Page 111 of The Bet
He walked in front of them, leading the way, while she and Xavier followed, each of them clutching a monkey, neither saying a word.
Later that evening, he dropped her off again at her apartment, parking outside on the street in his Ferrari.
“Don’t you feel show-offy driving around in this?” she asked him. The thrill of being in this car was real. People stared when the car stopped at traffic lights, and she watched their reactions, a mixture of awe and admiration.
“No, why would I?”
“You have to be careful around here,” she said. “It’s not a safe neighborhood.”
“Then why do you live here?”
“It’s affordable.” And it left enough money over so they could eat and go out a few times a month.
He didn’t say anything, but she could tell by the frown on his forehead, that he was mulling things over. “Don’t you have anything less… showy,” she said, trying to find the right word without sounding offensive.
“I don’t doless.”
She stared at his huge watch. “Obviously.” Then she remembered that time he’d called her at Christmas. “I can show you how to do those reports, if you want.”
“Now? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” But she didn’t know why she felt a fluttering in her stomach. Why her pulse had started to race. Under her cool exterior, she was a hothouse of emotions, and she didn’t like being this out of control. Worse than that, she didn’t like that the reason for her insides going haywire might be the tall, hard-muscled guy walking alongside her.
In the eerie silence that clung to them like cobwebs, she considered making conversation, but what was there to say? What could she say that didn’t sound trite? And so she attempted humor as she got out her house keys.
“See, no dollar bills today.”
He didn’t look amused. “I fucking hope not.”
The way he swore, and the anger in his voice, surprised her.
“As if you’d tell me,” he added.
“Tell you what?”
“Who he was.”
She stared at him. “What difference would that make?”
His face had darkened; the skin around his eyes was tight as he stayed silent.
“You want to know?” They stopped outside her door. And she hung onto her key, not yet inserting it into the lock.
“Only if you’re ready. When you’re ready.”
The thudding in her heart turned louder. Something about the simmering rage in his voice sent a shockwave through her gut. Xavier, flirting and being lewd, she could handle, she could take him down a peg or two. Xavier being intense, and angry, over a guy who had been a dick to her—made her feel special.
She opened the door and he followed her in. Stepping away, so that her gaze could better sweep over his face, and take in the seriousness of his expression, she rubbed her forehead, and wondered why she was actually considering telling him.
Cara knew. But for some reason, the way this man was looking at her, made her want to tell him.
“How’s Cara doing?” he asked, suddenly interrupting her thought pattern.
“She’s fine. She’s at her boyfriend’s place.”
“She is?”
Was it her imagination or did his voice sound a little odd when he asked her? Or was she feeling odd because it was just her and him, and only the two of them at her apartment? She didn’t want him to think she had asked him in because of any particular reason. Guys like Xavier went from stationary to warp speed in seconds, and she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.
