi,” I croaked out.

  Payton was as stunning as the first time I’d seen her. Her boots clicked across my entryway when she entered, a large, flat package wrapped in brown paper tucked under her arm.

  “Sorry for, you know, this.” I gestured to my flannel pajama bottoms and sweatshirt that had seen better days.

  “Are you fucking kidding? You’re fine. He said you were pretty sick.” She untucked the package. “Joseph told me this goes in the bedroom.”

  I didn’t need to peel back the paper to know what was behind it. I followed her down the hall and was irritated and delighted at the same time. Payton laid it down on my bed, opened the thick paper, and revealed the framed picture I’d wanted to buy in Hawaii.

  “Pretty,” she said.

  “That asshole told me he lost the keys. He must have gone back and gotten it.”

  “He bought you artwork.” She smiled. “Yeah, what an asshole.”

  “I told him not to.”

  Her expression was amused. “How’d that work out for you?”

  I sank down on the bed and watched her prop the frame up against the wall. It wasn’t hung yet, but I could already tell the proportions were perfect.

  “I love him,” I blurted out.

  “Do you?” She asked it like she was curious. “You love all of him, even the not-great parts?”

  I wondered what exactly she meant, but a knock came from my front door, making both of us jump. I sighed. Joseph had taken back Ross’s key, but I’d forgotten to remove him from the list of visitors who could come up unannounced. I left Payton in the bedroom and moved down the hallway. My body ached as I pulled the door open.

  My father stepped inside, his eyes filled with concern.

  “Hey.” I smiled widely. He never came to my place. “What are you doing here?”

  “You cancelled dinner tonight because you were sick.” He had a black wool jacket on over his suit, like he’d come straight from the office. “Honestly, Noemi, I came to see if that was true.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Where were you last week, young lady?”

  Oh, shit. The medicine head made the effects of being caught in the lie worse, and I latched a hand onto the couch to support myself. “Uh . . .” It seemed pointless to dig my hole deeper, and really, what was the big deal? I was twenty-three. I hadn’t done anything dangerous or illegal. “I went to Hawaii with my boyfriend. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

  “Shit.”

  The air in the room plummeted twenty degrees when Payton’s voice rang out. She stood in the hallway, her face paper-white and her wide eyes pointed at my father. His expression was blank, which I hadn’t seen before. He was an emotive man, so it was bizarre.

  “Dad, this is my friend, Payton.”

  Neither of them moved at first, but Payton finally marched forward and held out her hand. He took it.

  “Nice to meet you, Paige,” he said.

  “It’s Payton,” she corrected, but her voice was tight, the last syllable dying on her tongue. She pulled her hand back quickly and adjusted the sash on her coat. “I should get going, Em.”

  “Wait a minute,” my father said. “How did you two meet?”

  Crap! Joseph had asked me to give him a few weeks before introducing him to my father. I needed an alternate story that didn’t involve Joseph. “Her fiancé’s a VP at Chase Sports. I interviewed him for a paper I had to write.”

  I was fairly pleased with the plausibility of my lie, until Payton looked like I’d punched her in the stomach.

  “I have to go,” she said quickly, her gaze dropping as she hurried out the door, not saying goodbye to either of us.

  She’d gone awkward at the sight of my father, but it happened occasionally. People were star struck by Anthony Rosso, who had no business being called a star. He’d only been in a few episodes of a TV show that aired several years ago, and hadn’t rated high. Plus, he was wealthy and had power, but he was still just a man.

  “You must make her nervous,” I said, expecting him to be offended by her abrupt exit.

  “What’s her fiancé’s name?”

  What on earth? “Why?”

  “We have a lot of money, and some people might want to take advantage of you.”

  I sank down on the couch, woozy. “Dominic’s a VP at Chase, I don’t think she’s hurting for money.”

  “Are you okay?” The concern was back in his voice.

  “Yeah, but this cold is kicking my butt.”

  As he went into the kitchen, his phone chimed. He came back carrying a glass of Kool-Aid and put his arm around me, helping me stand.

  “I should be kicking your butt for lying to me. Why’d you do that?”

  “Can I tell you I’m sorry, that it’s a long story, and explain it some other time when my head’s not pounding?” The thought dawned on me as we moved toward my bedroom. “How’d you find out?”

  “Ross called.” I stared at him with disbelief. “Hey, I’m as surprised as you. He was hoping I knew someone over at the accounting firm he’s interviewing at. When we got to talking, he mentioned you were dating an older man, and you hadn’t gone to Mexico with your friends.”

  “Fucking Ross.”

  The profanity shocked him and he almost dropped me on the bed.

  “I’m told this boyfriend has a tattoo, Noemi. You know I think tattoos are an intelligence test, and if you have one, you’ve failed.”

  “Don’t judge him,” I scoffed, curling up under the covers. “He’s smart.”

  My dad gave me a soft smile. “Of course he is. He’s with you, isn’t he?” He set the Kool-Aid on my nightstand and his phone chimed again. “I can’t push my meetings much longer. You need anything before I go?”

  “No, thank you.” He smoothed a hand over my forehead. “I’m sorry I lied, Dad.”

  “I know you are. Call me when you feel better and you can tell me about your new, dumb, yet smart man.”

  “Ha, ha. I’d have to get you on the phone first.”

  chapter

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  JOSEPH

  I could not get Anthony Rosso on the phone. I’d been trying every day since we’d returned from Hawaii. At first, I kept my name out of it. Rosso was a cautious man, and I was sure he’d assume I was trying to scam or blackmail him.

  All I wanted was to give him some warning about what was in the works. My name got me past the first line of defense—the administrative assistant who would win the gold fucking medal if brushing people off was an Olympic sport. Today I had a new person.

  “Mr. Monsato,” a male voice came on the line. “What is it you want to speak to Mr. Rosso about?”

  “A private matter.”

  The man’s voice turned rough. “I know who you are, cut the bullshit. What do you want?”

  I gnashed my teeth. “It’s personal.”

  “I can pass it along, but you won’t be speaking with him directly.”

  “That’s not going to work for me—”

  “If Mr. Rosso decides to visit your establishment, you can speak to him then, but don’t call again or y
ou’ll regret it. Goodbye.”

  I set my phone down on the restaurant table and glared out the window. I could feel time slipping away. After the man at the airport, and Payton’s run-in with Rosso at Noemi’s place, it was as if every moment was another opportunity to fuck up my plans.

  Payton breezed into the crowded restaurant and I gestured her over. She slipped her sunglasses into her purse, took off her light jacket, and collapsed into the seat.

  “You’re late,” I grumbled.

  “Oh my God, by a whole two minutes. Gimme a break.” She straightened in her seat and grinned at me, and her whole attitude was annoying.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

  Me, too. “I don’t see another option. The scandal, if it ever got out, would ruin her.”

  “But you love that place. And, Joseph, the fucking money.”

  “Nothing lasts forever.”

  I’d loved the blindfold club. Interviewing the johns and selecting which girl was best to pair with them to maximize my profit was a game I would miss playing. The money was amazing, but I’d also invested wisely and had three other businesses to run. My mind had been made and my decision was firm. I could walk away from the club and be fine, but if Noemi were linked to it through me, I’d never forgive myself.

  And I wasn’t ready to let her go.

  “Last chance,” I said to Payton, “if you want to make a bid.”

  She shook her head. “Dominic tolerates me working there, but owning the place? I don’t think so.”

  “Besides, you’re having so much fun with all that freelance copy writing you’re doing.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me.” She drank a sip of her water. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll do great as the new Joseph, and I’ll be there to help.”

  Julius arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early, wearing an anxious expression above his hulking form, but he relaxed a little when he spotted Payton with me. He’d always liked her, and they had a great, platonic chemistry.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, and I motioned to the seat beside Payton. “Something bad happen you wanted to talk about?”

  “No,” I said. “Something good. You’ve been working for me since the club opened. You know how it operates, you’ve handled the tough situations, and you always know what’s going on.”

  “Uh, thanks.”

  “Do you want to make more money?”

  “Sure. You giving me a raise?”

  “A promotion.” I took a deep breath and exhaled it out. “I’d like to sell you the club.”

  “Say what now?” Julius looked from me to Payton, confusion streaking his expression. I gave him a moment to see I was serious and let it sink in. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

  So he was interested. Good. I pulled out a manila envelope containing the formal offer, which sold the wine club front of the business.

  “I’d like to offer you a structured deal. Descending percentages of the profit going to me for the next few months as you transition in.” The paper trail would be a mile long, funneled through wine brokers and expense accounts, to offer me maximum protection if it was busted during that time.

  “Take these and read them over, let me know if you have any questions.”

  “Yeah,” he said instantly. “Where you going, and why not her?”

  “He’s going legit,” Payton answered. “And I can’t run it because men don’t trust women who look like I do. The owner needs to be male.”

  Payton made a good point, and Julius would be perfect. Men assumed Payton wasn’t smart because she was beautiful, and plenty assumed the same of Julius because he was an enormous bear of a man. Bouncers and escorts weren’t supposed to have brains, and it was a hell of an advantage.

  “You and Payton together?” I said. “You two will bleed the wealthy men of Chicago dry.”

  It had been a lot of fun doing that, but nothing lasted forever.

  Noemi had recovered from her cold by Friday afternoon. I hadn’t seen her all week. It had been one errand after another—lawyers, banks, and the usual day-to-day with my legitimate businesses that dominated my time. She was busy too, catching up on her classes she’d missed while sick, and studying for her finals.

  Our Tumblr account was . . . active. She’d been posting a lot more than five clips a day, and I teased I’d created a monster. I loved it, but my right hand was ready to blister.

  Hawaii had done a number on me. For the first time since the cancer diagnosis, I could imagine a future. I’d lain in the sagging bed in the yurt, listening to the driving rain, held a sleeping Noemi, and I could picture doing it again when we returned to Chicago. After. Giving up my club would keep that future possible.

  She hadn’t said those three words again since that night, not that I could blame her. But the asshole in me wanted to hear them again, and again. I needed them. Fuck, I needed her.

  She answered my call right away. “Hey, you.”

  “Where are you, baby girl?”

  “In a cab. I’m feeling too lazy to walk to the CTA station and wait. Why, what’s up?”

  “Let’s grab a quick dinner. I’d like to see you.” While that was certainly true, what I wanted to do was explain I was selling the wine club, and after this weekend when I was officially out, I’d tell her what it really was. It needed to happen before our relationship went any further.

  “Oh. I’ve got a meeting with my advisor at four-thirty, and I don’t know how long that’s going to go. Plus, I still can’t breathe through my nose. I might pass out on—Shit!”

  There was squeal of brakes, followed by an enormous crash and Noemi’s distant scream cut through the phone.

  My blood turned to slush. My heart froze into ice.

  “Noemi?”

  In the background, there was a male voice, heavily accented, shouting about a crazy asshole driver.

  “Noemi?” I yelled. Holy fucking shit, that scream was the stuff of nightmares.

  Fumbling noises echoed, and a hurried breath came on the line. “Joseph,” she said, “I’m here. I’m okay.”

  “What the fuck just happened?”

  “Somebody pulled right out in front of us. There was no way to stop in time.”

  My freehand balled into a fist. “Jesus Christ, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I mean, I banged my face into the divider, but I’m all right.” She exhaled a long breath as if trying to calm herself. “Excuse me, sir, are you okay?” I assumed it was to the driver, and I waited impatiently for her to come back on the line.

  “Where are you?” I demanded.

  “I . . . hang on.” There was more discussion between her and the driver. “We just got on Broadway.”

  I snatched up my coat. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Fuck, if I was lucky. Traffic across town was going to be a bitch.

  “Don’t do that, I’m fine.” A car door creaked opened and banged shut, and the wind whistled through the phone. “We weren’t going fast and the taxi’s barely damaged.”

  “You cannot leave, miss,” the male voice said. The taxi driver sounded upset, and I didn’t appreciate his sharp tone with her.

  “Joseph, don’t waste your time. The police will already be gone by the time you get here. I can grab another cab.”

  I was out the door and hit the key fob to unlock my doors. “I wasn’t asking, Noemi.”

  “Seriously, this is silly.”

  “The fact that you think I’m going to budge on this is silly.”

  She sighed, a long and exasperated one. “Fine. See you in twenty minutes.”

  My hands clenched the steering wheel so hard on the drive over, they ached, and I’d apparently hit the road right as the motherfucking asshole parade started. Thank God she was okay. The scream played on a loop until I finally spotted her. I didn’t care I was double-parked or that the engine was still running. I sprinted up the sidewalk and swept her into my arms, examining her for
any signs of injury.

  “I said I was fine,” was the greeting she gave me, her expression irritated. “See? Not even a bump.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re tough,” I said. “I’ve seen you take a punch like a champ.”

  She gave me a lopsided smile. “Can we get going now?”

  I led her to my car and pulled open her door. What a pair we made, me in one of my finest suits and her in jeans and fluffy boots, complete with backpack. The circumstances were shitty, but regardless, I was happy to see her.

  When I got back into the driver’s seat, I noticed her rubbing her neck. “Does it hurt?”

  “It’s just stiff.”

  “Maybe I should take you to the emergency room to be safe.”

  “For the millionth time, I’m okay. It’s a little whiplash. I need twenty minutes in a hot shower and I’ll be good as new.”

  I eased out into traffic and put my hand on her leg. It wasn’t an attempt to dominate or control, it was to satisfy my need to touch her. To connect.

  “My shower is better. It has a pulse setting.”

  She fiddled with her backpack straps. “No, I can’t go to your place. I need to change before my advisor meeting.”

  “You were just in a car accident. Give me the advisor’s name and I’ll reschedule for you.”

  She let out a noise of annoyance. “Can you try not to control me right now?”

  I wasn’t actually trying to. “Sorry,” I said, my voice plain, “but that’s not something I can turn off.”

  Her irritation seemed to increase ten-fold when she realized I wasn’t taking her home. “I said I couldn’t go to your place. Come on, Joseph.”

  Frustration tightened every muscle in my body, and it slipped out. “Hearing you scream scared the shit out of me. Can you humor me?”

  Her statement was flat. “I thought you liked hearing me scream.”

  Christ, was she serious? Her horrified, painful cry was a world away from the loud gasps of pleasure I enjoyed pulling from her. “No, never like that.”

  She didn’t protest anymore, in fact, she was absolutely quiet the rest of the drive. I could tell her neck was bothering her and I wished I could do something to help. I felt fucking powerless, and I hated it.