Page 42 of Selfish Suit

“Could you please stop talking before someone else hears you?”

“There’s no one else here.” He moves closer. “Are you about to try to avoid me again?”

“Yes.” I straighten my back.

“Why?”

“Because you and I are currently stuck in a weirdTwilight Zoneepisode where the older man screws his much younger?—”

“You’re not that much younger…”

“—intern,” I pick up where I left off. “And then, because he’s done so much nice shit trying to pretend to be a nice guy, she’ll catch feelings off some sexual innuendos and then he’ll be screwing someone else at the end while her heart breaks during the credits.”

He blinks. “What do you think about all that?”

“I think it’s obvious you’ve never watched an episode ofThe Twilight Zone.”

“I’m being serious,” I say. “I have three more condos to look at with Tracey, and I should have that done by the time the Skittles team comes to see us and… I don’t want to—I don’t want to cross the line again.”

“Okay, Miss Locke,” he says. “Fair enough. We’ll keep it strictly business from here on out.”

He walks away easily, confirming everything I just said.

THE INTERN

IVY

Several Mornings Later

Idon’t remember making the agreement that we would ride to and from work together every day, and yet, despite the fact that we’re barely talking, that’s what’s happening.

And I’m slowly slacking on my apartment search, even though deep down I know this can’t last.

Every morning like clockwork, the Audi pulls up to the curb in front of the penthouse, and every night—after he finishes working like he’s singlehandedly trying to buy the moon—he’s standing in the parking garage holding the passenger door open, waiting to take me home.

He doesn’t always talk.

Sometimes he’s on calls.

Sometimes he’s answering messages.

But sometimes he just watches me. Quiet. Intense.

And even when he says nothing, his presence wraps around me like a warning.

At the apartment, he doesn’t intrude. But things shift.

There’s always hot coffee in the machine.

A charger appears next to my bed, even though I never asked for one.

Fresh towels in the guest bath. My favorite toothpaste. A drawer cleared in the vanity for my stuff.

He doesn’t say it’s for me, but it is.

The tension at the office doesn’t go away, though…

If anything, it sharpens.

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