Page 70 of The Prince's Game
“You okay over there, Rach?” I was lounging on the sofa, working on a project for the public health firm I volunteered for in college. They hired me back on a part-time basis last month after I begged them for a job. Without a reference from Stern and Associates, I wasn’t having much luck getting a new full-time gig in Chicago. Everyone wanted an explanation for why I quit without notice, and I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it yet.
“No.” Rachel slammed her purse down on the kitchen counter and stalked off to her bedroom. I gave her space and waited for her to come back. When she did, she was dressed in pajama pants and a tank top, and her blonde hair was tousled up into a bun. My eyebrows hit my hairline. Rachel’s dressing down at this early hour was not a good sign. “What’s going on?”
“I’d offer you wine, but I don’t feel like sharing. And you’re going to work in a few hours anyway.” She pulled a fresh bottle from the fridge, opened it, and poured herself a healthy glass. She was halfway finished with it before collapsing beside me on the couch. “I fucking hate my job right now.”
“Bad day at work, then?”
“You have no idea.”
“Want to talk about it?” I didn’t know much about being a lawyer, but I understood bad work days. They were my norm as of late.
“You’ll never believe . . .” She gave me an odd look and took a long sip of wine. “Actually, you know what? I don’t even want to talk about it.”
I knew my best friend better than she knew herself sometimes, which meant I knew when she was lying. She had a tell, a tick in her lower jaw. I was about to press when the door buzzer went off. Her blue eyes rounded. “Tell me you’re expecting someone.”
“Who would I be expecting?” I moved in last weekend. Three part-time jobs weren’t paying enough to cover rent and my student loans. Rachel offered me a spot until I could get back on my feet. Her two-bedroom flat had more than enough space, boasting two full bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room, and living area. I envied her lawyer salary.
The door buzzed again. I got to my feet. “I guess I’ll get that.” Because Rachel didn’t look like she was going to move anytime soon. What had gotten into her? Did Ryan come to see her today? That would explain her mood. Her ex showed up at the most inopportune times. If he was here now, I’d send him back to hell. He would never touch my best friend again.
My confidence deflated as I checked the peephole. “Shit.” What was Will doing here? I cracked open the door and met the trademark Mershano gaze that haunted my dreams at night. My heart hurt looking at him. “Hey, Will.”
His blond eyebrows lifted. “Sarah? What are you doing here?”
“She fucking lives here, Mershano,” Rachel yelled from the couch. “Go home.”
His brow furrowed. “I thought you had a place by the water or something?”
I wasn’t sure how he knew that, but I didn’t bother to ask. “Not anymore.” I forced a smile. “What brings you to our apartment?”And if you’re not here for me, why are you here?Why would he visit Rachel?
“Dinner.” He held up a paper bag and walked past me into the apartment. “I only brought enough for two, but I’ll order more.” He set the food on the dining room table and removed his leather jacket. The scent reminded me of Evan, but the brazenness was all Will. He meandered into the kitchen, found the plates and silverware on his first guess, and walked back to start distributing food.
“Sure, come right in and make yourself at home.” Rachel looked like she was considering throwing her empty wine glass at the intruder’s head.Interesting.
“Thanks, darlin’.” He flashed her a dimple and continued preparing dinner. “So how’s the new firm going, Sarah? Everything coming along okay?”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “Uh . . .”
“Seriously?” Rachel stalked into the kitchen and poured herself more wine. “I thought I made myself clear this morning. I’m not working for you.”
“Right, and as I said, you’ll be workingwithme.” He waggled his brows and pushed a plate toward her. Sesame chicken with broccoli and fried rice. Rachel’s favorite. Her blue eyes narrowed, but admiration swirled in their depths. My best friend was impressed. I was, too.
She picked up the dish and gave Will a measured look. “Accepting this doesn’t mean I accept your proposal.”
“Uh-huh.” He winked at her and pushed the other plate toward me. “I’ll order myself something else.”
“Oh, don’t trouble yourself. I’ve got work in an hour and have to get ready. You two, uh, enjoy.” Something was up with them. Was this why Rachel came home in a huff?
“It’s almost seven o’clock.” He took a bite of his beef dish. The red pepper flakes gave it a spicy scent. “Isn’t marketing a day job?”
“Mostly.” I closed my laptop on the couch and stowed it in my messenger bag. “Bartending, however, is a night job.”
He stopped chewing and gave me a once-over. “Bartending?”
“Yep.” I gave Rachel a look that said,You’re explaining this to me later, and walked into my room to change. The red halter top and jean skirt reminded me of college, but I earned good tips wearing it. I threw it on, pulled my thick hair into a high ponytail, and put on a pair of strappy heels. Not my favorite job, but it paid the bills. I touched up my makeup and applied concealer to hide the bags beneath my eyes.
I didn’t sleep much these days. Every night I dreamt ofhim. The “time heals all wounds” rhetoric didn’t apply to my broken heart. It hurt just as much today as it did six weeks ago when I left Maui. I flew coach back to Chicago. It was a slap in the face, and all I could think about was Amber on his private jet. I hated him, and I loved him.
I never developed the photos from our trip to Iceland. The camera he gave me was packed away in a box in the closet. I refused to look at it. It hurt too much. Some nights I considered burning it, but whenever I got the nerve to retrieve it, I started to cry. I was a mess.
