Page 46 of The Ice Queen in the Corner Office

She left before I could ask her what the alternative was, because if it was anything other than death, I might just be willing to give it a try.

***

It was full dark out by the time I gathered the courage to knock on Alex’s door.

“It’s open,” he yelled.

I let myself in, careful not to drop anything I was carrying. “I thought you might be hungry,” I said, before I was all the way through the door. I heard the hum of the T.V. and glimpsed Alex’s form on the bed, before I kicked the door shut and set the plate, with left over risotto, steak, and cornbread, on the night stand.

I held onto the plate of double chocolate cookies Mom had baked specially for me. I wasn’t letting those babies out of my sight. Plus, they gave me something distracting to look at, asking him to leave would be easier if I didn’t look at him.

“Thanks,” he said. “But May got me something from the diner where she works when she drove me back here.”

“Right,” I said, eyes on the floor. “I’ll just take this back to the house. I’m guessing you’ll want to head back to the city in the morning. I’ll see you in the office.”

“Wait.” I was halfway to the door when the word stopped me. “If you’re squelching on our deal, at least look me in the eye when you kick me out.”

I spun, instinctively looking at him. I winced. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and his face creased in pain. “Aren’t they giving you pain meds?”

“I hate that shit. Answer the question.”

“I’m not squelching on our deal. I just figured you’d want to get back to your condo since you’re hurt.”

His brows rose to his hairline and some of the hardness in his gaze was replaced by amusement. “How would I get there? I can’t drive with only one foot.”

I rolled my eyes. “You only need one foot to drive and, if it’s such a hardship, hire a driver. I’m sure you can afford it.”

He shook his head, pursing his lips. “It’s always about money with you, isn’t it?”

“What?” I spluttered, nearly dropping my cookies. “I don’t care about money.”

“Sure, you do. You’re a reverse snob. If I was a homeless man on the street you’d be more likely to give me a friendly smile and a warm hello. You’d even give me blankets in the winter and lunch in the summer.”

“So, you’ve been stalking me for a while,” I said, pretending more outrage than I really felt.

“I don’t stalk you,” he said slowly, like he was explaining to a small child. “I notice you. I see you. We could be in a room packed with people and I’d find you without even trying. I can’t look away from you, and I don’t want to.”

I pasted on an indifferent, mocking smile, pretending his words didn’t get to me, didn’t warm me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “Dress it up with whatever fancy words you want, a stalker is a stalker. I’m sure you want to get home and lay in bed with your big screen T.V. and your own stuff.”

“Why would I want to do that? I don’t have anyone to take care of me there.”

My stomach sank. “And you have someone here to take care of you?”

“Are you saying you won’t take care of me? You’d just leave me out here to rot away and freeze to death?”

“You have a broken ankle. And crutches. You’ll be fine.”

He shook his head sadly. “I guess I’ll figure out a way to manage, and you’ll have to manage with being a huge, yellow-bellied chicken.”

I sighed, it was like arguing with a two-year-old. “I’ll live.”

I grabbed a cookie and took a huge bite. I’d take comfort wherever I could get it.

“You’ll be known as a deal breaker, an untrustworthy person. Can you really accept that?”

My shoulders slumped, and I knew I was defeated. Partly because I never backed out of a deal and partly because I actually did feel bad for him. He looked miserable.

I finished the cookie and picked up another one, considering him. “What do you want me to do?”

---