Angie couldn’t make sense of the poignant shift that had occurred here. Something about the way he was looking at her confused her to a degree that she hadn’t grown accustomed to. Usually she could get inside people’s heads and read them like a book. In all honesty, she’d been convinced she had Roman all figured out. The anxiety slowly building inside of her showed that she was completely wrong.
“Don’t insult me. Don’t do that,” she wheezed, trying to swallow. Her mouth was full of liquid, but her throat still went dry as she eyed the card lingering like a dark cloud between them. She recognized it as that credit card the biggest celebrities often touted—the one with no spending limit. It was a startling reminder of just who this man was, and how foolish it was for her to allow herself to feel what she felt for him, someone galaxies away, in such a different stratosphere that she could never dream of touching him. Not in a real way. Not in the way she’d always dreamed. “No payment, of any kind, from any Romanovsky. I wouldn’t dream of it.” She made a face. When had she started talking like an 1800’s debutante? She motioned to the door of her office, hoping he’d take the hint and leave before she made an even bigger fool of herself.
“I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
After a moments hesitation, he finally returned the card to his wallet and moved towards the door. She followed him, taking the door in her hand as he stepped out, not even making eye contact with him as she closed it shut behind him.
For the first time that day, Angie understood why he’d been so bothered by her sneaking out.
On his way out of her office, he didn’t look back. He didn’t even say goodbye.
Perhaps he was trying to give her a taste of her own medicine.
She certainly tasted it, and it was bitter as hell.
6
“I asked you both to come to lunch with me for a reason.” Zoey smile was brighter than the sun beaming against the outdoor table they sat at the next morning. It was mid afternoon, most working people had just come back from lunch, so the streets of Tribeca were quiet. She leaned in, eyes jumping back and forth between Gary and Angie, both of whom were working way too hard to pretend the other didn’t exist. “As you both know, Val and I are getting married.”
Angie smiled, and Gary raised an eyebrow.
Whether that eyebrow signaled boredom or disgust, Zoey wasn’t sure. She assumed it was probably a combination of the two, with a hint of annoyance thrown in for good measure.
“The two of you are the most important people in the world to me.” Zoey reached across the table to cover both of their hands with hers, and didn’t miss the way the action sent Gary’s eyebrow soaring even higher. His lively green eyes grew ripe with pained distress, the way they always did whenever Zoey reminded him that she and Val were not only getting married, but having a baby. “And I want you to be in the wedding, standing on my side. Team Zoey.”
“There are teams?” Angie asked.
“Val’s brothers are my brothers, and a lot of his friends are my friends, too, so yes… planning this wedding has spiraled into a bit of a competition. But the two of you had better be standing on my side of the pew if you ever plan on seeing or speaking to me, again.”
“Obviously we’re on your side, even though it’s ridiculous that there are even sides in the first place,” Angie said.
Zoey smiled. “I want you both to be my maids of honor. Because you both mean the world to me.”
“I’m a man,” Gary said.
“Really?” Angie feigned shock as she looked at Gary for the first time that afternoon. When he matched her gaze, she smacked her lips. “I hadn’t noticed, Gary.”
“I hate you. I hate your whole face,” Gary said to her, his own face collapsing with distain.
“Hey, focus!” Zoey beamed. “I have a wedding that I have to plan before this kid inside me makes me too fat to do it gracefully, and I can’t waste time playing referee between the two of you. Now… I can only have one maid of honor… or one man of honor…” Zoey smiled back and forth between the two of them. “And I can’t make the decision. So I’ve decided we’re going to flip a coin.”
“We’re going to flip a god damn coin?” Gary shook his head. “Zoey, you love me more. I know it. You know it. Colt knows it. Why are you trying to spare anyone’s feelings here? Just make me your man of honor and let’s call it a day. I’m late for work.”
“As if you do any actual work at Novsky,” Angie grumbled, laughing to herself.
Zoey fished a quarter out of her pocket and held it out between them. “Heads or tails, Ang?”
Angie took a deep breath, and shrugged. “Tails.”
***
Later that night, Angie and Zoey found themselves in a rundown bodega on Chambers Street, perusing the liquor isle for virgin margarita mix after realizing that Val’s apartment was teeming with nothing but guacamole and bourbon. Val was out of town on business, so after losing the coin toss earlier that afternoon, Zoey had invited Angie over for a girl’s night consolation prize. It was the first girls night they’d had in ages. Instead of painting the town, they’d settled on virgin margaritas, popcorn, and Netflix. The scenery didn’t matter to them much, anyway, and odds were high they wouldn’t make it a quarter of the way through whatever Netflix movie they chose without getting distracted.
They just wanted time with each other.
“Are you okay?” Zoey asked suspiciously, shooting a look at Angie over her shoulder as they perused the isles in search of virgin margarita mix.
Annoyingly, the horrific streetlight footage was the first image that popped into Angie’s head upon being asked that question, the same way it had the twenty other times Zoey had asked her. As if that weren’t traumatizing enough, the bizarre encounter in her office with Roman came right on it’s heels. The truth was, Angie wasn’t okay. In fact, she was deeply bothered in about a hundred different ways, but she was trying to just forget about it and have a good time.
“I’m fine, Zoey, but if you ask me that question again, I’ll find a way to make you regret it.”
“How dare you speak to me like that? I’m with child.”
“Oh please. Don’t try to pull that delicate pregnant flower bullshit on me. I know you too well.”
Zoey lit up, appearing deeply satisfied with that response. “You just seem a little… distracted. This is our girl’s night out. We never get to have these, anymore. So I need all of the attention on me at all times. All eyes on me.”
Angie chortled. “You’re going to be such a crazy pregnant lady. Wait, stop. I found the virgin mix.” She pointed towards a tiny display in the farthest corner of the shelves.
Zoey made a disgusted noise.
“Deal with it, you’re pregnant,” Angie beamed. “And, no, red and white wine are not acceptable for you to drink, I don’t care what Google tells you. Now get your ass over here.”
Zoey moved towards Angie slovenly, watching as she plopped a few dozen packets of the mix in the green shopping basket swinging from her arm.
“It’s not just Google that says wine is okay. Cosmo magazine said it’s okay, too.”
“Well if Cosmo said it, it must be true!” Angie looked at her friend in disbelief.
Zoey scoffed. “You don’t know everything, Colt.” She rolled her eyes the moment she said the words, because she knew they were a damn lie.
“There is no amount of alcohol proven to be safe for the baby. God forbid your enzyme levels are low, then the alcohol could circulate in your body for hours, getting that innocent baby in your belly good and drunk in the process.”
“Fine,” Zoey cried, unable to hear anymore. “I can’t believe I’m shopping for virgin anything,” she grumbled, following slowly behind Angie as she moved down the isle. “And I’d really love to know, who’s the asshole trying to convince the world that being pregnant is some beautiful, wonderful experience? Severely depressing is what it is.”
Hardly listening to her emotionally volatile f
riend, Angie whooped when she spotted one last bottle of her favorite lime juice hidden at the back of the shelves. She swiped it and held it up for Zoey to see.
“I’m overflowing with excitement,” Zoey said, dryly, unable to stop a small smile from splitting her lips as Angie tossed it into the basket with a laugh. “That better be a 120-proof bottle of lime juice. Don’t waste my time, bitch.”
Angie laughed, taking the basket from Zoey. “Let me take that for you, I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself, Mommy.”
“For god sakes, I’m going to be somebody’s mommy.”
“How many times a day do you have that startling revelation?”
“Only a couple hundred, on a good day.”
Angie gripped Zoey’s arm tighter, guiding her.
“Don’t you want anything?” Zoey asked, when Angie began making her way towards the register.
Angie shook her head. “No, I’m good with the virgin margaritas.”
Zoey gave her a side eye. “You’re sweet, Angie, but you don’t have to do this. No need for both of us to be sober on a count of this selfish little punk rolling around in my stomach.”
“Don’t call the baby a punk,” Angie said as they moved in and out of the isles, throwing random snacks and knick-knacks in as they went. “Being pregnant is a beautiful, wonderful experience…” Angie’s words slowed to a stop when she looked up and locked eyes with a tall, dark skinned man hesitating at the door of the bodega. The first thought that crossed her mind when she caught sight of the handsome stranger was hot damn, but upon further inspection, she realized she recognized that handsome stranger.
And there was nothing exciting about it.
She immediately turned her back to him, and was surprised to find Zoey looking at him with much the same expression.
“Oh my god, it’s Reggie King,” Zoey whispered, her eyes going wide over Angie’s shoulder.
“How do you know Reggie King?” Angie asked, through clenched teeth.
Zoey’s eyes remained riveted to Reggie, grumbling back. “How do you know Reggie King?”
“He’s one of my most pain in the ass clients. Being around him is like having several teeth pulled, but I have to tolerate him because he brings me a lot of business.”
“Well he’s an old fuck buddy of mine, and I’ve been avoiding him and his phone calls since the moment I got knocked up with Val’s baby. So, I win.” Zoey suddenly stiffened. “Holy fuck, he’s coming over, he’s coming over, be cool.”
“Take your own advice, dude,” Angie said, turning back to Reggie and plastering a smile on her face. “Reggie King,” she nodded.
“Hello Angie. Zoey.” Reggie smiled that perfect, blinding smile of his as he came to a stop in front of them. His eyes danced between them. “Fancy meeting the two of you here.”
Angie nearly scoffed. Who talked like that? From the corner of her eye, she saw Zoey fiddling with her hair, and rolled her eyes.
A long moment of uncomfortable silence passed. Just when Angie thought Reggie was going to find some way to say goodbye, and extract himself from this awkward situation, he looked to her instead. “I’m actually happy to see you here, Angelica.”
Angie and Zoey both spoke at once.
“You are?” they beamed simultaneously.
Reggie’s eyes went to Zoey, and a knowing smile crossed his face before he looked back to Angie. “I hate to be so rude, but… can I speak to you privately, for a moment?”
Angie pointed a finger to her chest, looked at Zoey, then back to Reggie. “Me? Yeah, of course.”
As Reggie turned away from her and made his way to the door, Angie slowly followed, giving Zoey a look over her shoulder.
“Are you fucking him?” Zoey mouthed.
Angie’s face fell. “What? No! And you’re getting married, what do you care?”
Zoey curled her lip, looking to the door as Reggie opened it and held it. He watched Angie patiently.
The girls shared one final look before Angie moved to the door, stepping awkwardly out.
***
“So… what’s up?” Angie immediately crossed her arms over her chest as she stepped out into the frigid winter air, meeting Reggie’s eyes.
“Listen, Angelica, I realize it’s freezing out here… and you’ve surely got plans for the night, but… I have to be frank.”
Angie nodded. “Okay.”
“I happened to be in Washington Heights the other day, and I saw you outside of your office with Roman Romanovsky.”
Angie nodded. “Yes.”
Reggie’s eyes jumped back and forth between hers. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but was choosing his words very carefully.
Angie waited for as long as she could bear. “Why are you telling me this?”
Reggie smiled. “I’m sorry, it just occurred to me that this is going to get uncomfortable. Apart of me is wishing I’d brought this up in a more professional environment, and not a run down bodega on Chambers Street.”
Angie shook her head again. “Reggie, I’m lost.”
“I’m very curious why you’ve taken him on as a client.”
“Well as my former client, Reggie, I’m sure you know better than anyone that I can’t answer that question.”
“Ah…” Reggie looked off, nodding his head slowly. When he looked back, his eyes had changed. “He works for a company that’s my direct competitor. Considering the information you have on both me and my company, I’m sure you can understand what a conflict of interest it is for you to be working for him, in any capacity.”
“If I subscribed to that limited way of thinking, I would never get any work. This is New York City. Everyone is in competition with everyone else, in some way or another. I didn’t start my business to make friends, I started it to make money. Now I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable with the fact that I’m working with a Romanovsky, but I can assure you that any work I’ve done for you is secure, and you can put your complete trust in my discretion.” Angie’s eyes searched his face, and she saw she was losing him. Reggie King had brought her a lot of work in the past few years, and he was one of her biggest money-makers. He liked to have people followed, usually low level politicians, and he was very impatient. He was also arrogant, bullheaded, and difficult to work with, but she couldn’t deny that losing him would mean taking a hit to her business. “What I can tell you is that my business with Roman has nothing to do with Novsky. Or Zillow.” She saw Reggie’s eyebrows raise at the mention of his company, Zillow, and it’s direct competitor, Novsky, a real estate company the Romanovsky brothers had built from the ground up years earlier. She saw it in Reggie’s eyes how much this battle really meant to him. Of course it did. It was a battle he’d been entrenched in for years. “Roman sought me out for personal reasons. Not business reasons. It has nothing to do with Novsky or Zillow. And that’s really all I can say.”
“Hm.” Reggie continued to look off, nodding.
Angie watched him. He wasn’t speaking, but she could sense the wheels spinning in his head. She’d been confident that her reassurance would calm his nerves, but clearly it hadn’t.
“Who is he looking for?” Reggie asked, finally meeting her eyes once more.
Angie’s eyebrows shot up. She didn’t recall telling Reggie that Roman was looking for anyone. People came to her for a variety of different reasons, finding people, finding information, finding the truth. The fact that Reggie had zeroed in on the idea that Roman was looking for a person hit a little too close to the nail for her comfort. And it set off alarm bells in her head, the kind she couldn’t ignore. “I’m afraid that’s confidential, Reggie, and I can’t discuss it any further. If you’d like to do any of your own business with me in the future, you have my number. Now, I apologize, but Zoey is waiting for me. Have a good night…” She tried to step past him, and was surprised when he took her arm in his hand before she could. Looking down at his hand, she was launched back to the bizarre day in Val’s apartment. Val had grabbed her arm
in much the same way, the same feeling that coursed through her and, when she looked up at Reggie, she was surprised to see nearly the exact same look in his eyes.
“What was that insipid motto you always had hanging down from your office door?” he asked, craning his head to the side as he looked down at her. “Tread lightly?”
Angie snatched her arm from his grip, a scowl crossing her face. “On second thought, Reggie… don’t call me.” It hurt her to say the words. Reggie really was one of her biggest moneymakers. She could feel the loss already, but frankly, at the moment, he was freaking her the hell out. “Good night.”
She stepped away from him and made her way back into the bodega.
She didn’t look back.
But she knew he was watching.
***
Angie was distracted the next day as she made the short walk from her apartment to her office. She and Zoey had spent the entire night in drunken laughter, entrenched in a Netflix marathon, talking shit and just enjoying their much needed girl time. Angie hadn’t told Zoey the truth about the exchange she’d had with Reggie outside of the bodega, and she was able to hide just how much it had shaken her.
The unease had stayed with her.
She’d woken up with it racing through her veins.
Reggie was the son of the Governor of New Jersey. Privileged and powerful by default. From the day he was born. He was a man who knew his power, and he wasn’t afraid to use it to intimidate anyone who got in his way. Angie, unfortunately, had been forced to bear the brunt of his controlling tendencies the night before.
She just didn’t know why.
Why did Reggie have a problem with the fact that she was working for Roman? So much of a problem, in fact, that he’d all but threatened her.
Her breath was stolen from her lungs. He hadn’t actually threatened her. Not really.
But Angie was no fool.
Reggie didn’t just inherit power and privilege from his important father. He’d also inherited the gift of subtlety. Of saying something, loud and clear, without actually saying it. Striking fear in people’s hearts, but somehow managing to keep his hands squeaky clean in the process.
Claiming Roman Page 9
