Chapter 13
13
I ’d been trapped in a foggy mental haze since my date— decoying, I had to keep reminding myself—with Robert. Only a day had passed since my time with the vampire, but I was chomping at the bit to see him again.
Sunday was the one morning of the week I allowed myself to sleep in, but today it seemed that was not to be the case. I’d spent a sleepless night obsessing over whether Robert had thought of me at all or if he’d seen our time together as merely a business transaction, which, I supposed, it was regardless of him wanting me or not. I’d tossed and turned as the light outside my window changed from black to purple, then brightened to orange, wishing there was a way to contact him that wouldn’t violate my terms of employment with Dignitary or make me look like a desperate stalker.
Hearing Liz zipping around the apartment, I gave up on the notion of sleep, throwing the covers off my body with a groan. Who was I to assume that a man like Robert would have the tiniest amount of interest in someone like me? What could I offer that he didn’t already have? He’d flirted with me during our night together, but so what? Flirting was hardly a marriage proposal, was it?
I flopped on my side and groaned into my pillow. Hopeless. Utterly hopeless.
“Oh my god!” Liz barged into my room, startling me half to death. She was yelling in such a riled manner that I could only assume the worst, like the whole place was going up in flames.
I lurched out of bed and flung a robe on over my pajamas. “What’s happening? Say something!”
“This!” she shrieked, waving the Sunday edition of San Francisco Society Times , a small newspaper produced by writers known for giving every article a scandalous edge. “What the hell, Olivia?”
“Why are you shouting?” I snatched the paper from her, my words trailing off as I began to understand what all the fuss was about. I could only make out the first half of the front-page headline: BILLIONAIRE BUSINESS TYCOON ROBERT brAMS . . .
I quickly flattened the paper out on my bed, gasping as I read the full article title: BILLIONAIRE BUSINESS TYCOON ROBERT brAMSON SLUMS IT IN DINER WITH MYSTERY WOMAN.
And that wasn’t the worst of it. In the center of the page was a large color photo of me caressing Robert’s cheek. The photo had been cropped in such a way that the moment looked far more intimate than it had been. Under the photo was a caption. All dressed up: Robert Bramson and mystery woman get romantic in formal attire in railroad-themed café.
I swiftly scanned the article, cringing each time an incriminating phrase jumped off the page:
The couple talked through the night . . .
They gazed at each other lovingly . . .
They left together just before dawn . . .
I flopped down on the bed. “Aw, fuck!”
Liz squealed, “This is really you? I can’t believe it!”
“This. Is. So. Bad.” I buried my hands in my face. “I’m so screwed.”
“I don’t get it. Why are you upset? Is that why you’ve been so secretive lately, you’re dating some bigwig billionaire?” She shook her head in amazement. “I . . . I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t this!”
Enjoy the humble pie, Liz , I thought nastily. Maybe next time she wouldn’t jump to conclusions and assume the worst of me.
“I know what you thought,” I said icily. “Does this mean our fight is over?”
She flapped a hand. “I’m over it if you are.” That was one of the things I loved about Liz, she didn’t hold a grudge.
I didn’t, either. At least I tried not to. “I’m over it.” To show that I harbored no hard feelings, I added, “And I hope you and David are very happy living together.” I meant it, too. Although, now that I had a paying job, I could afford to be a bit more magnanimous about my living situation.
“Thanks, we’re excited!” she said breezily. “So, tell me everything . Did you meet Robert through your new PA job? Normally, I’d say you shouldn’t dip your pen in company ink, but for him I’d make an execution. He’s gorgeous , like model hot,” she said, fanning her face. “He should be on a beach holding up a bottle of cologne I have no idea how to pronounce.”
I opened my mouth, dying to engage in some girly gossip with my bestie, but then snapped it closed. As much I wanted to spill everything, I was bound to secrecy. Blabbing could get me—and Liz—killed.
Still, I knew how she was. I had to give her something , because she’d never let up. Unfortunately, she had an excellent bullshit detector. It could get tricky, answering Liz’s questions without lying or telling the complete truth. Now I knew how it must feel being a politician.
“He’s just somebody I met.” Truth.
“Uh, no. ‘Just somebody I met’ is some random dude from the gym. This is Robert freakin’ Bramson . Even I’ve heard the name, and you know how bad I am with celebrities.” Liz wouldn’t be able to list five current movie stars, though she could probably name every horror author who’d ever lived. Her shelves were crammed with works by H.P. Lovecraft, Anne Rice, Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Mary Shelley, to name only a few. It was her favorite genre.
“I wouldn’t call him a celebrity, Liz.”
“Whatever. You know what I mean. Did you sleep with him? Please tell me you slept with that hot-ass man.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t like that.” Truth. “He was a perfect gentleman.” So perfect, in fact, that I’d only gotten a chaste peck on my cheek at the end of the night. Which, admittedly, was disappointing. I wouldn’t have slept with him, tempting as it may have been, but I wouldn’t have minded a little tongue action. I had no doubt Robert was an amazing kisser. Maybe one day he’d even prove it to me.
Liz jabbed a finger at the photo. “Whose dress is that? It looks like a Seraphim Blythe, which I know it isn’t. It would have cost, like, five grand or something!” she nattered breathlessly. Try nineteen thousand, Liz. “But it’s a great knockoff. You wench! Have you been holding out on me in the wardrobe department?”
“We met through a mutual acquaintance.” Truth. “The dress . . . was a loaner from a friend.” Truth and lie. The gown was technically loaned to me, yes, but Marlena was no friend of mine.
“Are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know, but I hope so. Our date ended abruptly, and we didn’t have a chance to discuss going on another date.” Truth with omission. Robert and I had talked straight through the night, and time had gotten away from us. Carl had come in and reminded Robert that, if we didn’t leave Locomotive before the sun came up, Robert would combust.
“Why don’t you want anyone to know about the date?”
“It’s complicated.” Truth.
“I bet it’s because of him being a zillionaire and all,” she said knowingly. “Probably some ridiculous HR policy he has to follow to protect his business. Or himself, in case you go crazy on him, right?”
I smiled but made no comment. Lie by omission.
“Why were the two of you at—where is that—Locomotive? Couldn’t he spring for steak and caviar or whatever rich guys like him eat?”
I was at a loss on that one. “Um . . . we—”
Saved by the bell, my phone rang. Guess I’d forgotten to put it on vibrate again. For once, that was a good thing. I broke out in a sweat when I saw that it was Dignitary on the caller ID. My face must have revealed something unpleasant, because Liz backed out of the room without pestering me to tell her who it was, a first for her. She even shut the door as she left.
I tried to sound perky as I answered. “Hello! This is Olivia.”
“Olivia, it’s Marlena.” The vampire’s voice was sharp enough to cut diamonds. “Michael is on the line, too.”
“Michael! Marlena! I’m surprised you two aren’t sleeping,” I prattled nervously. Stalling.
“No,” Marlena said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said no . No, we will not be engaging in idle small talk this morning. This is not a social call, but I imagine you already know that.”
I gulped. “Of course.”
“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” she said coolly.
“We saw the newspaper.” Michael sounded embarrassed on behalf of Marlena’s rudeness.
Shit.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
“I did make myself clear on our policies, did I not?” Marlena asked in her typical condescending manner. “So, what I don’t understand is why I saw a photo of you touching the face of a client in some tacky diner when you were paid to go to a gala for Bramson Enterprises. Long after your shift had ended, no less. You wouldn’t be freelancing, would you Olivia?”
It never occurred to me that Dignitary might think I was doing a side hustle of decoy services. “Freelancing? No, of course not! I’m so sorry about this. If I could explain?” I went on before they could respond. “The newspaper made it look like something was going on when there wasn’t. Nothing romantic happened whatsoever.” Much to my disappointment. “A photographer was hiding outside and—”
“Oh, save it, Olivia!” Marlena snapped. “I have quite a few centuries on you. Don’t you think I know when a human is lying to me?”
“Come on, Marlena, go easy,” Michael said.
Marlena let out a long, irritated sigh. “Look, I’m tired. It’s late, the sun is up, and I want to go to bed. Since you’re new, Olivia, I am going to cut you slack. Only this one time.”
“Thank you, Marlena. I’m so sorry—”
“I’m not finished,” she barked. “I may be cutting you slack, but you need to realize that if I catch you even thinking about batting your eyes at another client, I will fire you. Are you absorbing what I’m saying?”
“Yes. Completely.”
“And you better believe you aren’t going to see Robert again,” she snarled.
My heart plummeted to my stomach.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes. Okay,” I choked out, tears burning my eyes. Not seeing Robert again was as bad as being fired. Maybe worse.
“You should be thanking me. I’m doing you a favor. Did you know Robert—”
“You’ve made your point, Marlena,” Michael snapped.
“I’m bored with this. We’ll talk later.”
Click.
I stared at the phone for a long time, holding it away from my body like it was a poisonous snake. I crawled back into bed, pulling the covers high over my face. It was the first time since Tilly’s funeral that I cried myself to sleep.