“Because he was desperate. He goes through assistants like cups of coffee.”
I sat back in my chair. “Wow, thanks, Natalie.”
Our appetizers arrived and an awkward silence descended as the waitress needlessly described our food.
“I’m seeing my mom tomorrow,” I said, when the waitress had left, desperate to alleviate the tension.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Natalie said when we were once again alone. “You’re way too good for him. I just meant that . . . I’m sorry, I just—”
“It’s fine. It was a Hail Mary pass going for your job, but it paid off. I’m grateful he took a chance on me and I’m getting a lot more responsibility. I’m even going to a meeting on Monday. I’m enjoying it.”
I’d spent my life as the kid from the wrong side of the tracks, trying to do better for herself. Now I was actually doing better. Not many twenty-eight-year-olds were negotiating major deals on behalf of their boss.
“I’m pleased,” Natalie said, clearly not wanting to rock the boat.
“And I like him,” I said, feeling a little bit braver. “He’s got a good heart.”
Natalie swallowed her mouthful of Waldorf salad and looked me in the eye. “You like him?” She regarded me with the scrutiny of an NYPD detective sizing up a potential suspect.
“Yeah,” I said. “I really like him.”
She groaned like I’d just told her I was moving to Ohio. “You have a crush on him?”
“Of course I have a crush on him. He’s gorgeous.” That was no confession. Every straight woman who ever met Andrew was bound to have a crush on him, or at the very least, appreciate his body.
“Personality matters,” she replied.
“Like I said, I think I see him differently than you.” Andrew was irritating at work. The way he spoke to me—or didn’t—was annoying, but because I’d gotten to see him outside work, his at-work persona was more manageable. It wasn’t like we were discussing the meaning of life when we’d spent the evenings together, but it had shown me more of the man I worked for. He wasn’t just an asshole. He wasn’t even just an asshole with a tight butt. He was focused and driven and determined to get what he wanted. He was controlling and domineering and he fucked like an Olympic champion.
“Differently? That’s for sure. As long as you’re not sleeping with him, I don’t suppose it matters.”
I busied myself with my Caesar salad, ready to move on to something other than how much my best friend hated the man I was sleeping with.
When I looked up, Natalie was staring at me. “You’re not, are you?”
“Not what?”
“Sleeping with Andrew asshole Blake.”
Despite my convincing performance in front of Goode at lunch, I clearly didn’t have Natalie fooled.
“You’re sleeping with him?” she whisper-screeched. “Oh my god.” She made the sign of the cross and put her hands together in prayer. “Are you kidding me? Did he force you?”
I put down my fork. I’d lost my appetite. “Of course he didn’t force me.”
“Look, if you need money, I still have my savings. I can—”
The blood in my veins started to heat. “You think I’m sleeping with Andrew for money? What, I get fifty for a blow job and seventy-five for a fuck? What the hell, Natalie?” Jesus Christ, I’d worked really hard to put myself through college, but I’d never done anything like that. Why was prostitution the first place her mind went?
“I didn’t mean that. I just know how much you need to be in London and maybe you felt obligated—”
“Andrew and I met outside at a bar by accident. We got to talking. I made a move on him.” That wasn’t exactly true, but I probably would have, given enough time and Barolo. Lucky for me, when Andrew wanted something, or someone, he made his intentions abundantly clear. “He’s fucking phenomenal in bed. Our working relationship hasn’t changed at all. I haven’t gotten a pay raise. He’s still as rude as he always was at the office. And I don’t regret a single second. He’s hung like a horse and knows his way around a woman’s body like it’s his job.” I stood up and threw my napkin on the table. I was done with this conversation. I didn’t want to hear about how it was inappropriate or how I was going to get fired when Andrew was bored with me. I didn’t want to sit opposite my best friend while she judged my choices.
“I’m tired. I’m going back to the hotel.”
“Sofia!” Natalie called after me but I didn’t slow my pace to the exit. I didn’t want to listen to a single second of criticism from her.
She caught up with me just as I made it outside. “Come back,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I love you and I’m just trying to look out for you.”
I’m sure that’s how she saw it, but right then, all I could focus on was how she’d assumed sex with Andrew was some kind of gratitude payment. Sex with Andrew was anything but. It was sport, and a way to blow off some steam. It was fun. And it was more than all that. It was easy and intense and I never wanted it to stop.
My anger dissipated, dissolving as quickly as it appeared. “I need to go. I’ve had a long day.” Natalie and I had been friends a long time. We’d get through this. But right at that second, I needed some space.
“Seriously? I haven’t seen you for over a month and—”
“I’m here until Monday. Maybe we can catch up for a drink before I leave.” I glanced up and saw Andrew’s limo at the curb. Was he here? A smile started to nudge at the corners of my mouth. Had he been waiting for me?
“You never told me how things are going with Des.” I could see in her eyes that Natalie wanted to mend fences, but the fire in my veins needed more time to burn itself out before we could have a normal conversation.
“I have to go,” I said. I pressed a kiss to her cheek. When I stepped toward the car, the driver emerged and opened the passenger door. I dipped to see an empty back seat. Damn. Andrew was exactly the person I wanted to see right now.
As we pulled out into the familiar New York traffic, I leaned forward. “Do you know where Andrew is?”
“I’ve been parked outside the restaurant. He asked me to wait for you.”
Warmth swirled in my belly, and I pulled out my phone.
Twenty-Seven
Andrew
The bar Tristan had suggested was dark and gloomy—almost like someone had forgotten to pay the electricity bill. The hostess was painfully thin, dressed all in black with blood-red lipstick, her hair pulled back into a severe bun.
Had Tristan brought me to some kind of S&M club? It wouldn’t surprise me.
The hostess showed me to the table where Tristan was hunched over his laptop.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Couple of hours. I’m working on something. I knew I wanted to meet you, but if I started on this anywhere else, I would have lost track of time.”
Made sense. Tristan was like me in terms of his focus once he was in the zone. He was good at pretending he was a little all over the place, but nothing was further from the truth.