“Tyson?”
I waited for him to respond as he threw his hand to his forehead and scrubbed down his face.
“What is it?” I asked again.
A sinking feeling hit my gut as he exhaled and his head fell forward.
“Nothing,” he finally said, shaking his head. He tossed the remote onto the couch and walked toward his spot at the counter.
“Do you know them?”
“Eat, Blue.” He picked up his fork, speared his eggs and shoved them into his mouth.
“Is it a case you’re working on?” I prodded when he still didn’t look at me after several more bites. I couldn’t explain the tension in the room or the chill in the air. What else could have caused such a visceral reaction in him?
He licked his lips and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I watched, still stunned and even more confused, as he swung his legs off the stool and went to the kitchen. He flung the refrigerator door open so hard it crashed into the wall, making me jump at the sudden noise.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered and reached for a white carton of orange juice.
The fridge door slammed shut, a kitchen cupboard was flung open, making the same banging sound the fridge had made moments before, and two glasses were slammed onto the countertop. I watched the whole thing, jaw slack and eyes wide, when he snapped his head up. His glare chilled the room further.
“Want some juice?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t thirsty. I was no longer hungry.
He didn’t react to my answer, just filled a glass, slammed it back with one large gulp, and then repeated the same moves again with the slamming of the fridge door when he returned the carton.
“I think I’m just going to head out,” I muttered, slinking off the stool when he prowled closer.
He looked ready to brawl, and I didn’t know what to do, what to say, but whatever had made him so angry, I wasn’t the person he wanted to talk to about it. Chewing the inside of my lip, I went to move around him when his hand curled around my forearm and stopped me.
“It has to do with a case, that’s all I can say.” I blinked at his hand on my arm and then forced myself to meet his eye.
He was looking at the counter, not me.
“Can’t talk about my cases, Blue.”
Of course he couldn’t. That made sense. But I was also getting the sense that something else was at play, something bigger and something darker.
Something I didn’t want any part of.
“Okay,” I whispered, and his grip on my arm finally loosened enough so I could walk away from him. “But I do need to get going.” He said nothing as I left the room and went to his bedroom to get dressed.
But I felt my steps grow heavier with every step I took.
—
I saw a shadow appear in the doorway before I heard Tyson. He knocked on the side of the doorframe and I looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. I was now dressed in my clothes from the night before, sans panties, and was drying my face with a towel. My skin screamed for moisturizer after I had washed off the remnants of yesterday’s makeup with simple hand soap, but I still felt better.
“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he said. His Adam’s apple dipped and his head fell forward as he sighed. “I meant what I said out there, I can’t talk about my cases.”
“But you do know something about those girls.”
“I have a client who is concerned about the disappearances of women, yes.”
It was the truth in a lie. I could tell. Yet I also understood in a way.
“You’re a lawyer, not an investigator, though,” I said, more to myself than him. I was missing a piece that would help his reaction make sense, but I still came up empty.
“My grandfather knows powerful people,” Tyson said, as if that would help.
I shook my head and dropped the subject. I wouldn’t get answers if he couldn’t give them, and he had made it clear that he couldn’t…or wouldn’t.
“Okay.” I nodded, resigned to being left in the dark. He would tell me when he was ready, at least I hoped. I understood the need for confidentiality, but Tyson and I used to tell each other everything. If he was honest about wanting to begin a relationship with me again, then I had to trust he’d tell me what he could, when he could.
“If you’re not still too angry with me,” he said, one side of his lips tilting into a grin, “would you like to shower with me?” He stepped forward, and I saw his anger ease from the darkness in his eyes.
I spun around, leaned against the bathroom vanity, and shamelessly took him in, almost completely naked besides his boxers. A thick bulge in them made it obvious that the shower idea wasn’t solely for cleanliness purposes. I couldn’t resist.
Perhaps, looking back, I could have.
I just really didn’t want to.
In the end, Tyson ended up late for work, and I was hours behind in my job searching. But I didn’t care. As he held me in his arms in the bathroom, drying me off after we showered, I asked him the one question that had been on the tip of my tongue when I first saw him that morning.
“My father is hosting my family’s annual benefit next week,” I said, looking at him in the mirror’s reflection. His shoulders tightened fractionally and he stood up behind me, meeting my gaze.
“Yes?”
“I’d like you to go with me.”
“You sure?” he asked, and his head tilted to the side.
I understood the hesitancy. Before, when we were kids, I had to hide my relationship with him. He hated it, but understood.
“I’m sure.”
He was what I wanted. It was early in our relationship—or whatever this was turning out to be—and we’d both changed a lot in the last ten years. But I wanted to see where this could go, and it couldn’t go anywhere if I dated someone else to make my parents happy. My mom would understand.
Eventually.
Hopefully.
With a brush of his lips against the side of my neck, and a twinkle in his dark blue eyes, Tyson smiled. “Okay, then. I’d love to go with you.”
Chapter 12
I hesitated at the threshold of Detroit Premier Agency, still uncertain if I wanted to be as forward as I was being, résumé in hand on Monday morning.
My father had set this up for me, and as uncertain as I was about using my real name, being an assistant at the best event planning agency would open a multitude of doors for me. It would be foolish to pass up this opportunity simply due to pride.
I blew out a breath and reached for the gold handle on the glass door, gathering confidence as I pulled it open and entered. The main receptionist area was eerily silent, and the slight creaking of the door and my footsteps on padded carpet were the only noise as I entered. I barely had time to gather my breath before a flurry of blond hair hustled down the hallway. She stopped as soon as she saw me, hovering by the empty receptionist desk, and I instantly recognized Simone. She had planned a variety of my family’s events when I was younger, and I was always impressed with her beauty and professionalism.
She quickly adjusted her hot pink eyeglasses on her slender nose and walked directly toward me.
“You’re hired,” she stated, in a no-nonsense fashion as soon as she reached me. “Follow me. I already have your computer up and running, but I’ll need to teach you how to log in. I’ll also need to show you how to sync our calendars together and the protocol for answering phones—”
“Excuse me?” I asked, aware that I was following her despite my shock.
She paused, spun around, and I got a quick peek of red-painted soles on her shoes before I even recognized the designer pantsuit she wore. Simone Pillar was gorgeous. As a child she amazed me. As an adult, she intimidated me.
“You are Gabriella Galecki, correct?”
“I am.” I paused and held out my résumé. “My father said—”
“I know your father.” She turned around and continued walking. With a quick wave of her hand, she beckoned me to follow.
“He told me you’d be stopping by. I hope you can do basic office work. My assistant’s water broke in the middle of the night, two weeks earlier than her due date, and I currently have everyone in the office trying to handle her current tasks. I’ve been looking to hire someone because Monica had been preparing to quit her job once her baby was born. We just thought we had more time. Your appearance here this morning is fortuitous.”
She stopped at a cubicle with walls that were just over waist high. Past the cubicle, I saw an office that I assumed was hers. Tables were cluttered with floral arrangements of various sizes. Fabric swatches covered a cream leather couch. “DPA” was stamped on the wall just behind the cubicle where she placed her hand.
“Ms. Pillar—,” I started before she interrupted me.
“Do you want the job?” Her eyes narrowed and I saw small flecks of brown in bright green eyes. “Your father told me you were looking.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I do…and I am. I’m just, surprised I guess.”
She shrugged once and reached out, snapping the résumé from my hand. “Consider yourself my temporary employee. If you survive the first two weeks, we’ll discuss full employment. I’ll have my human resources administrator stop by in a few minutes to go over pay.” She waved her hand dismissively, as if I couldn’t care less about money.