Page 101 of Serving the Mogul

Tina: Called a cab. Heading home.

That was it.

I stared at the screen, willing another message to come through, but nothing happened.

I turned on my heel and strode back to the house, where I came across Zoey on her way out through the patio door.

The expression on my face made her huff out a breath. “What’s the problemnow?”

“What the fuck is this?” I shoved the phone at her.

She skimmed it and held the phone back out. With a pretty, dimpled smile, she replied. “This, my dear brother, is a text. I’m surprised you haven’t learned about them yet.”

“No, smart-ass.” I snatched the phone from her hand, clenching it in my fist as my mind raced over what had happened in the last twenty minutes.

* * *

I didn’t stay longafter the talk with Zoey.

Tina filled my thoughts.

I texted her before leaving. I took the long way home, confident she would respond, and we could talk about this, hopefully at her place.

That didn’t happen.

Pissed off now and uncertain what to do, I went straight home. But I made the mistake of goinghomeinstead of to the penthouse suite in the city.

I stripped out of the clothes I’d worn to the picnic to take a long shower. I told myself it was to wash away the sweat of the hot day. In reality, it was to wipe off the faint scent of her I kept picking up, perhaps from my t-shirt, perhaps from my skin.

I changed into a loose pair of lounge pants and went out to the extended wooden deck that ran the length of the porch.

I dropped into a chair on the deck and let my head fall back. Staring at the endless expanse of sky, I brooded over the message I probablyshouldsend.

I even typed one several times over.

But in the end, I deleted it all.

Thirty-Seven

Tina

I slumpedin my office chair, the weight of my work responsibilities weighing heavy on my shoulders. It wasn’t quite ten on a Tuesday, and I already felt like I’d worked an entire week.

Half the shit I needed to begin the next phase of the project at the hotel was either on backorder at the suppliers, or the paperwork to get the crews started had been delayed.

I also had several inspections lined up, and until they were complete and passed, there was only so much I could do.

I stared blankly at the calendar on my desk and my mind wandered to James and what he’d said to his sister, Zoey.

Zoey, with her simple yet elegant fashion sense, and pretty smile, with sparkling eyes to match.

He had asked her to design a dress for me so that I would have something appropriate to wear to a formal event, as if I couldn’t come up with a suitable gown on my own.

My head hurt just thinking about it, so every time those thoughts bubbled to the surface, I pushed them out. I couldn’t do my job and think about him.

To make an already shitty day worse, this morning I’d discovered a slight problem with my usual caffeine dose—I was out of coffee. At homeandat the office. A low-level headache had been teasing me since I opened my eyes, and every minute that passed without my favorite brew made it worse.

Of course, if I could stop crying or brooding over James, maybe I could sleep better at night. If I slept better, I wouldn’t need so much caffeine to get through the day. If I didn’t drink so much caffeine, I might rest easier. It was a vicious cycle.

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