by Sonia Hartl
“A little bit.” He shot me a cocky grin that made my blood boil.
Lifting my chin, I mustered as much dignity as the situation allowed. I wrapped the blanket around my waist and stood. I had to squeeze past him, and he didn’t even do that fake lean where you look like you’re trying to get out of someone’s way while not really moving at all.
“First door on the left down the hall,” he called.
I made quick work of changing his T-shirt for my sweater-dress, and I definitely didn’t linger over the way his rain and moonlight smell clung to the fabric. To add insult to injury, he’d also washed the lace thong he’d removed from me the night of our disastrous meeting. My dress didn’t have any pockets, because it had clearly been designed by a man who hated women, so I had no choice but to put them on over my other underwear. I’d die a thousand deaths before I walked out of the bathroom holding them in my hand.
After rummaging around in his drawers, I found a tube of toothpaste and finger-brushed my teeth. My mascara had smeared beneath my eyes in my sleep, and my hair hung in tangled knots, one of which was crunchy with dry vomit. Awesome.
After I tilted my head under the faucet to wash out the remaining puke, I took advantage of my location to snoop. The vanity drawers held his shaving kit and some washcloths. White, of course. I opened his medicine cabinet and found only Tylenol and allergy pills. What a disappointment. I’d been hoping for Rogaine or Viagra or something equally embarrassing, but at least I didn’t find a collection of serial-killer trophy teeth, so I’d probably live through this.
No tampons or an extra toothbrush or any of the other telltale signs of a woman spending a fair amount of time here. It annoyed me that I was relieved.
“If you’re done going through my stuff, I brewed you a cup of coffee,” Mark called from the kitchen.
“You wish I was going through your stuff,” I yelled back as I peeked under the vanity sink. Nothing but a refill bottle of hand soap and a can of Ajax. Perfectly normal. Damn it.
I smoothed out my hair as best as I could, though it was a lost cause, and exited the bathroom. I perched on one of the white leather stools tucked under his kitchen counter. A steaming mug of coffee sat in front of me, and I breathed in the nectar of the gods. With one sip, the pressure behind my eyes loosened.
Mark stood on the other side of the counter in the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest. He still hadn’t put on a shirt. “Find anything of interest in my medicine cabinet?”
“No. I’m just going to assume you keep your collection of anal beads and fingernail clippings in your room.”
He threw back his head and laughed. The warm, rich sound traveled down to my toes. “You have a lot of nerve, I’ll give you that.”
“Can you blame me?” I glanced at the living room over my shoulder. “I mean, what’s with all the white? Does it make it easier for you to locate the blood splatters?”
He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I just moved in last month and I’m having issues with the storage facility currently holding a good portion of my things hostage.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” I took another sip of coffee as I tried to gather my courage. “So… about last night. I don’t know how I ended up here, but it’s probably my fault.”
His lips quirked with amusement. “Probably?”
“Fine. It’s very much my fault. But it’s also at least half your fault.”
“How is it half my fault that you showed up at my door, drunk out of your mind? I’m pretty sure it’s one hundred percent your fault and I’m the injured party here.” He pointed at his bare chest, which only drew my eyes to the hard sculpting of muscle I’d been doing a decent job of ignoring. “In more ways than one.”
“What do you want? An apology?”
“That would be a good start.”
“Well, too bad.” I was being childish and, admittedly, a giant ass. I wasn’t pleased about him working at H4H, but causing a drunken scene and throwing up in his apartment wasn’t the most mature way to handle things. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to say I was sorry. I’d promised myself I’d never apologize to another man after I spent the better part of three years groveling for Aiden. “You’re not going to get one.”
He shook his head. “Why am I not surprised? When it comes to doing the right thing, I should’ve known you wouldn’t be capable of even the bare minimum.”
That tone. My headache came roaring back full force. “Spare me your moral high ground. Yeah, I was paid by someone who hates your guts to break your ego, but have you forgotten you just got hired to do the exact same thing?”
“Believe me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget finding out why you ran out on me.” His eyes burned with a temper that matched my own. “I’ll admit, you excel at your act. A-plus bullshitting.”
“Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. “Like you’re any better than me. I actually believed you were passionate about your career, but I guess you’d rather roll around in the mud with the rest of us bullshitters.”
He rested his arms on the counter across from me. “I am passionate about my career, but adjunct spots are cutthroat. They expect us to write articles, create exams and submit them for approval, hold office hours, and all the other things professors do, on part-time pay. They gave a promotion to someone who published a well-received paper on modern dating rituals. Eerily similar to the one I’d been working on for months, using all of my data. I’m assuming the same person who hired you. Still think you don’t owe me an apology?”
Shit. I knew there had been something off about Selena. That nagging feeling I’d had the other day, the questions around whether or not we were really doing the right thing, began to tap at the back of my mind again. Still, he could hardly blame me for her actions. “It sucks you’re having issues with UoC, but that’s academics. And it’s even less my fault than the other stuff you want me to be sorry for.”
“You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?”
“And you’re not any closer to getting that apology you seem to want so badly.”
His pupils dilated as his gaze skimmed my lips. “You have no idea how badly I want it.”
I shifted on the stool, suddenly very aware of the heat at my core. A slow smile spread over his lips, and he took a step back. I’d fallen right into his sexy fuck-me trap like a goddamned amateur. I did this shit for a living. I wasn’t about to be schooled by my subordinate.
I sauntered around the counter to the kitchen. He stood stock-still as I approached him and walked my fingers up his chest. I pushed up on my toes and got a rush from feeling his breath hitch as I whispered in his ear: “Guess you’ll have to tend bar now like everyone else who needs a second job in this city.”
He reeled back. “Why would I do that?”
“You can’t work at H4H.” I could feel my hysteria rising and couldn’t do anything to choke it down. “Our brief history aside, it’s a female-only business and should remain that way. Men already have so much power in the world. Why can’t you just leave this one corner alone? Why do you have to come in and take everything?”
“I’m not taking anything except a job that was offered. I’m sure you’re used to thinking the sun shines out of your ass and every slight is personal, but this isn’t about you.”
His steely gaze, the drip of condescension in his voice, brought on a painful flashback to the days when I’d been with Aiden, when he practically made a sport of chipping away at my confidence until I became a shell of a person. No matter how hard I’d tried to please him, it was never enough. He’d stepped on my fingers while I was crawling like a dog begging for his affection. I’d never go back to that again. I’d barely survived it the first time around.
Mark must’ve seen something in my expression, because he laid a hand on my shoulder. A jolt of electricity ran through me, making all my nerves tingle in the most traitorous way. I got a small amount of satisfaction from knowing I wasn’t the only one when he snatched his hand back and rubbed it on his s
leep pants.
“How did you end up at H4H anyway?” Of all the men in this city, Margo had hired this one. I was well past believing in things like fate and coincidence. There had to be a reason.
“I found your note card. The one you dropped the night you ran out of here. It had all kinds of interesting information about me. And for the record, I don’t live for bullet-point outlines, and my social media accounts are all private.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as my vision blurred around the edges. This couldn’t be true. There had to be another explanation. “You found the cheat sheet. And, what? Decided to use it as an employment opportunity?”
“I was a little freaked out when I found it. Even you have to admit I had every right to question what the hell had gone on that night. The ‘cheat sheet’ ”—he air-quoted—“as you call it, had a number on the bottom. I called and got Margo.”
“You told her I’d been in your apartment.” God. I could only imagine what she thought of me, going home with a target. It was like she’d taught me nothing over the years. Maybe she wanted me to train Mark to be my replacement when she fired me.
“Nope. I thought Margo was your mother and didn’t think that information would go over well.” He grimaced. “I asked her a bunch of questions, we got to talking about the business, and one thing led to another.”
My fault. It was my fault the guys had been brought on. And Margo knew. She knew he’d been my target, and she’d hired him anyway. This was what I got for giving her unquestioning support and loyalty.
“I’m done here.” I spun around and hurried for the front door, well aware that I’d just shown my hand and folded whatever game we’d been playing, but I couldn’t think in this apartment. It was too white, and there was too much Mark.
My purse and boots sat on a white bench by the door. The bench where Mark had hitched my skirt up to my waist and buried his face between my legs. My face flushed with the memory. The quicker I got out of here, the quicker I could stew in my mortification. I held the wall in his entryway, weaving on one leg while I tried to maneuver on my boots without sitting.
Mark joined me, glancing between me and the bench. He ran his thumb over his lower lip. “Leaving so soon?”
I flung open the door and stepped out of his apartment, but I couldn’t leave without making a parting shot. “If you don’t quit H4H, I’ll tell your bosses at UoC what you’re doing as a side gig. My mother is the queen bee of academic politics, and I know damn well how important appearances are.”
“No, you won’t. Because if you try to run me out of UoC, I’ll tell Margo I nearly had you screaming my name while I licked your pussy so good you were seeing stars.” He gave me a lazy grin. “See you on Friday, boss.”
And with that, he shut the door in my face.
CHAPTER 11
Margo owed me answers. I’d done everything she asked of me for two years straight. And then not only had she gone behind my back to hire men, but she’d gotten the idea from one of my targets. Was this some kind of sick punishment for asking for more autonomy? Did she really think she could treat me this way? I wouldn’t be pushed around. I wasn’t weak or helpless anymore, and Margo should’ve known better.
Before heading into the office, I needed to shower and change. I walked into my apartment to find that Winnie had clawed her way up the drapes again. She mewed pathetically while she hung on by her nails at the top of the window. I plucked her off and received a hiss for my trouble. Though if she’d given me any sort of affection, I might’ve thought she was dying.
My phone buzzed, and I dumped out the contents of my purse on the couch to search for it. After I plucked it from a small pile of receipts for way too many vodka cranberries and an order of fried pickles I had no recollection of eating, I answered.
“Hey, you.” Emma’s voice came through the line, along with a mix of city noises. She must’ve been up on her roof again, desperately trying to get the last rays of natural sun before the long winter washed her out. “Feeling like shit?”
She never got hangovers. I really should’ve hated her for it. I kicked off one of my ankle boots, and it hit the wall with a dull thud. “I just got home.”
“Shut the fuck up.” The sound of Emma’s sunglasses clinking against the concrete rang in my ear. “You went home with someone? Who?”
I rubbed the bridge between my eyes, the headache still hovering just there. “I ended up at Mark’s apartment.”
“B. No.” Disapproval coated her voice. “It was bad enough when he was a target, but now he’s the enemy. You’re Julia Roberts. You’re sleeping with the enemy.”
I had enough running through my mind with Margo’s betrayal, I didn’t need Emma’s lecture on top of it. “First of all, I don’t know how I got to his apartment. And we didn’t sleep together. I woke up on his couch, we got in an argument, and I left.”
Which made it the second time Mark had gotten the upper hand. What was it with this guy? I wasn’t perfect, far from it, but I kept it together okay. I went to work, paid my bills, didn’t go looking for trouble or bad relationships. I flossed. But the minute I got within radius of Mark, I boarded the Hot Mess Express and couldn’t seem to get off this train. I became the kind of woman who had to walk home wearing two pairs of underwear.
“I’m just looking out for you,” Emma said. “That’s what we do, right?”
“I know.” Even if Emma’s lectures occasionally annoyed me, it was only because the two of us looked out for each other when no one else did. “Anyway, listen to this.…”
I explained how the men had come to be at H4H, and Emma immediately offered to go to Margo’s office with me, even though we had a rare day off. As much as I loved Emma, she’d probably make a big dramatic scene. I needed to proceed with caution.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Emma asked. “I have a few choice words for Margo myself. How could she set you up like that?”
“I can handle her.” I paused. “Plus, I’m not going straight home from the office. I thought I’d check out some rental space in River North for my gallery while I have the time.”
“Have fun,” Emma said before letting me go. She used to come with me on my gallery hunts, but when I never made a down payment, or even looked into funding, she began to lose interest. She appreciated my art. She just didn’t believe I’d ever put the money down and make it a reality. Most days, I didn’t believe it either. But I still put money away, telling myself—always telling myself—just a few more months.
After I showered and changed into leggings and an oversize sweater, I took an Uber to H4H. I’d thought about putting on a power suit, the type I reserved for lunches with my mom, but Margo would see right through that. I wanted to appear calm. Casual. As if I’d just dropped by to pick up some info on my latest assignment. If I could catch her off guard, she might be more likely to spill her reasoning behind this new transition.
Margo looked up as I entered her office. “I thought I told you girls to take the day off.”
She looked so composed in her puffy pink office, so harmless, that for a moment I wondered if Mark had lied to me about how he’d gotten hired at H4H. “I had to grab a file.”
“I’m so glad. Please, have a seat.” Margo immediately plugged in her electric kettle.
Tea was so much a part of her aesthetic, it had become a comfort to me as well. I’d recently gotten my own kettle and was experimenting with bagless teas. I still preferred coffee while painting though. As she set up her box of various teas, I plucked at a loose thread on my sweater, crossed and uncrossed my legs, and shifted in my seat.
“You seem nervous.” Margo passed me a cup of hot water and a green tea bag. “Is there another reason why you came by the office today?”
The glint in her amber eyes threw off my plan to approach the subject delicately. She already knew that I knew. “I wanted to ask about the men. How you came to hire Mark specifically, when he’d been one of my targets.”
“I wondered when you’d get around to admitting you already knew Markus.” Margo leaned back, her expression reminiscent of a cat who’d finally trapped a tricky mouse. “So unlike you to lose one of your cheat sheets like that.”
What did she expect me to say? I certainly wouldn’t be telling her anything about the night I’d been paid to embarrass Mark. “It was an accident.”
“I’m sure.” The look she gave me suggested otherwise.
Before she could corner me into admitting anything, I deployed a guilt tactic I’d learned from the best. “How could you let him convince you to hire men? You let a man make new rules without even consulting us. How do you think that makes us feel?”
Margo’s eyes hardened, even as they widened in concern. “I didn’t let the men make rules, and I think bringing them in will be good for all of you.”
“You keep saying that, but you won’t say how. You just expect us to go along with it.” Exactly what I’d been doing for two years. Even when I’d been given autonomy over my own clients after repeatedly asking, Margo had still found a way to pull the strings.
“I think it’s time for you girls to get accustomed to working with men again. You can’t do this job forever, and eventually you’ll all want to date again, have normal lives. This is my way of easing you into it, while still making sure you hold the power.”
I shook my head, wanting to deny what she said, but at the same time wanting so badly to believe it. Fear and resentment had ruled my life for so long now, I hardly knew who I was without them. Yet I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find out.
“Didn’t I ask you to take a chance and trust me two years ago?” She reached across her desk to pat my arm. “I’m asking the same of you now.”
“I’m trying, but it feels like you’re going against everything you told us to believe.”
She grasped my chin, turning my face from side to side as she tsked. “You’re so pretty. Men love to take advantage of a pretty face, but you already know this. Look at what Aiden did to you. If you don’t learn how to exert power over men on a professional level, you will always be a silly, pretty little toy. This is making you stronger. Don’t forget, unlike the other people who have let you down in the past, I’m always thinking of you.”
