Chapter 34
thirty-four
Juliet leaves me standing in the kitchen with a second hard-on and a pot of soup boiling over.
After the initial shock, I have to admire her technique. She’s right—I no longer have a shred of regret. If what we just did means I get to keep fucking her, I don’t want to take any of it back.
Who am I trying to fool? I’d shuffle across hot coals on my hands and knees to have her. Of course she knows that. I’m the one struggling to accept it.
Muttering curses at myself, I trash the condom and put my boxers back on. Fuck the shirt . I’ll work in my underwear.
I’m in my own goddamn apartment, after all. And all professional decorum has gone out the window. Clearly.
I kick my rumpled suit into a pile beside my bedroom door and turn the stove down before stirring the contents. It looks good.
Broken ears of corn bob on top, surprising me. I’m poking at one when Juliet emerges from my room, having clearly washed up.
Her bare face makes my heart seize in my chest. She is so fucking gorgeous, it hurts .
I tug her into my side and drop a kiss on her forehead. Juliet’s troubled expression seems more pensive than upset, so I decide not to ask.
Her brooding starts to make sense as questions flood my mind. She broke her one-night rule; is this really the first time? What does that mean? Will we keep having sex? Maybe just while we work together and then we’ll stop?
Can we stop?
And if we do, then what? I won’t see her anymore? The thought depresses me.
But what’s the alternative? Never stopping?
Also, why do I want her more every time I have her? Infatuation doesn’t work that way, in my experience. Sex usually dulls desire over time. Until, eventually, it dies off.
This feels like the opposite. Each time she looks at me, smiles at me, gives herself over to me, I just want more . And then more of that more...
Christ . My own thoughts don’t even make sense.
Wordlessly, Jules ladles her soup into two bowls and spoons sour cream and capers on top of each. She tops both of them off with half an ear of corn.
“Mmm.” An appreciative grunt escapes me before I can stop it. “Damn, Jules. This is amazing.”
She smirks around her second bite. “Not as good as Abuelita’s, though.”
I shovel another scoop, pondering how I might get an invitation to eat some of her grandmother’s food in person. The lady must be a marvel. Just like her granddaughter.
With a stomach full of warm comfort food, my mind clears. I remember why she’s in my apartment in the first place.
“So, did you find any precedents to tell us how much time I have?”
Juliet exhales. “A month. Maximum. But there are more favorable outcomes for whistleblowers who wait less than three weeks.”
“Jesus.” I have a guillotine hanging over my head. With a timer on it.
Her spoon clatters into her empty bowl, drawing my eyes to her tense expression. When she speaks, her soft voice doesn’t carry a hint of judgment. “Which way are you leaning?”
I don’t have an answer. My self-protective instincts tell me to take all the dignity I can and run to higher ground without raising any alarms. It would be cleaner and way easier. Not to mention all the motherfucking money I stand to earn with an untainted reputation.
Truly, the notion of getting some twisted revenge from turning my father in doesn’t appeal to me nearly as much as getting the hell away from him.
“To the left,” I deadpan, not having any other answer.
Jules’s lips twitch, hiding mirth. “Graham.”
Damn her . This beautiful woman can scold me any time she likes. I can’t keep scowling when she looks so amused and disapproving.
A grin breaks over my face. She surprises me when she brushes her warm fingertips over my cheek, tracing a laugh line.
She sighs, shaking her head. “You are handsome, pinchao , I’ll give you that.”
Her compliment only encourages my smile. “I’m aware.”
“Walked right into that one,” she mutters to herself, rolling her eyes. Then, louder, “Should we work? I do have to go home eventually. And you already paid me. A lot.”
I hate the thought of her trekking back to Queens late at night, alone. Especially in that red dress. Unfamiliar anxiety claws at my stomach. “I’ll call you a car.”
Another eye roll. “I can hail my own cab, Graham.”
I stand and gather our bowls, balancing them in one hand while the other tugs lightly on her ponytail. “You’re doing it again,” I point out. “And I didn’t say ‘taxi.’ I said a car. As in, I’ll call my service.”
Fire snaps in her eyes; the same blaze that stole my breath the first time I saw her. “Doing what again?”
I set our dishes in my sink and lift my bare shoulders, shrugging. “Arguing with me for no reason.”
Juliet’s lush lips flatten. For a long moment, she stares back at me, warring with herself. “I don’t mean to,” she finally admits. “I think I do it when I feel off-balance.”
Now we’re getting somewhere . “So apologies and chivalry put you off-balance. What else?” I want to know, but I work to keep my tone offhand.
She seems weirdly skittish. Glancing down at her hands, Juliet mumbles, “I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”
“Why?”
I’ve been wondering since the night we all went out for drinks. She told me it was easier to just have one-night stands, but she never explained why .
Her thin black brows crease while she glares at her fingers. “I always figured that sleeping with someone wasn’t the problem—no offense, but most men can’t fuck their way out of a paper bag. I knew I wouldn’t have any issues walking away from that . It’s all the stuff after . So, I made my rule. To avoid… drama.”
She almost says “love,” but she stops herself. It makes me wonder.
Does she not believe in that sort of thing at all?
I can’t ask her, but I can ask myself.
My stomach drops. Well, I didn’t , two weeks ago….
But is that really true?
I think of the way Grayson looks at Ella in her hideous boots. How she always knows exactly what to say to get my hard-ass friend to laugh at himself.
It’s real. I just assumed it wasn’t for me. Like flu shots and emotional support animals—something that other people rely on that I’ve never seen the need for.
Until now .
I tell the hissing voice in the back of my head to shut the fuck up.
I am not in love with Juliet; I’m infatuated .
More infatuated every fucking second .