didn’t know what to do with that information. Maybe he was right. Maybe looking outside was a better idea.
My heart is doing the thing.
How come when anyone else looks at me, I assume all they can see is the scar, but when he looks at me, it’s like he’s looking straight into my soul? Why is that? I’ve got to calm down. I’d take a deep breath, if it wouldn’t be absolutely obvious.
“Okay, first—yeah, let’s do this very organized—first point. I feel bad that you got fired.”
“It wasn’t your fault. Jimi did it.”
“Jimi. I’m half-inclined to find some reason to sue him. You think he’s got good lawyers? I could find a pretext. Or maybe just send inspectors from the city in. Faulty wiring. Shut him down. How’d he like that, do you think? But no. I have to take responsibility. I put you in a bad situation. I was stupid, I got you into trouble. He did actually fire you, then? He threatened to, but I wasn’t sure—”
I just nod. The coffee is too hot to drink, so I hold it like a prop, for something to do with my hands.
“The thing you need to know is, I never do things like that. The club. Never. I mean, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about why you’re here. Please. I haven’t lured you into my evil sex lair or anything. God, this is fucking awkward.”
I’m sitting here trying to hide my discomfort, and he’s not making any effort at all to do the same. It’s like his couch has sharp iron spikes in the cushions, he’s twisting around so much.
Am I disappointed to hear that this isn’t going to be a seduction?
Honestly?
I could go either way. If he were to push me down right now, I’d probably let him. If he wanted a kiss, I’d probably kiss him. That’s not going to happen, and I can’t think about it happening, because if I do, I’ll get all breathy and hard and that’s the last thing I need right now. No. I’m going to let him apologize, I’m going to be noble and accept the apology, then I’m going to go home and apply for some jobs and stop wasting my time thinking about Colby Raines.
He stood up suddenly, without any warning, springing to his feet. Pacing in front of the window. “If Mary were here—hell, if Dalton were here—if I had anybody to tell me what to do, I mean, I could ask the lawyers but I know what they’d say, they’d be in here with a bunch of forms to shut you down—”
“Shut me down?”
“You know how they are, no wait, you don’t, hell, I don’t know what you know and what you don’t know about business. I just need some fucking advice is all, I don’t know whether this is the stupidest idea of my life or what.”
My heart flutters and I wish he’d get to the point before I can’t breathe anymore. Push me down. Kiss me. Right here, in your office. Master me.
“I… I’m happy to give you advice? If you want?”
A sharp look over at me, and he stops pacing. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly it. Let me just ask you, straight up. It’s you we’re talking about anyway.” He returns to his couch, but instead of sitting down, sinking into the cushions, he sits on the back of it, his shoes on the cushions, and it’s so casual in contrast to his surroundings that I almost laugh, he’s got so much energy right now, where is the sad man from the club?
“Okay,” he says, “two things. First is, I write you a check. I think that’s what the lawyers would say. And I wouldn’t be admitting anything, there wouldn’t be a real apology behind it, because if I say I did something wrong, then you come and sue me, and things get complicated—”
“Why would I sue you?”
“Trust me, okay? There’s papers to sign, if we go that route. Nondisclosures. It’s not ideal. But then I thought—”
“Wait, why would you write me a check?”
“Because I— Damn, see, you’ve got me all twisted on this. I think I’ve already apologized, and my team would kill me if they knew I did that. Never admit fault. Golden rule of business. Events occurred, unforeseen events we neither confirm nor deny our participation in. It’s kind of shitty if you ask me. I think people ought to own their mistakes. But I’m not a lawyer.”
“You’re going