Page 16 of Beware of Dog

Cass uncrossed her legs, leaned the other way in her chair, and recrossed them. “I gave her a day to calm down. Then the next morning I said, ‘Good morning.’ I say that every morning. She doesn’t respond. I’ve asked her if she wants to get coffee. If she wants to walk over to the art building together. She pretends I don’t exist.”

Ian rotated his chair some more, and steepled his fingers together in a pose that always made her want to laugh. It was so performative, but he pulled it off. “Have you apologized?”

“No. I shouldn’t have to. I didn’t do anything to her.”

Ian cocked his head, long, auburn hair shifting against his back like a curtain. “In her eyes, your actions have prevented her from making friends with thisSigperson.” The way he said Sig’s name made her grin. But only for a moment.

Then she pulled a face. “Sig’s a wanker. She’s better off without him.”

“Did you tell herwhyhe’s a wanker?”

“No.” She fidgeted with the hem of her oversized hoodie, picking at a spot of white paint there. “I didn’t want to accuse him of something and have it blow back on me. I don’t even know for sure that he was the one who drugged my drink. It could have been anyone there.”

“So tell her that: don’t blame Sig specifically, but tell her that someone at the party tried to harm you, and you don’t think either of you should spend time with that crowd.”

“Icould.” And she’d thought about it a lot over the past week. “I don’t know if she’ll listen at this point.”

“Hm.” He made another considering face, then glanced toward the door and gestured with two fingers as his assistant entered the office, bearing a tray with steaming white mugs of coffee for both of them.

Cass’s latte sported a foam fern leaf, and she accepted the packet of imported chocolate biscuits that came along with it when Denise offered them.

When she was gone, and they were both sipping, Ian said, “I believe you have two options. One, you can continue to wait, and hope that she values your friendship more than some ephemeral idea of popularity.”

“You’re really busting out the expensive words today.”

He nodded, corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Or you can take action. I think you have to address your fight. You might even have to apologize—even,” he continued, lifting a finger off his mug when she started to protest, “if you shouldn’t have to. The thing that marriage has taught me is that sometimes you say you’re sorry to make peace, even if you don’t believe you’ve done something wrong.” His gaze rolled over toward the bookshelf, the framed photo he kept there of him with Alec. “Also, makeup sex is brilliant.”

“I’m not havingmakeup sexwith my friend, Ian.”

“Quite right.” He blinked, and a slow, devious grin split his narrow face. “This is the point at which your sister would like me to discourage you from having sex with anyone. But what are cool pseudo-uncles for if not to encourage fun?” He winked.

She wrinkled her nose, face heating. “You’re the same age as my brothers. I don’t have any uncles.”

“Pity.” He gestured to himself extravagantly. “Allow me to offer my services.”

She snorted.

The intercom on his desk beeped, a polite chime. Denise’s voice piped through. “Mr. Shaman? Mr. Ronaldo is on line one.”

“Thank you, Denise.”

Cass stood. “I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks.”

“Any time, darling.” He cast a glance toward the window, and the picturesque screen of snow falling. “Do you want me to have the car pulled around for you?”

“No, thanks. I’ll Uber.”

He shuddered to show what he thought of that.

Cass drained the last of her latte, burning her mouth in the process, and headed out of the office with a final wave.

Ian was already putting the phone to his ear as he waved back.

The Jean-Jacque de Jardin offices were on a different floor from Raven’s offices, and the elevator was empty, so Cass made it out of the building without bumping into her sister, or any of her sister’s staff who might mention that she was in the building.

Her Uber driver was probably her age, and excited about the snow. She dropped her half of the conversation a couple of times, preoccupied with thoughts of Jamie, and her plan of attack.

Though it pained her to do it, she knew Ian was right, and that she would have to apologize. Shep would have saidfuck herhad she taken her problem to him.If she doesn’t like you, just fuck her. She could even hear the words in his rough, dismissive voice, and the thought made her smile, though it was totally unhelpful. She and Jamie were going to be roommates at least until spring semester ended. She didn’t want to wage a cold war with her for months.

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