Mr. Big Shot (Suits & Sevens #1) - Isla Olsen Page 0,46

you.”

I feel my brows drawing together in confusion at the awkward, uncomfortable way he’s standing there. “Um, sure, okay.”

I gesture for him to come inside and lead him toward my apartment’s kitchen. “You want a beer?”

He nods, and I can’t help noticing the way his fingers are tapping against the counter. It’s something he does when he’s nervous.

I grab him a Corona from the fridge and snap the top off. “Lime?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“So what’s going on?” I grab a cutting board from one of the island drawers and retrieve a lime from the fruit bowl that’s sitting on the counter.

“It was me.”

“What was you?” I ask distractedly as I slice the lime.

“The tabloid story.”

I glance up sharply. “What? What are you talking about?”

Sullivan’s eyes widen. “Okay, maybe I should have told you to lose the knife first.”

I glance at my hand and realize I’m waving the sharp knife around. I carefully place it down on the cutting board and draw in a long breath before letting it out slowly. “What do you mean it was you? How?”

“I didn’t personally give the information to the site,” he says.

I roll my eyes. “Well I already knew that. What the fuck happened?”

Sullivan leans over the counter to grab his beer and a slice of lime. He stuffs the lime through the neck of the beer bottle and then takes a long sip. Finally, he glances up at me and says, “It was Andrew.”

“The guy you’re seeing?” I’ve only met the guy a handful of times but I always got the impression he was more interested in the expensive restaurants Sullivan could take him to and the exclusive events he had access to than in Sully himself.

“Was seeing,” Sully clarifies harshly, his jaw tight with obvious distress. He thrusts a hand through his hair before letting out a sigh and continuing with his explanation. “Last month we were having one of those conversations about exes and the stuff we’ve done and all that shit…”

“And you told him about me…”

Sully shakes his head regretfully and takes another sip of his beer. “I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have. I told him you weren’t out and were really private about things but I should have just kept quiet.”

I wave away his apology. “It’s fine.” It’s not like I expect everyone I’ve been with to sign NDAs or take magic mind-erasing pills or something. “But the tabloid knew I was involved with someone who works for me,” I say tentatively. “Did you tell him about Will?”

Sullivan shakes his head. “No, but I caught him with my phone a couple times. He must have seen some of our chats.”

I let out a heavy sigh, lifting a hand to rake through my hair. “Jesus, Sully. You caught him going through your phone and you didn’t think that was a red flag?”

“It was only a couple times and he always made a joke about how he’d gotten our phones mixed up or whatever.” He lifts his hands in a helpless gesture. “I just didn’t think to question it.”

I pin Sullivan with a forceful look. “You need to stop dating all these users, Sully. You’re so much better than that.”

“So I should just never trust anyone, ever?” he asks with a pointed arch of his brow.

His words hit me like punch straight to the gut and I throw my face in my hands, letting out an agonized groan. “I blamed Will. Oh my god, how the hell could I have blamed Will?” I drop my hands and glance desperately at Sullivan. “How is he ever going to forgive me?”

Sully offers a gentle smile. “Well, you could start by telling him you’re sorry.”

22

Will

* * *

I can’t help it. As much as I try not to let it, the moment I see Spencer standing there at the door of my apartment, my heart just burns with need for him. For the past five days I’ve been tamping it down as best I can; I’ve been telling myself what we had wasn’t really that special, I didn’t really fall for him. But obviously none of that’s worked. This is the first time I’ve seen him since that day, because I’ve been working for Emily this past week and as far as I know, Spencer’s hardly even been in the office.

He looks the least put together that I’ve ever seen him: there are gray circles under his eyes, his dark stubble is getting out of control, and the navy Henley he’s wearing is completely creased, as though