"Reese says you underestimate yourself and give everyone else the credit even when it's you who really made your company profitable."
I stare at her. Reese said that? I love my brother, but he's normally sarcastic and never says anything like that to me. The closest he ever came to giving me a compliment was when he slapped me on the shoulder and said with a smile, "Well, congrats on not cocking it up." That had been on the day I sold my ten thousandth device.
But he's told Rika I underestimate myself. I have no idea what to make of that.
"In those wedding videos," Rika says, "you were laughing and grinning. You even made a toast in which you said lots of words without a hiccup. So I know you can be well-spoken and charming. I don't buy that the only reason you don't want a real girlfriend is because you're too busy."
Should I tell her the actual reason? It's not a complete lie that I don't have time, but mostly, I got so bloody sick of women telling me I'm boring compared to my devices. The last girl who said that was not the first to criticize my bedroom skills. I couldn't stand it if Rika reached the same conclusion about me. Why can't you be as exciting as your toys?
"Maybe there is another reason," I say, "but we don't know each other well enough to talk about that."
"Okay, you're probably right." She consumes a bite of sesame chicken, eying me with curiosity. "It can't be a problem in bed. You're way too hot for that, a fact I can attest to since we've kissed twice."
She'll probably change her mind about that if we ever do have sex. Which is why we won't. Not ever.
We eat our dinner and talk about inconsequential things, like Rika's favorite places in New York and what Eddie Masters' house looks like. She describes his video recording studio in great detail. She's clearly excited about her new job and enjoying the challenges of working for a fitness guru.
I work out, but not as much as I'm sure Eddie Masters does. I've never seen the man, much less spoken to him, but I can tell Rika thinks he's impressive. Especially when she says those exact words right after I've thought them.
"Eddie is one impressive guy," she announces. "An entrepreneur who turned his life's passion into a successful brand." She pokes my chest with her finger. "Just like you."
"I don't have a brand yet. Celeste explained to me how a brand is different from a line of products, but I honestly can't remember half of what she said. It's all too bloody complicated." I grumble and, I suspect, make a petulant face. I don't mean to, but this re-launch and branding rubbish makes me feel like a child being led around by his mother. "Apparently, a brand involves my face on the sodding package."
"Celeste will give up on that idea, trust me."
"What makes you think that?"
"She's a good person, but sometimes she goes overboard. I've gotten to know her over the past six months, since I became good friends with her granddaughter. Eventually, Celeste will realize she needs to give you some space."
I hope she realizes that soon. Tonight would be brilliant, but I'll have to wait until Monday to find out if she's seen reason yet.
"I like Celeste," I say. "But you're right. She can be a bit too...enthusiastic."
"You mean bossy. Go on, you can say it." Rika leans toward me, her face so close to mine that I can feel her breaths tickling my skin. "Celeste Arnaud is a bossy, bossy woman. Repeat it with me. Celeste is---"
"Why would I want to repeat that? You're being ridiculous."
"Maybe. But you need some serious stress relief. Why not spend the weekend at a spa?"
"A spa? Only if you come along to help me relax."
The second those words come out of my mouth I know I've made the biggest blunder yet.
"Sorry," I rush to say. "I didn't mean---That wasn't---Ah, bollocks."
Rika smiles, like she doesn't mind my faltering speech. "Don't panic. I know you weren't suggesting we go to a spa together for a weekend of Reiki and hot sex."
I stare at her for several seconds, and my eyes start to burn because I've stopped blinking. She can't mean she wants to... No, she's making a joke. Because, obviously, the idea of her sleeping with me is ludicrous.
She pats my chest and leans back. "How about dessert?"
"I didn't think to buy dessert. Sorry."
"That's okay." Her mouth opens on a big yawn. "I've got some Oreo truffles in the freezer."
She starts to get up.
I hold up my hand to stop her. "Let me get it. I think I can manage to find the Oreo truffles on my own. I imagine they're round?"
"Yes. Round, white balls with chocolate streaks on them. They're in a plastic bag. I made them myself. The insides are full of crushed chocolate chips and white chocolate, mixed with cream cheese. Totally decadent and delicious." She licks her lips. "I love feeling those big, succulent balls in my mouth. Mm-mm-mmmmm."
"All right. I'll find them." I hurry into the kitchen because her description of how good those truffles are has roused my cock. Why on earth would she describe candy as "big, succulent balls" that she loves to feel in her mouth? Is she trying to drive me insane?
I rummage in the freezer until I find the large, plastic bag full of big, white balls. My balls will be blue in thirty seconds flat if Rika describes these truffles to me again.
After dumping the truffles onto a plate, I go back into the living room. I've just sat down on the sofa again, and I'm about to speak, when I notice her eyes are closed. She still sits sideways on the sofa, angled toward me, but her cheek rests on the back. Her breathing has become even and shallower.
Rika is asleep.
I pop a truffle into my mouth and chew it. The flavors of the semisweet chips and white chocolate merge on my tongue, and the cream cheese makes the truffle, well, creamy. It tastes delicious, like Rika said it would.
After returning the truffles to the freezer, I hunt around until I find a fleece throw, then I lay it over Rika's shoulders. She looks so beautiful sleeping, her mouth curved into the faintest smile, her face and body completely relaxed. I envy her for that. When was the last time I felt at peace? Or took a day off? I can't have a spa day or do anything else that might in the slightest resemble relaxation.
I'm too fucking busy.
Chapter Nine
Rika
I wake up after midnight and realize I'm still on the sofa, but someone has put a blanket over me. Though the floor lamp is still on, I don't see Dane anywhere. Rubbing my eyes, I yawn and sit up, looking around like I think Dane will be waiting in the armchair or something. Of course he's not. I fell asleep, so he left.
But I see a piece of folded paper that stands upright on the coffee table like a little tent. My name is written on the paper in Dane's handwriting.
Yes, I recognize his handwriting. Though I only worked for him for a few weeks, I memorized a lot of things about him. He has elegant, crisp penmanship. I envy him that because my cursive absolutely sucks.