Betrayal (Infidelity Book 1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,72
question,” he said with a grin. “He didn’t find me. I found him.”
Patrick nodded. “It’s true. Found me and saved me from a five-hundred-square-foot studio apartment with a tiny Pullman kitchen.”
“Can you imagine?” Cy asked. “All this culinary talent going to waste like that?”
I sighed. “Gosh, Cy, you don’t have any friends who are looking for someone to save, do you?”
When he only grinned, I stupidly added, “I’d prefer if they were gay.”
Oh my God!
Although the apartment filled with the deep sound of Patrick and Cy’s laughter, I was mortified. I needed to cut back on the wine. It must have been the salad at lunch and all the exercise. This was my second glass. I needed some food.
Cy leaned against the counter and dipped a spoon in the thick white sauce. Blowing on the contents, he asked, “Man or woman?”
My cheeks must have filled with pink. “I think I was kidding.”
“If you weren’t,” Patrick asked.
I shrugged. “Well, I was thinking man. I mean, I can cook.” Patrick raised his brows my direction. “I can. It may not be like this, but I make a mean spaghetti sauce. And…” I looked down at the shorts and top I’d worn on our walk. “…I actually clean up pretty well. I could make a stellar arm ornament for business functions.” I thought of Nox’s description of women he’d dated. “And if there’s an illusion that’s trying to be perpetrated, I could do that too. If not, I’d be a great friend.”
“So you’re saying no sex?” Cy asked.
I squared my shoulders. “Am I giving you a résumé?”
“You asked if I had friends.”
“Well, I think maybe a blind date is the way to start that relationship, not, ‘Here’s my partner’s cousin. She’s down on her luck and needs a sugar daddy.’”
Shit!
“That’s not…” I tried to pry my foot from my mouth.
Cy laughed again. “Stop, you’re not telling me anything I don’t know. Look at Pat.”
I did and noticed the pink in his cheeks.
“He’s talented, intelligent, well-spoken, and incredibly handsome. I’m lucky to have him in my life.”
I took a deep breath and let it out. “Yes, I want what you have.”
“He’s also great in bed,” Cy added as his eyebrows wiggled.
Patrick and I both laughed.
“In that case,” I clarified, “your friend better be straight.”
“Man or—”
“Man,” I quickly replied.
After dinner as I helped Patrick with the dishes, Cy came into the kitchen.
“Alex, may I look at you?”
I took a step back. “Look at me?”
“Your hair. May I touch it?”
My eyes darted to Patrick, who nodded. “Um, all right.”
He walked behind me and pulled the tie from my hair. Then he fluffed it and arranged the auburn waves on my shoulders and back. Cy took a few steps, walking around me, circling me. He never took his eyes from mine. Next, he gathered my hair and piled it high on my head. “Do you wear much makeup?”
“I can but not usually.”
“Stanford?”
This was increasingly uncomfortable. “Yes.”
“With honors?”
“Summa cum laude.”
“Columbia Law?”
Patrick nodded.
“What are you two talking about?” I looked from one to the other. “You know I was joking, right?”
“Raised like me,” Patrick said.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Well-bred, manners, can handle yourself well in most situations,” Cy said.
I shook my head. “Most, but right now I’m feeling uncomfortable.”
Cy handed me my hair tie and turned to Patrick. “If you trust her, give her the elevator pitch. If she’s interested, call Andrew and get her an appointment for the morning. I’ll arrange for an afternoon interview.”
My eyes widened. “Pat, what the hell are you two talking about?”
Patrick threw the towel he’d been holding on the counter and reached for my hand. “I’d pour you more wine, but this isn’t something you should consider when your faculties aren’t intact.”
Tugging my hand, he pulled me toward the couch in the living room. It faced toward the large floor-to-ceiling windows. As we sat, I saw beyond the darkness of the park to the glimmering Upper West Side.
“Little cousin, I can trust you, can’t I? Like when we were kids, pinky-swear?”
“Y-Yes.”
His smile grew. It was like we were kids and he was about to tell me some secret, maybe about a Christmas present. “Listen to me,” he instructed. “When I’m all done you can ask questions or tell me I’m crazy, but promise you’ll listen to everything first.”
“I’ll listen.”
“I’m going to tell you about a company I work for.”
“The design firm?”
“No, although I do work there too. I’m going to tell you about the other company I work for. It’s very exclusive