Page 41 of For Wrath and Redemption
He clears his throat again, then hits me with a tone I’ve only heard him use with employees or staff when they’ve done something to displease him. Severe. Commanding. Superior.
“I’m glad to hear the job is going well. I will call you in a few days to check in. Will there be anything else?”
I blink, and it takes me a few breaths before I can speak. Almost four thousand miles between us, and I still feel like I’ve been slapped.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head slowly. “No...there’s nothing else.”
“Good.”
He hangs up without saying goodbye. He gives me no chance to say anything in return. I pull the phone from my ear and stare at it ascall endeddisappears and the phone screen goes black.Le Châteauon a Thursday night with Dierdre. I’m not an idiot. I know what this is.
“He out with his wife?”
My eyes shoot straight to the doorway. Jonah is leaning on the frame with his arms crossed, expression equal parts smug and sympathetic. He’s still wearing the same distressed jeans and vintage band tee he had on for the show.
“When did you get here?” I snatch up my phone and click on the screen, finding a text from José.OTWsent twenty minutes ago. I look back at Jonah. “How long have you been listening in on my conversation?”
I run back through the phone call. I’ve been careful not to say Conrad’s name. I’m usually good about hiding it. I’ve had a lot of practice recently. But did I let it slip...? I stare at him and wait for a sign. Is he fucking with me, or does he not know? Then he smirks.
“Long enough to know your boyfriend is cheating on his mistress with his wife. You’re the mistress, in case you weren’t sure.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I am not a mistress because he is not married, and he is not cheating on me.”
The statement tastes like ash. Even I know it’s a lie.
Jonah pushes off the doorframe and prowls toward me, looking me up and down in a way that makes me want to pull the duvet up to my neck.
“Who is Dierdre, then? Certainly not abusinesspartner.”
“I’m tired.” I snap my laptop closed. “Don’t stay up too late, please. We have a full day tomorrow.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Are my test results back? I need to get laid.”
I sigh, grateful for the subject change. “The doctor said five days.”
“I’m not waiting five days to have sex, Davis. I wear condoms. I don’t have any STIs.”
“Sorry to break it to you, Hendrix, but that’s not how it works.” I throw the duvet off my body and climb out of bed so I can dig some ibuprofen out of my bag. “While I am beyond glad to hear you have at least one functioning brain cell in your head, condoms aren’t one hundred percent preventative of anything.” I throw the pills into my mouth and swallow them dry. “Not babies. Not sexually transmitted infections. Nothing.”
“You’re messing with my post-show routine. I play a show. I fuck a groupie or three.”
I shrug. “You’ll be fine.”
He watches me with his arms folded over his chest, brows slanted slightly. Again, I feel like I’m being studied. A reminder that I need to mask any and all weaknesses. I stand taller, and he smiles.
“I get tested regularly on my own, and I know how condoms work. I’m not an idiot.”
“Congratulations.”
We fall into silence once more, and for some reason, I don’t want tobe the one to break our eye contact. It feels like a challenge, and between the dressing room conversation and the phone call, I really need to win something today. I take a step closer and peer up into his blue eyes. As much as it makes me want to vomit, I take a page out of his father’s book.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Hendrix?”
I half-expect him to proposition me. Offer me a guest-starring role in his post-show routine or some other insufferable suggestion. I’m even prepared with a scathing retort, but then he surprises me.
“Why’d you pick that caption?”
“Excuse me?”
