“I don’t have to,” said Cullen. “Everything to do with Addie goes through my private accounts. As for me, I don’t discuss Addie’s business.”
“Hmm.” Liam gave him a hard stare. “Sounds bulletproof.”
29
Sky
After hanging up the phone, I leaf through the three pages of notes Catherine had dictated to me when she asked me to cover her post for a few days. She truly is a one-man—er, woman—army when it comes to keeping Cullen’s admin in order and, though I’m technically doing her a favor, I’m absurdly keen on doing a good job.
Checking the time, I pull myself out of the velvety armchair—it constantly amazes me how much nicer this place is compared to my old flea trap—and eye the coffeemaker. Fifteen minutes before having to leave the apartment gives me just enough time for another cup. I’m just finishing pouring the black goodness into a mug when someone knocks on the door.
“Who is it?” I call.
“It’s me, Lar baby. Open the door.”
My hand jerks on my coffee cup, the hot liquid scalding my skin and staining the sleeve of my white blouse as I set the cup down on top of the shoe shelf and crack open the door without disengaging the chain. My chest is tight, my pulse jumping at the sight of jet-black hair, tight camo fatigues, and a familiar muscular physique. Our relationship had had its ups and downs from the beginning, but it ended with a bang after he’d cajoled me into going to one of the military parties during Manhattan’s Fleet Week. He’d promised me an opportunity for an exclusive story. Instead, he’d gotten drunk with his marine buddies, left me to the wolves, and then got me fired for trying to reveal the truth. “What are you doing here, Jaden?”
The man holds out a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia and two plastic spoons. “Can I come in?”
“I’m going to work.” I start pushing the door closed, but Jaden gets his boot-clad foot in the way.
“Then at least let me put the Cherry Garcia safely in the freezer. It’s innocent.” He gives me one of his patented Jaden grins, the one that used to lull me into just enjoying the moment. Or into forgiving him. Though, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why he’d even want to bother now. The engagement is done. We’re done. He taps the tough leather toe of his boot almost shyly against the floor. “Five minutes. I promise.”
I glance at the clock, doing quick mental gymnastics. I can’t wait the bastard out, and if I don’t let him in, he’ll just accost me in the hallway. At least this way, I’ll avoid a scene. “Five minutes.”
I open the chain and step aside as Jaden lets himself in, taking his shoes off without me having to ask. When he extends his arms toward me for an embrace, however, I step back and cross my arms. “What do you want?” I demand. “And how did you find me?”
Jaden holds up his hands, the pint of ice cream still in his large left paw. “No hugs. Message received and understood, ma’am.” Walking around me, he puts the ice cream in the freezer as if the place were his. “The how first—good old investigative journalism. Between seeing your name on the byline in Denton Uncovered and what your mother told me of your sugar daddy, it was easy enough. As for the why…” Jaden slips his hands into his pockets, his head and shoulders curling in a slight aww shucks motion. “I miss you. The break we took made me realize a few things. Among them, just how good I had it with you, baby.”
I pick up my coffee, my hands tightening around the cup, my heart still pounding in my ears. “First off, we didn’t take a break. We broke up after you decided that the reputation of your precious marine corps was more important than the truth. And second, I don’t have a sugar daddy.” I spit the last two words with venom built throughout the years of my childhood.
Genuine surprise flickers over Jaden’s face. “Come on, now, Lar. I might be a jerk, but I’m not an idiot.”
No. He isn’t. Jaden had always been attractive, with his tan skin and muscled shoulders, but it was his intelligence that had drawn me to him to begin with. Intelligence and a keen, instinctive knack for observation. For asking the right questions.
Jaden sprawls uninvited on my couch. “You’re telling me that your salary at Denton Uncovered pays enough to cover this three-thousand-dollar-a-month rent?”
I bristle. “Not that it’s any of your business,” I say, indignation gaining the better of me, “but I have two jobs. And I don’t pay three grand a month, because this place is rent controlled. Speaking of my jobs, I’ve got to get to one of them now. You’ve had your five minutes, Jaden. Are you going to keep your word and leave?”
Getting up, Jaden tugs down on his camo shirt to straighten it. It shows off his defined chest, but I’m no longer interested. “I’m out as promised.” Walking to the door, he grabs a card from his inside pocket and scribbles on the back of it. “Listen. I’m staying in Denton Valley for a week, covering the WorldROCK climbing competition since there’s a cash purse prize. Do me a favor—just think about things. Maybe come out with me to interview some climbers. It’s your thing more than mine anyway. Here’s my cell.” He holds out the card, which I make no move to take. Jaden sighs and sets it down on my little marble entry table.
“You know, if I were an investigative journalist worth my salt, I might check out whether Pine Towers even actually has rent control,” he adds, already halfway out the door. “I might also ask myself how much this furniture here might cost. Hell, if I were an investigative journalist, I might try to figure out who actually owns the apartment I live in and maybe I’d ask myself what’s in it for the owner to have me staying here for next to nothing. But that’s me. I work for the Manhattan Post, not Denton Uncovered.”
I wait until Jaden is out of my house before managing to uncurl my fingers from around my coffee mug, my hands shaking. The asshole. The absolute asshole. I’m not all that surprised that he found my address—he’s a journalist, and I’m not hiding—but the fact that he had the gall to show up here after what happened at Fleet Week? That’s low even by his standards.
Beep. Beep. BLEEEEEP.
The alarm on my phone scares me out of my skin. I curse. No matter how much my mind and pulse are currently whirling, I also need to get to work before I’m late. Focus now, Sky. Meltdown later.
First things first, I tell myself as I weave between a group of employees crossing the lobby and nod my hello to Rachel-the-perfect at reception—I’m not Cullen’s sugar baby. For one, I work for a living. For two, I’m not now nor would I ever be in my mom’s version of a relationship, making my life about some rich jerk’s fantasies. And for three, things between Cullen and me are…complicated.
Having not been back to the Trident Medical Group building since my interview, I’m taken in by its grandness all over again. The reflective exterior façade. The expansive airiness of the lobby inside with its marble columns and black tile floors and people moving all about. And yes, the giant mural of children’s handprints. The artwork reminds me that whatever else Cullen might be, he also has a kind enough heart to spend a certain portion of his funds on philanthropy. I step aboard the elevator heading for the seventh floor. Cullen’s floor. The fact that I’ll be working two doors down from Cullen all day doesn’t escape my notice either. That, or the other bit about him owning this whole place.