by Piper Rayne
Sierra slides out another chair and sits down. I should have stood and pulled out the chair for her. I do it for women I have no respect for. I should definitely do it for her.
“No television show?” I ask.
She shakes her head, her gaze falling to Blanca. “Not tonight. I’m not in the mood.”
I hook my hand on her chair and slide it closer to me. “Good.”
Then it’s me who gets the best boyfriend smile, but the difference is, I’m not her boyfriend.
“Hey, E, I have something to show you.” Blanca stands and holds her hand out for Ethan’s.
“Nothing bad can follow that sentence.” Ethan accepts her hand.
“Unless it’s a pregnancy test,” Sierra calls out, laughing.
“Bite your tongue!” Blanca says.
They disappear on the other side of the building where we can’t see them. I wrap my hand around Sierra’s neck and pull her to me for a kiss. Just like last night, the pull between us is there from the moment my lips brush hers. She sinks into my hold and I slide my tongue through her parted lips. Her breath now tastes like the sweetness of white wine.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” I murmur with our lips millimeters apart.
“Why didn’t you?”
With my hand still resting on the back of her neck, I draw back to see her eyes. There’s self-doubt there, which surprises me.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
She leans back in her chair, my arm falling down. With her concentration on her wine glass, she talks to it more than to me. “My friends think we should set things straight. What’s happening between us?”
I sip my beer, the coolness coating my now-dry throat. I should’ve figured this would be a complication when I asked to move in. Truth is, my life is so fucked up, the last thing I should do is get involved with someone.
“What do you think is happening?” I ask, being a coward and throwing it back at her.
The legs of her chair screech back on the cement, and she walks to the edge of the roof, looking at the night sky. “Please don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I follow her.
“Try and deflect.”
Giggling on the other side of the rooftop can be heard and her eyes fall shut for a moment.
“Do you still have feelings for him?” I ask and find myself holding my breath, waiting for her answer.
Her forehead wrinkles. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
She huffs. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Good.” Why is that good? I have no idea, but I didn’t like the idea that Ethan and Blanca seem to bother her.
But jealousy can’t be the reason I fuck her tonight. I live in a world with no consequences, but there are some here. The fact that I slept with this girl last night and now she’s my roommate is a consequence that never occurred to me when my only goal was not to go home to my dysfunctional family.
“You leave in two months,” she says.
“I do.”
“So I’d rather not get serious with you.”
“Okay. Me too.” I fail to mention that the reason why is because I’ve been promised to someone else.
“Friends then?”
“Friends who kiss?” I push, knowing two months in an apartment with Sierra will lead to a serious case of blue balls.
She shrugs. Something crosses her eyes. It looks a lot like pain. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
I sigh and turn her toward me. “So just friends?”
“I think that’s best.”
Although I would have loved to see what would transpire between us, she’s right. I can’t promise her a future. Sleeping together would be fun, but where would that leave her when I return to Sandsal and get married?
“Okay.” I hold out my hand. “Friends.”
She slides her hand into mine and I refuse the urge to yank her into my arms and kiss her until she’s begging me to take her to bed.
“Friends.” She turns her head away from me and sips the rest of her wine. “I need a refill.”
I watch her back retreat as she leaves the rooftop and the door shuts. Disappointment seeps into my chest at her departure, but I turn my attention to the city of Cliffton Heights lit up in lights below and finish my beer.
I’m not surprised when Ethan and Blanca return from the other side of the roof and Sierra has yet to return. Maybe I should see if they have a spare room I can stay in, because I have no idea how I’m going to live alongside Sierra without actually having her.
My phone buzzes.
Felicia: Mom and Dad will be divorcing when you return. Congratulations King. FYI, Princess Adelaide thinks you’re doing a top-secret humanitarian expedition.
So that seals my fate. The universe is telling me I should only be friends with Sierra, because in two months, I’ll rule as king—after I marry a woman I don’t know and don’t love.
I take another glance at the stars before I leave the rooftop.
Fucking universe.
Chapter Thirteen
Sierra
* * *
Walking into the station to start my day, I’m already aware that it’s going to be a shitty day. My day started by coming face-to-face with Adrian as I stepped out of the shower. He’s not used to sharing a bathroom or he was still half asleep when he opened the door just as I pushed open the shower curtain. I watched his eyes light with flames as his gaze moved over my naked body until his already morning wood became stiffer in his boxers. I shut the curtain and turn on the cold water.
Then Andrews Bagels was out of my jalapeño bagels because of some shortage. After Mrs. Andrews apologized and laid on the guilt that she hadn’t seen me in a while, I had to spend ten minutes convincing her that I’m really okay with the Blanca and Ethan thing.
Then I walk into my office and end up in an elevator with Kay and Jack. I swear they’re having a secret relationship.
“Sierra!” Kay’s overdramatized announcement of my arrival says I probably caught them making out or something equally gross.
Kay’s at least thirty years younger, freshly out of college, while Jack has been divorced four times over with six kids between his four ex-wives. If she’s looking for a sugar daddy, I can assure her it’s not with a man who has to pay three-fourths of his check to child support.
“Good morning.” I smile because I can’t very well call them out on it.
Jack’s cheeks are red and he’s dodging any eye contact with me.
Yup, they’re fucking and that means I’m fucked. An interview with Prince Adrian Marx doesn’t come close to twenty-three-year-old pussy to a man in his fifties.
The elevator opens and I exit with a sigh, happy to be free from the uncomfortable ride.
“Hey, Mick.” I wave to our receptionist, who holds up his hand for me to stop while he presses buttons, asking people to hold.
I wait until he puts down the receiver and falls back in his chair. “I can’t do the job of twenty, you know what I’m saying?” He says it loud enough so Jack hears it as he walks by.
Kay stops as well. “Any messages?”
She smiles at me with a grin that says she’s happy I discovered she’s screwing our boss.
Good for her. Does she want me to do a cheer?
“No.” Mick’s tone is annoyed, and if she wasn’t standing right here, I’d totally high-five him.
“See you at the staff meeting, Sierra.” Her hand brushes my shoulder and I fake a smile back.
“They’re screwing,” I tell Mick, my work BFF.
“I told you they were last month, and you wouldn’t believe me.” He crosses his arms and raises one eyebrow. It’s impressive how he can do that.
“You can’t trust Gill saying he saw Jack’s hand squeeze her ass after a segment. The man told you he could do that eating six saltines challenge and what happened when I brought in saltines?”
“He almost choked to death,” Mick deadpans.
&nb
sp; “That’s right.”
Mick’s eyes widen. “But in this case, Gill was right.”
“Most likely.” My fists clench. “Ugh, I mean if Georgia retires now while their relationship is all hot and steamy, I’m screwed.”
“ Yeah, you are.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
He puts one hand up in front of him. “Hey, a work spouse should not lie.”
I put up my hand to match him. “True that. Thanks for always saying how it is.”
He gives me a high-five. “Lunch at Hilda’s? It’s baked potato soup day.”
My body warms just thinking about that soup. It’s the best she has to offer, but she only offers it twice a month. I think it’s some marketing ploy, but it works. The line can be out the door. “Let’s leave fifteen minutes early just in case she runs out.”
“I’ll have my coat on.” Mick winks.
I wave, heading down the hall, only to pass Kay walking out of the small kitchen, carrying two coffees.
“Jack’s?” I ask.
“Yep, he asked me to get him a cup. With the shortage of assistants here, it’s the least I can do.”
I’d love to yank her by the inch-long roots of her dyed blonde hair and tell her she’s a disgrace to all women, but instead I smile sweetly. “You’re such a company asset. Make sure Jack thanks you the way you deserve.” I wink and turn, heading to my cubicle.
A half hour later, my phone buzzes with Jack’s number.
“Hey, Jack.”
“Can you come to my office for a moment?”
“Sure thing.”
During the one-minute trip down the hall to Jack’s office, I half wonder if he’s going to ask me to keep the relationship quiet. Maybe he’ll try to barter, and I can say I want the anchor spot. A girl can hope, okay?
I knock lightly on his open door.
His salt-and-pepper head lifts from the paper in front of him. “Sierra, please have a seat.”
I walk into the room.
“Shut the door please.”
Cue my stomach squeezing so tight I might throw up. The only other time Jack has asked me to shut the door was when he asked me about a segment I did about penis implants. Can we say awkward?
Nothing good will come from this closed door situation. But I shut it and sit in the chair in front of him, leaning back to appear relaxed, as if all my insides aren’t contracting.
“Thanks.” He picks up his pen. “Georgia has decided to retire. This is quiet news because she’s not going to announce it for a month, but I told her I needed to get things in place in the interim. I know you’ve been here the same amount of time as Kay and you two are next in line for a promotion. But I want to be transparent—I like having you in the field. You find interesting stories that pique people’s interest.”
I literally bite my tongue to keep from saying that’s only because he’s fucking Kay and my legs are sealed shut where he’s concerned.
“I’m going to decline outside interviews, so it’s really just between you and Kay, but I can’t give you an answer—”
“I’ve got an interview with Prince Adrian Marx,” I ramble before I remember I can’t actually air it until after the two months are over.
He looks up from his desk with surprise. “How did you manage that?”
“I won a date with him through a charity.”
“And he agreed to an interview?” I nod. “Sounds like the date went well.”
I think for a moment back to that night. Unless the audience wants to know how long and thick the prince’s dick is, then I need to sell the interview and not what happened on the date. Too bad just thinking about Adrian’s dick has my core pulsing with longing.
“Oh, well, it wasn’t a big deal. He was all proper behavior and practiced answers. But he did agree to an in-depth interview that we can do in two months.”
“Two months?” His bushy eyebrows rise.
“Unfortunately, but we could tease it out. Pique the viewers’ interest in the meantime.”
He nods, his gaze shifting out his window at the view of the lake. “This is my problem, you understand that, right?”
“What?”
“The fact that you get people others can’t. You’re a go-getter and don’t know the word no. If I replace Georgia with you, I fear you’ll die a slow death in that job. You’re meant for the action, not a boring teleprompter job.”
Bullshit. With anchor, there’s a shit-ton more money growing in my bank account.
“I’m sure you can find someone to replace me. Have you thought about making Kay a reporter and taking her off weather? She’s resourceful in her endeavors to rise to the top as well.”
His stare holds mine for a moment.
Is he going to take my bait and confront me on it?
“Well, I just wanted to let you and Kay know that you’re both being considered for the promotion, but I won’t make any announcements about Georgia publicly for a while. Back to this prince thing, get with the art department and tease the public with the interview. You’ll have to decide what angle you’re taking.”
“Angle?” I stand and rest my hands on the back of the chair.
“What’s the edge? We need a story to go along with the interview. If they wanted to know how he lived, they’d google the man. You need to dig up something interesting.”
I nod. Right. He’s so right. Though I don’t have anything with a hook right now. The only thing I really know about him is he’s amazing at sex and wanted a reprieve from his duties for two months.
Maybe that’s where the story lies. Why did he want the reprieve?
The screech of the fire alarm and a billow of smoke nails me in the face when I open the apartment door. Waving at the smoke, I spot Adrian with a smoking cookie sheet in his hand.
I put down my bags and open the windows before grabbing the broom from the closet and hitting the smoke detector over and over again, unable to see the button due to the smoke filling the room. “What are you making?”
He takes the broom from me. “What are you doing?”
“I have to hit the button so the sound stops.”
He finds it the first time. Lucky try.
Once the sound stops, the ringing in my ears subsides too.
“I was trying to make bagels. Evan said she wanted me to try all the different kinds, but I think I put them in too long or something.”
“You think?” I wave at the charred bagels on the sheet. “Have you ever cooked?”
“Yes, of course.” He shrugs.
I wait for the real answer.
“Well, no. I eat leftover pizza, but that’s cold.”
“Let’s go get you some bagels to try.” I dispose of the cookie sheet in the sink and leave a note for Rian on what happened. “Also, there’s a toaster in the cupboard if you ever want to toast something again.”
I show him where it is, and he appears a bit chagrined. It’s a cute look on him.
We leave our apartment, and it’s not until we’re in broad daylight that I notice he cut his hair and didn’t shave today.
At the stoplight, I run my fingers through the short hair at the back of his head. “I can’t believe you cut it.”
He nods. “Knox took me to his barber. I wasn’t going to get it this short.” His hand falls to the barely-there hair.
I chuckle. “Mistake number one. Don’t go to a cop’s barber.”
He laughs. “You’re right again.”
“Well, what can I say.” I examine his scruff and realize it might make him even sexier, but I keep that thought to myself. “I’m starved, so this is a good thing. I’ve only eaten a muffin since this morning.”
“No lunch?”
We cross the street.
“No, the deli I go to was out of the baked potato soup I wanted, and acting like a pure brat, I refused to eat anything else.” We reach the other side of the road and I look at him. “It’s been a bad day.”
“Bad from the sta
rt. I had a raging hard-on all morning.”
We share a smile, and my belly warms that I wasn’t the only one affected by our encounter this morning.
We walk into the Bagel Place as I feel the need to glance over my shoulder like maybe Seth will see me. I have no idea if the girl behind the counter is Evan or not, but since she doesn’t say anything to Adrian, my assumption is she’s not.
“We’ll have one of everything and an extra jalapeño,” I order for us, and Adrian’s hand moves to his wallet. “No, I got this. Save your money for Rian’s new cookie sheets.”
He laughs and allows me to pay.
“Also all the flavors of cream cheese. He’s starting here tomorrow.” I point at Adrian.
The girl looks at him as though he’s available. I guess he is, but she should consider that he might be with me. “Evan didn’t tell me she’d hired someone. I don’t usually work here, but she made me. I’m Elsie, her sister.”
Adrian shakes her hand. She’s definitely younger than us, by about a decade.
“She’s making you try each flavor, huh? She makes every new employee do that. Don’t throw up.” She slides the tray over, and Adrian takes it, his dreamy smile on display.
We find a booth in the back corner, and I eat both jalapeño bagels after Adrian tried it and said it wasn’t for him. He allows me to vent about Kay and Jack and all my drama. Once we’re finished and he has all his notes—yes, he took notes about the bagels on his phone—he puts away our tray and we say goodbye to Elsie.
His hand falls to my lower back, and we walk out like a normal couple even though we’re anything but.
Chapter Fourteen
Adrian
* * *
It’s my first day of work and Evan has been patient and understanding, though I’m not sure that will last now that I’ve burned a second sheet of bagels.
“Hey, Evan!” I call out to her mid-morning, well after the rush—during which she only allowed me to fill boxes and cream cheese containers for the customers.