"Oh."
There's a piece of...something...across the back of the couch. Maybe a towel. Feels like a towel. Whatever—I wipe my mouth with it and pat down my damp shirt. "I meant we should fake it." If I was a cartoon right now, I'd have the biggest light bulb above my head. Which is weird. Fuck you, Nickelodeon. "You can be my fake girlfriend!"
She has the kind of expression you get when a cat brings you something dead. "Your what? Why? Aeron, why don't you just get a real one?"
"Because," I announce, holding my arms out, "* makes me stupid."
"Pussy makes every man stupid."
"I'm special," I slur. No, really. I am. Trust me. "Come on, firecracker. Imagine. I'm hot fucking shit right now and it's only going to get better—give me a year and I'll own me some newspapers. Whole empire. You're already my first lady, right? Montgomery's got his shrivelled husk—sorry, wife—"
She titters.
"—And what I need is to not have a shrivelled husk. Or a wife, 'cause I'm too young and everyone will just wait for a divorce."
"You're not really selling it to me."
"Tuij." I put the champagne down, haul my legs off the couch, rest my elbows on my knees and my face on my fists—really look her in the eye...when I can focus. "I'm serious."
"You're drunk," she counters.
"I can be drunk and serious. Come on. You're a clever girl, you know it makes sense."
"If I'm your fake girlfriend," she says quietly, "how am I gonna have a real boyfriend?"
"You're not. I feel like—I dunno. Might give the wrong impression, huh?" I grin at her. She loves my grins; look at her mouth softening, her feet rubbing together. "Middle America needs monogamy. If I'm gonna sell them shares, they need the whole shebang."
"You just said shebang."
"The champagne said shebang. Now shut up. Come on, Tuij. I'll keep you in style, I promise, clothes, shoes. How about an upgrade on that apartment, huh? It'll be like being a really high class hooker, but you don't have to fuck me."
She puts her face in her hands. "Right. What a deal."
I don't think she realises what a favour I'm doing her there. "You know, I can probably find another assistant who'd go for it. Some nice little graduate. A yes girl."
"Oh, fuck you." She peers through her fingers, antsy and suspicious. "You hate yes girls."
"I hate most girls," I say matter-of-factly. With the fire of a thousand fucking suns. "But I don't hate you, firecracker. And I need you to stop me being stupid the same way you do in the office every day. What do you say?"
"I don't know."
I lower my voice. "I've done a lot for you. Everything. And I don't ask for much in return."
"I'll regret this," she murmurs.
"Probably."
"My parents are gonna think it's weird."
I cough. "Your parents are in Finland."
"Yeah. Takes a lot for them to think stuff is weird, but this...ah, fuck it." She holds her hands up and lets loose a shrill, jagged little laugh. "Do I have to sign in blood?"
Jesus.
Don't fucking tempt me.
#6
Honesty (noun): the absence of all fear
At three minutes past eleven on Tuesday, Tuija struts into my office like she's on a runway. Each footstep is a skidding bullet; she barely even blinks.
"Nice of you to make an appearance," I mutter.
"Voila." She drops a single silver key on my desk with a clatter. A yellow Post-It note flutters down in succession, landing on the edge of my keyboard. "Happy?"
The key, no doubt, is for the front door of Leontine's East Side apartment. The Post-It bears numbers for door and alarm codes, as well as an ETA courtesy of Leo's doorman.
I sit back and appraise Tuija, my arms folded. "Fast work, firecracker."
She raises one red eyebrow. The rest of her face is utterly blank. "If you will give me permission to fuck someone." Then she turns back, tossing her wavy hair in a limp gesture of dismissal.
"I hope he was a gentleman."
A beat. She stills in the doorframe. "What makes you think it was a he?"
***
My first mistake was to think with my cock.
I didn't need Leo's brain, and so I didn't consider it. Now, as I slip through the front door of her apartment and bash the alarm code into the panel on the opposite wall, I realise how much I failed to question. I confused sex with honesty, and we haven't even had it...yet.
The moment I laid eyes on her, it felt like we were three seconds from a fuck. Always does. Some men call this teasing, but it's my favourite part of the chase. My second mistake was to indulge myself too long in it. If you enjoy something enough, it probably has the power to kill you...God, flesh tempts me to forget this. Wants me to.