would the other reason possibly be?” I stood and gathered my things. So much for having a calm start to my morning. Did he have to throw every single moment into disarray?
“You want something.”
I stilled.
“Nailed it.” He smirked.
“Fine.” I set my things down on the table and crossed my arms. “I have a deal with Ben. Happy?”
“Intrigued, maybe, but not happy. You and happy don’t exactly go together. That’s like throwing SAT prep into the homecoming dance. Then again, I bet you believe I never took the SATs, right? Because you think I’m an irresponsible, egotistical ass who will fuck up the first time he’s left alone for five minutes.” Those intense, show-stopping brown eyes hardened. “Just because it’s a big penthouse doesn’t mean I can’t hear your nightly check-in’s with Ben.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I lifted my chin. At least he hadn’t pressed me for details…yet. I’d watched Nixon chew other assistants up and spit them out with a smile over the last four years, and I was not about to add my name to the list—not when I was this close. “You got a thirteen-fifty on the SATs, which got you accepted to the University of Washington.”
He tensed.
“How the hell would you know that?” He set his mug down on the railing so hard I was surprised it didn’t shatter.
“It’s my job to know that, Nixon, and I’m damned good at it. I also know that you were accepted to Carnegie Mellon, Vanderbilt, and USC for music, but you didn’t go to any of them. Why is that?” I’d always wondered.
“Not everyone can afford those schools.” His jaw ticked.
“They can when they’re offered a full ride like you were,” I bit back.
He glared at me.
“Want to know what I think?”
“Sure, since it’s not like I can stop you from telling me anyway.” A muscle in his jaw ticked again.
“I think something—someone—kept you here.” The morning breeze was brisk, but the look in Nixon’s eyes turned downright glacial. “And honestly, that’s none of my business. But don’t, for a single moment, operate under the assumption that I think you’re stupid, because I know better, and you should too. Now, I’m going to go call your producer and stall him yet again, because ignoring someone’s phone call is the kindergarten equivalent of hiding behind your own hand and swearing no one can see you. News flash, Nixon. We all see you.”
I scooped up my planner and phone, turned to walk back into the apartment, then ruined my grand exit by forgetting my coffee. Damn. When I squared my shoulders and retrieved the cup from the table, he arched an eyebrow at me. Busted.
“I’m just saying, maybe we should go for casual Fridays before you run the LOFT completely out of dresses.”
Cue snappy subject change.
I pressed my lips together to keep from sputtering as I turned my back on him and headed into the penthouse. “This dress is from Nordstrom,” I said over my shoulder, “and this is as casual as I’m going to get.” I pointed at my bare feet. “And while yes, you are an irresponsible, egotistical ass, I didn’t say you couldn’t be left alone for five minutes without fucking up.”
“You didn’t?” he called after me.
“Nope. I gave you ten.” I closed the sliding glass door on his infuriating ass and got my day started. With any luck, the next six months would be the last I’d have to spend with Nixon Winters.
The rest of that week, he did his best to show me exactly how much trouble he could get into when left alone for those ten precious minutes.
In the time it took me to go to the bathroom, he left the building entirely. I found him at a driving range forty minutes later, slaughtering golf balls with the worst swing known to man. When he’d looked genuinely surprised to see me, I simply crossed my arms and waited for him to finish. What? Like I wouldn’t have his phone tracked? I wasn’t a rookie, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to fail when I was this close to making it.
I’d be able to hold my head up in my little town the next time I went home.
Today, I’d taken a call with Ben on the deck, and four minutes later, found myself racing for the car, tracking Nixon’s cell phone through traffic to a yoga studio.
“I’m going to throttle him,” I muttered, shoving the heavy glass door open a little harder than necessary and