Page 61 of Double Apex

She’s referring to something that has become part of our careful non-relationship idiom—telling each other what wewouldsay, were we in love.

I flex one foot and caress her thigh. “Were I in love with you, Miss Morgan, I would say your every particular—right down to the most seemingly insignificant minutiae—holds me in thrall. Heats my blood, makes my imagination lightup, and inspires a tenderness I never thought possible for a jaded tomcat such as myself.”

“Hmm,” she replies, lifting her eyebrows. “If you were in love, you’d be a really poetic guy.”

“Thank you,” I say, swinging an arm out as if bowing.

Phaedra tips her head back against the tub, studying me with a faint smile.

“If I were in love withyou, sir—” She pauses, and her face gets serious. “I’d ask why you’ve looked sad since your last trip to Bucharest. I’d tell you I want to comfort you.”

“Ah. Well then.” I pull in a deep breath through my nose. “My sister is compromising her principles to accept a donation for Vlasia House from a very bad man. She’s forgiven him for something she shouldn’t. It’s beneath her—he’sbeneath her. I’m angry and disappointed.”

Phaedra blows a bit of hair off her forehead, appearing to wrestle with her reply. “Oh my. ‘Beneath her.’ That’s quite, um…”

“Quitewhat?”

She shrugs. “Hate to break it to you, but ‘doing such and such is beneath you’ is bossy-shamey language. And whether she forgives someone is up toher.”

“You’re defending her reflexively in the absence of information.”

“Look, I just can’t tell you how many times, professionally, I’ve had a dude say basically ‘I’d have expected better from you’ to bully me into doing it their way. Believe me, the ‘How is someone so smart doing something so disappointingly stupid?’ approach feels like shit.”

My foot drifts away from her leg.

“First point,” I reply crisply. “This is what I’ve said toyou—because you asked, please recall—and not how I phrased it to Viorica.”

“Are you sure about that?”

I hold up a finger to stop her from interrupting and immediately feel like a domineering bastard for doing it. “Second point: I believe you said you wished to comfort me. If that’s the case, you’re doing a piss-poor job.”

She sits up straighter, and I refrain from looking at her breasts, as much as I wish to.

“I’m asking a legitimate question, Cos! Not accusing you.”

“I heard nothing in the form of a question.”

She makes an impatient sound. “Okay, it’sperspective, based on my experience. Is that not okay or something?”

I fold my arms. “It’s fine. Proceed.”

“Wow, thanks, Your Eminence. Anyway, news flash: comforting you doesn’t mean I always say you’re right. Aren’t we supposed to be, like, practicing relationship crap?”

“Yes.”

“Well, sometimes ‘comfort’ means pointing out mistakes so people canfix the problem. Do you want me to be honest, or just jerk you off?”

I lift an eyebrow.

“Okay, lemme rephrase—”

“I understand, yes,” I concede. “What would you suggest?” I stop myself from addingin all your womanly wisdom, because I know it would start a full-scale battle, and justly so.

“Ugh, Cosmin.” She rubs both wet hands over her face. “You’re being snippy.”

I’m ready to be evenmoresnippy until her hands drop away and I see she genuinely looks upset. A flare of ache spreads in my chest.

“I apologize. Uita-te la ochii mei, draga mea.”

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