Carolyn laughs out loud, the sound petering out into a giggle in the end. “That guy cannot keep his dick in his pants. Is that why he needs PR services?”
“I’d imagine.” I can’t stop myself from blushing. “He just got promoted at Pierce Industries, so…”
She takes one look at my face, and her mouth drops open. “Why is your face so red? Did you sleep with him?” Her voice is rising in pitch. Before the end of this conversation it’s going to sound like she inhaled the helium from a balloon.
“Yes!” I cry, covering my face with my free hand.
“Quinn!” Carolyn admonishes, then dissolves into laughter. “It was just a one-time fling, right? I mean, he’s hot—I’ll be the first to admit it.”
“I don’t know if it’s a fling or not.”
I look back into her eyes, and her expression gets serious.
“You could lose your job over that, right?”
“Yeah.”
We’re both silent for a moment, deep in thought. Then Carolyn says, “Well, was he any good?”
“Oh, my God,” I groan. “He was so fucking good.”
We both laugh, so hard that tears come to my eyes. I brush one away as the laughter tapers off. “But seriously, Car—there’s just something—we have something that’s—”
She holds up one hand. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Her eyes are glittering with excitement. “I can’t believe the two of you hooked up. Well, I can believe it. The way you two were talking at the Swan…obviously there’s some serious attraction there.”
“I’d say.”
“Just…be careful, Quinn. He tends to be—”
“I know. I’m managing his reputation, remember?”
She nods again, a wistful look on her face
“There was one weird moment at his place, though.”
Carolyn perks back up. “What was it?”
“He had arranged dinner for…after.” My roommate covers her mouth with her hand to stifle another peal of laughter. I smile, shaking my head. “And while we were eating, I mentioned his tattoo.”
There’s a flash of confusion on Carolyn’s face, and then her expression softens into sympathy. “And he got weird about it?”
“Yeah. He totally froze up. Tried to cover up his reaction, but it was obvious I had touched upon a sensitive subject.”
She shifts position on the couch, clearing her throat. “There’s a reason for that.”
“Please share.”
Carolyn considers me thoughtfully. “Did you get a file about his background when you took him on as a client?”
“I haven’t read through all of it yet.”
“This will probably be in there somewhere, so I guess in the end I’m not telling you anything you won’t find out sooner or later.” She swallows. “Christian had a twin brother.”
“Had?”
“Had. Jess and I were best friends with the two of them in boarding school.”
A sinking sense of dread fills the pit of my stomach. “What happened to him?”
“He died. Just after their eighteenth birthday.”
I look down into my wine glass, my heart breaking for Christian. “How?”
“I heard it was a drug overdose, but Chris almost never talks about it.”
“Jesus. Is the tattoo for his brother?”
“No. Eli—his brother—had the same one. They got matching tattoos the same week that he died.”
“Oh, man.”
“Don’t worry about it, Q. If he moved on in the conversation, it’s probably fine.”
I bite at my lip, then nod. “We did go back to bed after that.”
Carolyn rolls her eyes with a gigantic grin. “I’d say it’s more than fine.”
My wine glass emptied, I stand up from the couch, suddenly bone-tired. “Thanks for telling me all that, Car. I’m going to head to bed.”
“Me, too.” She rises from the couch with a yawn and goes to turn out the lights.
I’m almost to my bedroom when she calls after me. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, though. I want updates!”
I go into my bedroom, unable to wipe the stupid smile off my face. “You’ll get them. Don’t you worry.”
Chapter 20
Christian
I have never met a more impressive woman than Quinn Campbell.
At our Wednesday meeting, she sits across her desk from me, cool and collected, as if I didn’t fuck her senseless just last night.
The fact that she can be so professional—friendly, even—in the face of overwhelming sexual tension makes me want to bend her over the desk and take her here and now, even more than I already did.
“This strategy will begin to unfold this week, if you don’t have any issues with the events or the timing,” she says, sliding the printed calendar of scheduled public appearances across the glass surface of her desk toward me. “The first opportunity I’ve arranged is on Friday at the Bowery Mission, helping to serve meals during the dinner shift. I have some press tentatively booked to be there so you can announce the donation you’re making in your mother’s memory.”