Page 20 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
Chapter Seven
Anthony
I get up a little bit after nine. Ivy’s still sleeping. After our talk, she moved closer and put her arm on my chest, her hand resting over my heart, as though to make sure it was still hers. My sweet love. I kissed her fingers and put the palm back over my heart, willing her to know that it beats for no one else.
I wish I could stay in bed longer, but I do need to check in with Wei. Now that Ivy’s by my side and my mind is clear, I know I’m seriously behind on meetings and project updates.
The Band-Aid on her right hand bothers me. I should get it checked out again if it doesn’t heal by Monday. I hate it that after telling her I’d keep her safe, I let her get injured. I let my guard down too much last night, too drunk with relief over her coming back to me. I should’ve known better.
I shower, change into a white T-shirt and shorts and make my way downstairs with my phone. Bobbi is in the kitchen, pouring herself a mug of coffee. “I missed this. Your java, I mean. Hope you don’t mind that I let myself in. Thought it’d be best if I was here before you guys got up.”
“And I appreciate that thought. But didn’t I tell you to take a day off?”
“I did. Last night. So I’m back.” She looks pissed. “Next time, I’m going to shoot the motherfucker.” She takes a big swallow, then tilts her chin in the direction of the coffeemaker. “Why don’t you grab a cup?”
“I guess asking you to spend the rest of the day recovering isn’t going to work.”
“Nope. But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll let you feed me breakfast.”
I study her, searching for any signs of injury or discomfort. “You aren’t stiff or anything?”
“A little.” She rolls her shoulders. “But I’ll recover faster moving around than lying in bed all day.”
We drink our coffee in silence, and I check my emails and texts. Nothing seems to be that urgent.
Suddenly, Bobbi straightens. “Hey, Ivy!”
I turn around and see Ivy approaching us. She’s showered, but hasn’t bothered to fully dry her hair. Her sleeveless maxi dress is a bright burgundy, and it dampens my mood. The red tone is what she favors when she wants to feel in charge and control.
The stark white complexion from last night is gone, but I hate it that she feels the need to wear red on weekends. She usually wears her power color for work, when she has big project deadlines or important meetings.
“Why didn’t you get some more sleep?” I ask. “It’s Sunday.”
“I’m hungry,” she says. “Bobbi, are you okay? I was worried. That guy hit your car pretty hard.”
“I’ve had worse.” Bobbi smiles, then hands Ivy a coffee.
“You got a loaner already?”
“I have another Escalade.”
“Huh?” Ivy says.
“She has two,” I tell her.
“How come?”
Bobbi snorts. “Because a jackass client I had once didn’t like it that my original Escalade was red.”
“Why not?”
“Too hard to color-coordinate with his outfit.”
Ivy looks at her, then at me, then back at her. “Color…?”
“A model. Never met a guy that fussy before.” Bobbi rolls her eyes. “I told him if he wanted me to drive a black one, he’d have to buy it. So he did. I kept it after the assignment and used it all the time. The newer models are nicer.”
That sounds about right for an image-obsessed model, but Ivy’s gawking, which is funny. Bobbi must’ve been pretty tight-lipped about her former clients.
