Curious, I slide my thumb against the screen, then raise it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Connelly.”
I brace myself against the bathroom counter and hang my head. I recognize that voice. I just don’t know why Wallace Embry would bother to contact me unless he’s checking up on me, which means I’m still on his radar. And that’s the last place I want to be.
“Uh, hello, sir,” I return, my knuckles white as I grip the edge of the granite surface.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
Why the hell are you calling me?
“Good. I assume you’re acclimating to the new apartment?”
Cocking my head to the side, I take in the white cabinets, black accents, and mirror that’s still fogged from my shower. My stunned expression would be laughable if the situation weren’t so insane. “How did you––”
“I stopped by your old place to say hello and meet your fiancée. The landlord informed me that you’ve moved.”
“Oh.” My hand that isn’t holding my phone digs into the back of my neck. “I apologize for not passing along our new address. I just figured…since I’m on probation––”
“You’re not on probation, Connelly. You’re simply taking a leave of absence until Reed’s case is closed.”
“Of course.”
“I, however, haven’t moved,” he informs me.
“Pardon?”
“I’ve yet to see your wedding invitation, Connelly,” he explains. “Why is that, exactly?”
“Oh. Well, uh––”
“We’d like to have you over for dinner. Say, this Friday? My wife makes an excellent spaghetti and meatball dish that I’m sure your fiancée would love to try.”
Spaghetti and meatballs? Being fed to an Italian mob princess? That sounds promising.
“Yeah, of course,” I reply. “I’m sure she’d love to exchange recipes.”
“Perfect. I’ll let my wife know.” Embry’s nonchalance makes my blood boil, but I bite my tongue to keep from lashing out. The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. I just can’t decide if it’s because he’s an honest man and wants to confirm my loyalty, or if he’s working for Reed and is searching for my weaknesses.
I shift my phone to my other ear. “Sounds good. We’ll see you then.”
“Perfect. And Connelly?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget to deliver that invitation. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Of course not. Goodbye, sir.”
“Goodbye.”
Fuck.
What the hell am I supposed to do now? Asking Bianca to tag along to my boss’s house so that she can pretend to be a doting future wife while beneath a damn microscope sounds worse than waking up during a colonoscopy. And the odds of her accepting the challenge after all the shit I’ve put her through are less than zero, regardless of how many times I’ve tried to extend the olive branch.
I’m screwed.
Tossing my phone onto the counter, I rub the towel against my head then knot it at my waist and step into the hall.
“Ooph.” A pair of tiny hands press against my bare chest as Bianca steadies herself after running into me.
“Shit, sorry,” I apologize, reaching for her waist to help her keep her balance.
She freezes in my grasp. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Her long nails dig into my pecs before pulling away from me as though she’s been burned.
As soon as she’s steady, I let go of her and drop my arms to my side. “You okay?”
“I already said I’m fine.” There’s a hint of bitch in her tone, but the snarky smile that graces her lips softens it, transforming her words into something almost friendly.
I hide my surprise by returning her smile with one of my own. “I’m fine too, by the way. Thanks for asking.”
“Mmhmm.” Her gaze flicks up toward the ceiling before she steps around me, heading for the kitchen when I stop her.
“Hey.”
Turning around, she pops out her hip, and waits for me to get to the point.
“My boss called.”
Her face falls. “And?”
“And we have a dinner date on Friday.”
“We? As in…?”
“You. Me. My boss. And his wife.”
“Wooooow.” She drags out the word. “That sounds promising.”
“And she’s making spaghetti and meatballs.”
“What a peach,” Bianca returns.
“Thought you might appreciate that. So,”––I step closer––“will you go with me?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice. But it would mean a lot if you helped me out.”
Her teeth dig into her lower lip as her cool gaze bounces around my face. “Why should I help you?”
My jaw tightens as I shift my weight from one foot to the other while trying to come up with a worthwhile answer. After a minute, I shrug. “Honestly, I can’t think of a good enough reason that would sway you. I’m an ass. We’ve already established that much. You’re already