I tip my head back on the sofa and shut my eyes. “I hate men.”
“Don’t say that. Your work friend seems nice,” Allie says.
I glance at her, and she’s grinning widely.
“He’s married.” I don’t mention that he has two kids. The fact that he’s married is enough to stop me from showing interest in him.
“So, what happened with the boyfriend?” Allie asks.
The girl is persistent.
“Don’t you have your show to watch?” I gesture at the television.
“No way, this is much more interesting. Real-life drama is a lot more intense.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Dish it.”
I can’t tell my thirteen-year-old daughter that my fake boyfriend insists that I’m working for a mafia boss. It sounds crazy in my head, and saying it out loud will only make it real.
“He’s crazy,” I say. “Dmitri has to be crazy.” It’s the only explanation I’ll accept, because if he’s right, I’ve already shown Antonio where I live, and he’s briefly met my daughter. In my anger at Dmitri, I wasn’t thinking clearly about my family.
My phone buzzes.
It’s Dmitri.
“Are you going to answer it?” Allie asks. She peers at my phone, grinning even wider, like she’s happy to see I’m suffering. I know that’s not the case, but it sure as hell feels that way.
I groan and head out of the living room. I need privacy if I’m going to talk to him. I shuffle into my bedroom and shut the door. It takes me a second to regain my composure before I click to accept his call.
“What do you want, Dmitri?” I ask.
If he’s calling to apologize, I’m not ready to hear it.
“Where the hell are you? It’s late, and I’ve circled the neighborhood a dozen times looking for you.”
“I’m home.”
“Home? How did you get home?” He pauses for a beat. “You didn’t take the subway. Hannah went in that direction and caught the train. You took a cab,” he says, answering his question of how I got home.
“No, someone gave me a ride.”
I’m not about to lie to him.
“You got into a car with a stranger?”
“He wasn’t a stranger,” I say. “Besides, you made it clear that you think you can put a leash on me and tell me who I can and can’t work for. Well, you’re wrong. This fake relationship is officially over.”
I end the call, refusing to fight any more with Dmitri. We’re not dating. We’re not a couple. It’s over.
I turn off my phone, not wanting to receive any more calls or texts for the night. I leave it on my bedside table to remove any further temptation before returning to the living room with Allie.
“Did he apologize?” Allie asks, watching me as I stroll across the room and sit beside her.
“No, but I didn’t give him time to, either. It’s over.”
“I thought you really liked him?” Allie’s brow is furrowed as she stares at me.
Is she waiting for me to cry?
We haven’t been together that long. Hell, we haven’t even really been anything more than friends with benefits. Yes, I’ll miss the sex, but it’s nothing that I can’t satisfy with a new vibrator. Dmitri is a million times better than any vibrator I’ve ever owned, but it’s not worth the headache.