“She’s being unreasonable.” I scoop up the key from the desk, turning it over in my palm and wondering how something so insignificant could piss her off so much.
“Not to be a master of the obvious, but you’re the king of unreasonable.”
I shoot him a menacing glare. “I may be your brother, but I’m still your boss.”
“And yet you don’t buy me an apartment.” He shrugs. “All I’m saying is, Ash is more than an employee, and you know it. It’s insulting to give her an apartment.”
“I’m trying to keep her safe, goddammit. You saw what they did to her!” I scowl at him as I tug at the knot of my tie, needing more air to fill my lungs. “They’ll do it again if given the opportunity.”
“And tell me, Winny, what’s the problem with the room she’s got at your place?”
“It’s where we play,” I snap. “Not where she lives.”
“So you can fuck her and buy her shit, but she can’t get her mail there? That makes a whole lot of sense.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“There’s nothing to fuck up. I pay her to please me.”
“Maybe in the beginning. But now? You’re an idiot if you think either of you are comfortable staying in those roles. Come on, big bro, you’re not the only intelligent person around here. I can see this for what it is. She’s your girlfriend whether you want to admit it or not. You basically just told said girlfriend that you want her to leave the place she’s been spending all her time at to stay at an apartment you pay for.”
“So?”
“In chick speak, you’re practically breaking up with her.”
“We’re. Not. Dating.”
He shakes his head, grumbling under his breath.
“What’s that?” I demand, sounding oddly like Dad in this moment.
“I said, ‘If you ran Halcyon like you do your love life, we’d be bankrupt.’”
“Fuck. Off.”
“Suit yourself. Ruin your life. What do I care?” He rolls his eyes. “Seriously, man, get your head out of your ass.”
I toss him the keys. “You’re her friend. When she’s done being pissed, take her to dinner and then show her the apartment.”
“And if she refuses? Want me to take her home?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I growl. “Take her to my place.”
The fucker smirks, earning him the middle finger from me.
“Where will you be, Winny? Off somewhere trying to convince yourself you’re not in love?”
“I’m not answering that. Just do what I say, Perry.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“That ship sailed when I hired you, a goddamn child.”
“Love you too, bro.”
“Fuck off.”
14
Ash
My phone buzzes from my purse. I yank it out and glower at it, ready to give Winston a piece of my mind. But it’s not Win.
Crap.
Asshole Stalker: Did you find anything?
Me: It’s been hours. What the hell do you expect me to find?
Asshole Stalker: Look in his emails today. See if there’s anything of value there.
Me: He has cameras in his office.
Asshole Stalker: Figure something out.
Me: I can’t! If he catches me doing a Morelli’s bidding do you think he’d keep me around? Contrary to what you believe, I’m not all that important to him.
I’m his whore.
Bitter tears sting at my eyes. I told him I didn’t want the stupid apartment, and he got it anyway. He’s pushing me away, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Asshole Stalker: Follow this link.
Dread pools in the pit of my stomach. It’s a video of Winston and me. Filthy and dirty. You can’t see my face very well, but there’s no denying who’s fucking my ass. I blink back the tears that threaten and swallow down the fear clawing up my throat.
Me: What have you done?
Asshole Stalker: Nothing yet. This video is in drafts on a porn account. All I have to do is hit the publish button and then hit send on the email to one of the city’s most vicious journalists. Click and click. That easy.
Me: You’re asking for the impossible.
Asshole Stalker: Someone getting close to that motherfucker was impossible and you managed that with your golden teenage cunt. Put that magical pussy to work and get me something.
There’s no way in hell I’m snooping in Win’s stuff and giving this asshole actual information. I’ll lie. Being honest about what I can get him hasn’t worked thus far.
Me: When he’s distracted on a call, I’ll take his phone to the bathroom and look at the emails there.
Asshole Stalker: I’ll expect an answer later.
Me: Oh no.. . . . My phone is dying. Bye.
I shut the phone off and attempt not to panic. He won’t publish the video without getting information from me first. I have to believe that.
“Are you going to continue to pout about the inevitable?” Win’s deep voice booms from the doorway of his office.
I nearly drop my phone and toss it into my purse, trying and failing to keep my features level. “I don’t want to talk about this.”