“Coked-up pop princess?” I ask.
The smile falls from his face. “That was a long time ago.”
“Months,” agrees Matías.
“Years.”
“Years is plural.”
“Fine. More than a year ago, then.” Beck frowns. “Don’t make me look bad in front of my girl, you asshole.”
Matías just laughs.
“Speaking of dubious things best not mentioned, what are you and Emma fighting over this week?”
“A soup tureen.”
The elevator doors slide open and we head for home. Or at least, home for now. Who knows, once Ethan reports back about my latest disgrace I might be run out of town by Olson company employees carrying pitchforks. And Grandma & Co. will certainly not be impressed. God, this situation is complicated. Usually if someone’s family doesn’t like you there’s little risk of it leading to all out corporate war.
How and when did my life get this interesting?
Beck opens the apartment’s front door, holding it for us to go ahead. The view with the sun setting over LoDo is spectacular. Maybe tonight we’ll get to use the hot tub. I head straight for the couch and take off my shoes and the little sock things. I arch my feet and stretch my toes. Oh, heaven is having bare feet after a long day. If such behavior is uncouth and Elliots aren’t supposed to be seen barefoot in their own damn apartments then I definitely don’t want to be one. Beck and I can just live in sin forever and ever amen.
“Matías, and I ask this respectfully as a friend, why in the ever-loving fuck would you want a soup tureen?” asks Beck, grabbing craft beers out of the fridge and passing them around.
“It’s antique, silver, worth quite a bit.”
“And yet it is still a soup tureen.”
Matías makes himself at home, man-spreading on the opposite couch. “Told Emma I might use it for ice and beer at barbecues or just put it in the laundry for all those single socks you can never find a match for. She almost went into apoplexy. It was hilarious.”
“How large are your legal bills, just out of curiosity?”
“We don’t use the divorce lawyers for this sort of small stuff anymore,” says Matías. “Having to send messages through them about every little thing sucked all of the fun out of it. We both prefer the direct approach.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but are divorces meant to be fun?” I ask.
“He and Emma are having the time of their lives, apparently.” Beck sits beside me, sliding an arm around my shoulders. His fingers play with my ponytail. “Don’t feel bad. No one understands.”
“You only get to divorce someone once,” says Matías with all due seriousness. “We want to make sure we do it right.”
I nod as if I understand. “Okay.”
“Someday, if you two decide to get married, you’ll understand.”
“Of course, you could always go back to couples counseling,” suggests Beck.
Matías screws up his face in disbelief. “Our divorce negotiations just hit their second year. You can hardly expect us to start acting like adults now.”
Beck takes a swig of beer. “It’s good, by the way.”
“Told you,” says Matías. “They’re a great little microbrewery, but they need money to expand. Add some new lines, move into ciders as well, maybe.”
“And they’re solid?”
“The numbers add up. It’s a bit bigger than we normally go, but I like them.”
“You mentioned being business partners the other day?” I ask because, curiosity. The beer is more hoppy than I like, but it’s not bad.
“When I got access to my trust fund at twenty-five, Matías and I started The Crooked Company,” says Beck. “We do seed funding, specialize in helping small businesses. It’s our way of counteracting the damage large companies like Elliot Corp. do.”
“That sounds great.”
“It is.” The pride in Matías’s gaze is unmistakable. “We work with small-batch distilleries and ice-cream makers, a rare book shop, vintage record store, electric bikes, a lipstick company, organic butchers, slow fashion, artisan donuts, food trucks, a service to help you set up your own edible garden, several different apps, and all sorts of things.”
“With the added benefit that it annoyed the absolute crap out of Dad,” says Beck.
I smile. “I can’t imagine why with a name like The Crooked Company.”
Beck winks at me.
Matías sets his ankle on the opposite knee, crossing his legs in the way dudes do. There’s certainly no shortage of pretty men in bespoke suits in this part of town. If Emma did marry him for his looks, I can’t fault her taste. His dark eyes are nothing less than entrancing. “For a waste of time and money it sure is earning nice dividends.”
And they’re all such high achievers. Then there’s me, still not knowing what I’m doing with my life. Ethan might have had a point about my averageness. These people all have such purpose and drive. You can only float through life without a clue for so long. Right now, I’m not even earning an income and the idea of living off Beck does not appeal.
He clears his throat. “Beloved, did you happen by any chance to buy that chunk of rock sitting on the coffee table?”
“No.”
“Ah.”
“It’s clear crystal, quartz or something, isn’t it?” I ask.
Matías frowns at the thing. “Whatever it is, it’s bigger than my head.”
“Mother must have stopped by,” says Beck. “It’s probably to help protect us from bad vibes or something.”
I set my bottle down on the coffee table. “This is good, but if you don’t mind, I’m going to make myself a vodka and soda. Not really in the mood for beer.”
“This is your home now too.” Beck downs another mouthful. “You don’t need to ask me permission.”
“More than just a holiday, then?” asks the other man.
“Permanent, as far as I’m concerned,” says Beck. “But perhaps she needs persuading.”
“I’ve only been here for like forty-eight hours,” I intercede.
Beck’s silence speaks volumes. Underneath the hot and humorous exterior, he’s a man used to getting what he wants. Guess it comes with the money. And perhaps his disguised alpha dog tendencies. However, I have yet to meet an Elliot who doesn’t like control.
“Have a chance to look around yet, Alice?” asks Matías.
“I walked over to Larimer Square today. It was nice.”
Beck cocks his head. “You went out?”
“For a little while,” I answer.
“And Smith didn’t take you?”
“It’s only a couple of blocks.”
“Yeah, but…”
Matías stares out at the view in silence.
“But what?” I asked.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I’m telling you now.”
This smile of Beck’s is one of the lesser seen ones. And it’s not the least bit genuine so it’s just as well. “Well, I like to know what you’re up to and I left instructions with the concierge. They were supposed to call Smith if you needed to go anywhere.”