Heaving an exasperated sigh, I texted to remind her I couldn’t have private conservations during working hours and promised to write an uber long email, then went about checking Jett’s business correspondence when my cell rang.
I knew it was Sylvie before I even glanced at the screen. Sitting on my bed, I pressed the response button.
“What the heck, Brooke,” her voice greeted me. “Italy’s only across the big pond, but the way you keep ignoring me, it might as well be situated on the moon and you have no reception.” I could hear the sulk in her voice. Sylvie in a disgruntled state was never good. She could go on and on for hours.
“I’m so sorry. This job’s been extremely demanding and—” I trailed off, letting her fill in the gaps. It was a harmless, white lie; Jett came with the job and he had been demanding a lot of my time and energy. Not that I complained.
“Mayfield has you working around the clock?” Her tone gave me a preview of the sarcasm about to erupt. “Seriously, Brooke, if I didn’t know any better I’d bet my designer wardrobe on you fucking the boss.”
I laughed nervously. “You’re hilarious.” My tone came out all wrong, because a moment later Sylvie gasped and the line went silent. I held my breath as my mind tried to come up with something—anything—to steer her away from her spot-on guess. Once she grew suspicious, she was like a hound dog that wouldn’t back off from a hot trail. Come to think of it, she was worse.
“Okay, that was about the most laughable thing you’ve ever said.” My tongue tripped over itself to assure Sylvie that nothing was going on. Unfortunately, Sylvie had an uncanny ability to read between the lines.
“What does he look like?”
“Who?” I knew playing dumb wouldn’t be of much help.
“Mayfield.”
“Old.”
Sylvie clicked her tongue. The sound reverberated down the line right into my ear, making me cringe. “Please! Age never stopped anyone. Guys are like ripe wine: the older they grow, the more attention they get.”
I forced a chuckle out of my throat, like I knew what she was talking about. Truth was, I didn’t since I could count all the guys I ever slept with on the fingers of one hand, and they sure hadn’t been the sugar daddy type.
“So,” Sylvie continued. “You’re doing the dirty with the boss, and I don’t like it.”
“What? No.”
“Brooke. I know you better than you know the back of your hand.”
She didn’t, or so I liked to believe. I sighed into the line. If I couldn’t convince her, the best way to get her off my back was to cut the call short. “I’m sorry about not calling or texting. I’m just tired.” True. “And this job’s been weird so far.” Also true. “I’ll make it up to you as soon as I get home next week.” I had no doubt Sylvie would bully me into making that part true as well. “Please, can we just leave it at that?”
It was the second time I asked this question in twenty-four hours. Just like Jett, Sylvie had no idea when to back off.
“No.”
“You told me to have fun.”
“Yeah, but not thousands of miles away where I couldn’t kick the guy’s ass if he tried to hurt you.”
I smiled at the picture Sylvie’s words conjured before my eyes. As a Pilates goddess with muscles of steel, she sure as hell could do some major damage. Too bad she didn’t use all that power on Ryan.
“Look,” Sylvie continued, “I’m worried about you being all alone in a different country with some guy you don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Because—” she blew out her breath, pausing “—you’re not like me. You have feelings and standards and you deserve more than that. Promise you’ll stay safe and tell me everything when you get back?”
I nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“One last word of advice, guys like him and Ryan are trouble. Good looks and successful careers are a dangerous combination.”
Trouble—wasn’t that the word I used upon meeting Jett for the first time? I frowned. “Thanks.”
“Okay.” She didn’t sound too happy to drop the subject, but it was good enough for me. The air was clear. I had managed to dodge a bullet and buy myself a few more days before I’d be Sylvie-interrogated. “Have you found out who sent the Manila envelope still cluttering our expensive coffee table in the hall?” she asked, finally changing the subject. “I’m really scared to sleep with that thing inside the house. It looks like something from Law & Order that’s ready to blow up.”
I rolled my eyes, grateful she couldn’t see it. “It’s only a letter, for crying out loud. Just open it if it bothers you so much.”