Page 51 of Van Cort
“None of your damn business.”
“You’ve made it my business by being here. Move into the penthouse. I’m not having you screwing up my life any more than you are doing. And use the private elevator from the parking lot. I’ll set you up access codes.”
Putting the phone down on that conversation, I go into the coffee house, order my drink, set up his codes and send them, and leave.
Order – that’s what I need. It’s all well and good playing like this, but she’s smart, and sooner or later she’s going to start working out that something isn’t right.Add that into the whole of Seattle being confused as to why there’s only one of us, yet we’re in two different places, and his crazy will start infecting mine.
I send some emails, requesting the house be opened and stocked for me, and keep moving. It’s time to show her what she could get if I choose it. Perhaps I should start smiling more and giving her that other side of me I keep buried. It’s far more like him. Far more like me.
***
“Everett? What are you doing here?” she says, frowning. “I’m supposed to be meeting you at your office on Monday, aren’t I? Actually, I know I am. Not because you asked me, but because somehow you have arranged for me to work for you, and that information was delivered via Antony’s boss.”
I smile at her in her doorway and push my way into her apartment. “It was a small white lie.” Unlike the large one she’s keeping me in the dark about. River-Spring? Who names their child that? If it wasn’t for the temporary contract being issued yesterday, I doubt she’d ever have told me. “Pack a bag. Enough for a few days.” She looks at me and leans against the countertop in her kitchen.
“Why?”
“You said you liked mountains and the outdoors.”
Her eyebrow pitches upwards. “I do, but-”
“Go pack a bag then.”
“You’re stealing me from my job, intervening in fact, more than just putting Antony in his place, and insisting on taking me away again? Anyone might think this is serious.”
“Maybe it is. Or maybe I just like fucking you.” She frowns almost instantly, as if those last words annoyed her.
My hands find my pockets.
She stares for some time, flat-faced and almost cold. I like the look on her. It’s honest. And pissed. “It’s sentences like that that make me re-evaluate the risks and ongoing requisition here.”
I lean on the wall. “You don’t like the honesty? You should, because I do like fucking you.” Not that I have for some time now. And I’d like the next time to be far more honest than the last. “You asked for communication, Andie. There it is. Without it, we go nowhere other than fucking. I’m assuming you don’t want that, so here I am.”
“Communication is more than just throwing your initial thoughts out loud. I do appreciate the honesty, but I’m not a business deal to negotiate behind my back.”
“Hmm.” Interesting. “Noted. We better get to the details then. Lots to learn. Bag?”
Her eyes narrow. “Three days?” I nod. “What do I need to bring? I have a pitch presentation that I don’t want to miss. And am I, in fact, going to be doing the audit of your current financial affairs that I’ve been led to believe I’m working on?”
I scoff. “Do you want to audit me?”
Another stare, this time steeled with something undisclosed. “Yes. I’d like a full, detailed analysis.” Hmm.
“Would you.”
“Yes.” My brow arches.
“The numbers won’t add up, Andie. They’ve been…manipulated.”
“Well, that’s arguably the whole point of an audit, Everett. Exploring fact. Scrutinising numbers until it does add up, even if you don’t like the end result.”
It’s my turn to stare, to analyse, to think over our current situation and wonder about honesty and open communication.
I sigh, breathe, lick my lips.
She really is very beautiful, especially when she keeps snarling at me.
“Fine. Bring your laptop if you like. We have the weekend and can negotiate the details, as you say. Over wine.” I’ll need it. “As for clothing, a dress or two. Something for the outdoors if you feel like walking or running, a sweater. Your passport.”
