‘You play drinking games with your staff?’
Benjamin raised his glass and tilted it to her. ‘We’re not of the belief that there should be all work and no play.’
‘That happens at Infinity, too, Alexa?’
‘Oh, no,’ Alexa said with a shake of her head. ‘I let my employees have their fun on their own time. Making sure they have that time is more of a priority to me.’
‘What about team morale?’ Benjamin asked her.
‘Created through good pay cheques and a healthy working environment.’ She waited a beat. ‘In the Rough should try it.’
‘Ooh,’ Cherise said with a smile. ‘Harsh.’
‘And probably undeserved.’ Alexa smiled back, but didn’t look at Benjamin.
‘Probably?’ he said.
She directed the smile at him, but it wasn’t genuine. Nor was the teasing tone of his voice.
‘You guys are really cute together,’ Cherise said. ‘You’ve never thought about one big business?’
‘Oh, no,’ she said at the same time Benjamin chuckled with a shake of his head.
‘Why not?’ Cherise asked. ‘You’re both skilled. Can you imagine what you could create together?’
‘You’re only saying this because we’re both so wonderful and you’d rather not choose,’ Alexa teased, trying to ease the tension that was settling in her stomach. ‘If we joined forces you would be our second in command, and you’re drunk on the prospect of such power.’
‘Well, you’re not wrong.’
They laughed. The tension unfurled. Then there was a tap on the microphone. They turned to a small stage at the opposite end of the room as a tall woman with tattoos up and down her arms cleared her throat.
‘Thank you all for coming to Wild Acorn tonight.’
There were cheers from who Alexa assumed were regulars. They sat at a table in the front, all still fairly formally dressed as though they’d come straight from work. She could see that happening. The bar was down a quiet road in Somerset West near the Institute, and they’d followed Cherise to get there. There was no way they would have found it by themselves, and yet it seemed popular.
‘As most of you know, tonight is karaoke night—’ she paused for another round of cheers ‘—and for those of you who don’t, I thought I’d go over the rules.’
‘There are rules for karaoke?’ Alexa said under her breath.
‘One,’ the lady continued, seemingly answering Alexa, ‘you have to take this seriously. No making anyone uncomfortable with a bad rendition of some famous ballad.’ There was a beat. ‘Just kidding! The only rule is that you have fun. Sing from the heart, dance if you will, and the best performer tonight has their tab taken care of.’
‘Nice prize,’ Benjamin commented. He looked at Cherise. ‘Did you bring us here thinking you could make us sing?’
His smile faded when she answered, ‘Hoping to.’ She looked from Benjamin to Alexa. ‘Who’s going to go first?’
Chapter 12
‘I feel like I shouldn’t be watching this.’ He was about to reply, but Cherise’s voiced cracked on a high note and he winced instead. Alexa looked at him with a wrinkled nose. ‘Yeah, we definitely shouldn’t be watching this.’
‘It’s a bar. Where are we going to go?’
‘You’re saying we’re trapped.’ She took a long sip from her drink, studying Cherise as she executed some dance moves. ‘I didn’t think we would see how Cherise responds in a disaster at such an early stage.’
‘And she responds—’ he waited for Cherise to finish moonwalking ‘—poorly, apparently.’
Alexa gave a laugh. It wasn’t the first time she’d done it that evening, but it sounded like her first genuine one. He couldn’t be critical of it, of her, when he knew he was the reason she wasn’t enjoying herself. And he felt terrible because of it.
With each sip of alcohol, he’d gained clarity. By the end of his second glass, he’d realised he was conflating his insecurities about trusting himself with his insecurities about trusting Alexa. He didn’t know if she was fooling him; he didn’t know if he could trust his gut when it told him she wasn’t. His third glass told him he had been a jerk today, trying to figure it out. He started ordering water instead of alcohol, and was now wondering what the best way was to apologise.
‘Look, Alexa—’
‘Your turn!’ she exclaimed, cutting him off.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘I didn’t say I was going to go up there.’
‘You didn’t say you weren’t either.’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘I’m not the one asking you to go on stage.’
She tilted her head, gesturing to Cherise, who was eagerly waving at them.
‘That wave could be for you, too.’
‘It could,’ she acknowledged, ‘but since you’re volunteering...’
‘I’m not—’
In a movement quicker than he could have defended himself against, she stuck a hand underneath his arm and poked his armpit. Hard. The result was both surprise and amusement—he’d always been ticklish there. It was also a hand which popped into the sky, making it seem as though he were volunteering.
‘Clever.’ He stood, walked until he was so close to her he could smell the mint on her breath from her virgin mojito. ‘But I’m clever, too.’
She tilted her head up, her eyes cool. ‘Not everything is a competition.’
‘No, it’s not.’ He lowered slightly, bringing their faces close. ‘This isn’t me competing. It’s getting revenge.’
‘Revenge?’
‘You’re going to do this with me.’
She smiled. It was mocking and unconcerned and—though he had no idea how or why—incredibly sexy.
‘Oh, no, Benjamin, I will not be doing this with you.’
‘Except—’ he lifted a hand and tucked a stray curl behind her ear ‘—you are. Otherwise this would seem like a seduction to anyone looking.’
She pressed up on her toes, bringing their faces closer. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘No.’ It was though. And somehow he was being seduced, too. ‘It’s a request to do a duet.’
‘I’m not doing a duet.’
‘Not even for your fake boyfriend?’
Her lips parted. He brushed a thumb over it. When hot air touched his skin, he inhaled sharply. Then exhaled, because it felt as though he’d inhaled a copious amount of desire for her, too. His brain scrambled trying to remember what he’d intended when he stood up. To make it seem as if he was asking her to join him? To touch her and remind himself that she was the person she seemed to be, independent and not manipulative and certainly not who his fears made her out to be?
She took his hand, pulled it away from her face. ‘This isn’t going to happen.’ The statement was ambiguous enough that it made him wonder what she was talking about until she clarified. ‘I’m not making a fool of myself up there.’
He swallowed. Right. Of course she was talking about the singing and not...whatever had just happened.
‘It’ll be fun.’
‘How?’
‘We’ll sing together. We’ll both sing poorly together, I mean.’
‘Yet another reason not to do it.’
‘We’re not auditioning for a singing competition,’ he said, frustrated now. ‘We’re only singing.’
‘No, I meant that if you sing badly, I refuse to sing with you.’ She stood, emptying her glass as she did. ‘I will not let my perfect soprano be tarnished by you.’
He couldn’t even argue with that since he’d said he sang poorly. Then he realised she was moving to the stage, and he blinked. Why had she been arguing with him if she intended on singing? Was he really that awful that she didn’t want to be on stage with him?
Yes, probably, he thought, sitting back down and offering Cherise a weak smile when she joined him.
He’d been terrible to Alexa all day—save for that morning. But that morning had felt as though they were in a bubble, and once things had got real, the bubble had popped and he...
He’d fallen hard to the ground while Alexa somehow stayed afloat, looking down at him in pity. Disappointment. Could he even blame her?
‘I thought you were going to go up with her.’
‘Me, too.’
‘Your seduction didn’t work?’ Cherise gave him a sly grin. He smiled back weakly.
‘Apparently not. I’m going to have to work on it.’
‘Probably,’ she said, bringing her beer to her lips. ‘She doesn’t seem like the type of person to fall for the usual stuff. She’s tougher, but that kind of makes it mean more, in my opinion.’
He thought about it as he turned to the stage, watching as Alexa waited for the music to play. A couple of guys in the front were eyeing her in appreciation, and he had the absurd urge to get up and shield her from their view. But that made no sense, the desire less so, and instead he kept looking at Alexa.
She looked comfortable there, her clothing still strange, still chic. She’d tied her hair up again, but it was higher than it had been in the morning, piled onto the top of her head as if she’d put it there and forgotten about it. The waves refused to be tamed that way, though, and they fell over her forehead, created the shortest and strangest fringe he’d ever seen. It was also the cutest. Hell, she was cute. And sexy, and enticing, and he was pretty sure he had a problem.
Then she started to sing and he stopped thinking about that altogether.
Her voice was smooth and clear. Perfectly pitched on the higher notes; soulfully deep on the lower notes. She swayed in time to the beat, slowly, smiling when the lyrics were saucy or snarky.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Cherise said somewhere halfway into the song. ‘She sings like it’s what she does for a living.’
He agreed, but he was too enamoured to respond. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, his ears thanked him profusely, and his mind was incredibly glad he hadn’t spoiled this with his own voice, which was comparable to a cat’s on a good day. When she was done, the entire room exploded with applause. Everyone was looking at her in appreciation now. She smiled brightly, happily, and he couldn’t quite believe she was the same woman who could skin him and lay the spoils on the floor as she walked over them.
Damn if that brightness, that happiness didn’t draw him in as much as her sharp wit.
* * *
‘Stop looking at me like that,’ Alexa said as soon as Cherise got into the taxi she’d called. Cherise was having her brother use her spare key to pick up her car, since she wasn’t in any condition to drive. ‘It’s unnerving.’
‘I just... I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that voice away.’
‘I wasn’t hiding it away.’ She hoped to heaven her skin wasn’t glowing at the compliment the way her stupid heart was. ‘It’s never come up. Why would I bring it up?’
‘Because it sounded like that?’ He gestured with a thumb to the bar behind them. ‘I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to do that.’
‘Easy. I opened my mouth, and instead of speaking, I sang.’
‘Like an angel.’ She laughed. ‘I’m not even mad you’re being snarky,’ he said, his voice filled with wonder. ‘You should be singing.’
‘Do you know,’ she said after a moment, ‘I’m really good at maths? I scored in the top five per cent of the province in my final year of school. I had a couple of bursaries to study maths that were generous.’
She didn’t mention that her parents had applied for all those bursaries. They’d been so disappointed when she’d chosen not to take any of them that they hadn’t even cared that she’d chosen business management instead. Well, they had cared. If they hadn’t, she would have gone to culinary school from the beginning.
‘Congratulations?’ Benjamin’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
She laughed. ‘My point is that just because I’m good at something doesn’t mean I want to do it for a living. I love what I do. I love the challenge of running a restaurant. I love working with my chefs to make efficient meals that are delicious and new and...’ She broke off, feeling heat spread over her cheeks. ‘Anyway. I won’t be leaving to sing any time soon.’
‘A pity,’ he said with a small smile. ‘But I suppose, since you’re good at running a business, too, the world isn’t completely missing out on your talents.’
Somehow, it didn’t feel like a compliment.
‘I should get going. The ride back home is long.’
‘Yeah.’
But he didn’t let her pass him, and, since he was standing in front of her, she kind of needed him to.
‘Benjamin—’
‘Is there anything you aren’t good at?’
And there it was.
There isn’t one thing you’re bad at. Nothing. You do everything well. It’s annoying.
Exhausting, too, she’d wanted to tell her brother. She wouldn’t call it lucky that she was good at the things her parents thought she should be good at. It was half luck, half hard work, and all exhaustion. Her parents had come to expect her to be good at everything, so she didn’t think she could fail. If she did, they would care for her even less than they already did. As a kid, she couldn’t bear the thought of it.
That was the one thing she wasn’t good at: accepting that her family wasn’t what she wanted them to be. She tried and tried to make her parents proud, but nothing she did would ever be enough. She had tried with Lee, too, because he was the only one who would understand how their parents’ pressure could become unbearable. But he’d had no interest. For every outreached hand was a slap in the form of a record she’d set that he’d broken, or a mark of hers that he’d beaten. When he’d bought the building out from under her she’d finally decided to stop reaching out her hand, and hoped it would mean no more slapping.
Except it still came. And apparently through proxies now, too.
‘I should really get home.’
She moved past him but he caught her wrist. She looked at him.
‘You’re not going to answer?’
‘What would you like me to say?’ She was proud of the stiffness in her voice. It meant the thickness in her throat hadn’t tainted her speaking. ‘Yes, I’m good at everything. Except making rational decisions, like when I pretended you were my boyfriend. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be in this position. I wouldn’t be in this position.’
He frowned, and let go of her arm. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...’ He exhaled. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.
‘Okay.’ She swallowed. ‘Now can I leave?’
Chapter 13
He wanted to say sorry. For acting like a jerk the day before; for making those assumptions the night before. He arrived at the Institute early in the hope of finding a moment to talk with her again before the course started. No such luck. Which wasn’t a problem—until the start of the class came and both Alexa and Cherise weren’t there. Cherise rushed in ten minutes late, looking like hell.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘My car broke down on the way. And I probably drank too much last night, made a fool of myself, and I promise you it won’t happen again.’
‘Sorry to hear about the car,’ he said. ‘About last night... You don’t have to apologise. You’re not working for us yet.’
‘But I would like to, and I seem to have handed you reasons not to hire me.’
He smiled. ‘It’s nice to know you actually want this.’
‘I really do.’ She smiled, but it faded almost immediately. ‘Although I think I spoilt my chances with Alexa. I’m pretty sure I’m the reason she’s sick.’
‘She’s sick?’
‘Yeah.’ She gave him a strange look. ‘She didn’t tell you?’
‘No.’ When he
realised why she was so surprised, he cleared his throat. ‘We’re supposed to have a date after this today. I think maybe she didn’t want to tell me in case I cancelled.’
‘Oh, that’s so sweet,’ Cherise said. ‘You guys are cute.’
‘Thanks.’
They fell into silence as the instructor began to guide them in a brand-new decorating nightmare. He couldn’t really focus. He was too busy thinking about Alexa. He stumbled his way through the class, but that was pretty usual for him. He did notice that Cherise’s hangover, and the rough morning she’d had, hadn’t affected her concentration. She did the work perfectly, patiently, without one mistake. Which told him she wouldn’t bring personal problems into the workplace. He was almost thankful for the night they’d had before.
She seemed forgiving of his lack of decorating skills, and by the end of it he knew their one-on-one time had done wonders for their professional working relationship. He even suspected that he might have had an edge over Alexa. It made him feel guilty. Not that he had any reason to feel guilty. He hadn’t orchestrated her sickness, had he? He hadn’t done anything so that he could spend time with Cherise while Alexa stayed home, sick, probably unable to breathe, her nose blocked, chest phlegmy...
He grunted, got into his car, and started it. Then he grunted again, because he already knew where he was going to, even before he started driving to the pharmacy. When he got there, he started grabbing things that usually helped him when he was feeling under the weather. He walked past an aisle, paused, looked down it. Saw a bunch of pregnancy and maternity things. Vitamins, baby bottles. He looked at the things in his hands. She probably couldn’t use any of this, being pregnant. He went back to the pharmacist, and got fewer things. Bought ingredients to make some good chicken soup. Some fresh bread, too.
None of that made it easier when he was finally in front of her door. He felt as though he was intruding on her space. She obviously didn’t want him to know she was sick, or she would have told him. Now he was pitching up at her door, assuming that she wanted to see him? Especially after how he’d treated her the day before?
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