6
Josie
I take her hand, and she pulls me to my feet. It doesn't feel like a date—we never called it that. Just a meetup. A drink to get to know each other a little, but...
I recognized her right away. The shock made me jump. But she doesn't want me to know yet, so I'll play along.
She tugs me to my feet, and I take a step closer than necessary, intentionally stumbling into her.
"Do you trust me? That I'm not neurotic?" I whisper near her ear, brushing my body against hers. I wasn't looking for anything, but just like the first time I saw her, this woman is oozing pheromones.
"Whoa, Josie." She puts some space between us, but not before I catch her sharp inhale. Her hand lingers on my back, warm and steady, steering me toward the door along the back wall—the same one the waiter disappeared through minutes ago.
I pause. "You're not planning to kill me, are you?"
She chuckles. "No." She opens the door, and when I hesitate, she steps through first. "You're safe. I promise," she says drily.
I follow her, stepping into the dimly lit, empty space. The door a few feet down probably leads to Nectar. A staircase winds upward, shrouded in darkness.
She flips a switch, and soft, warm light fills the space. She places a foot on the first step.
"Trust me?" She lifts a brow and starts up the stairs, not waiting to see if I'll follow.
I trail a few steps after her. "Nice view," I murmur appreciatively as I follow her up to the landing.
She glances over her shoulder, confused. "There's nothing down there."
She shrugs me off, distracted, opening the only door on the landing.
I follow her inside, my eyes darting around the room as I enter.
The waiter from downstairs steps out of the kitchen carrying two glasses of wine. "Everything's clear, ma'am. No one will disturb you this evening. He nods curtly and disappears through the door, closing it softly behind himself.
"I think you're moving a little fast, Boss."
She waves a hand dismissively. "It's not what you're thinking, Josie." She gestures to the table where the wine waits, and she sits, motioning for me to do the same. "Before I tell you who I am," she says quietly, "I need to tell you a story."
I sit down, my curiosity piqued.
When I bring the glass of wine to my nose, I'm pleasantly surprised.
She said the finest, and this is definitely that. I'm more of a whisky girl myself, but I know how to appreciate the finer things in life—and this definitely fits that category. I murmur a sound of approval.
I know she's got clout. But this? This is impressive, even for her.
"I'm listening."
"You were right on the money earlier, when you profiled me. What do you do?" she asks bluntly.
I shake my head. "You're going to tell me a story."
"Josie." The way she purrs my name—I'm not sure if it's a warning growl or something else.
"I get in people's heads. And under their skin." I raise both eyebrows in challenge.
She almost rolls her eyes. "I hope they pay you well. You do excellent work." She takes a deep breath and presses on.
"You were right, about me picking an out-of-the-way place where we could go unnoticed. I hold a position of authority, and quite a few people could recognize me."
"And you're not out yet?" I ask, feigning curiosity.
She shakes her head. "It's not that. I don't publicly make a point of it, but it's not something I've ever hidden."
"You've just been too busy with your career to foster any real relationships." It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure that out.
"I never felt the need to have a serious partner. I'm happy with my work, I have a handful of people close to me that I trust. I don't need anyone to complete me."
The Ice Queen voice is back, bordering on defensive.
"Do you have any friends?" I ask softly. I understand people who keep their circle small, but it sounds like she doesn't even have anyone she can call a friend.
She holds my gaze for a long minute. "I have people in my life that serve any purpose I need." She groans. "Almost."
I bite my lip, thinking. "You're not looking for sex," I muse. "You acted surprised when that even came out of your mouth earlier. And for a woman of your means, I imagine you could pay for anything you need in that department."
She snickers. "I don't need to pay for sex when I want it."
Still.
"So what prompted setting up a profile on Hers and trying to find a date? And what test did I pass to gain entrance to your fancy private apartment?"
"Stop mocking me." She frowns.
"Tell me your story, then. Your name, too," I prompt her.
She brings her wine to her nose, inhaling slowly and savoring its aroma.
"I had a male employee come on to me last week. He's been skirting around it, trying to ask me out multiple times over the past few months. It's a power grab."
"So fire his ass." No woman should put up with that kind of behavior from a coworker.
"It would be…" She sighs. "It would make my job exponentially more difficult. He's good at what he does, and he'd be hard to replace."
"So you need a girlfriend to show him why you're not interested. Do you even like women?"
Apparently, that offends her. "Yes." She swallows. "Yes, I like women. Quite a bit, actually." The corner of her mouth quirks up. "He asked if I would go to an event with him, because most people will be bringing a plus-one."
"Let me guess," I laugh. "You told him you have a girlfriend, and now you need someone to go with you to the event."
A blush rises in her cheeks.
"Your lawyer is in the other room, and I need to sign a non-disclosure agreement before you'll tell me who you are."
"We don't have an NDA drawn up yet." She sighs. "Tonight was just supposed to be an informal vetting process."
"I need to pass a vetting process to go on a date with you?" I ask incredulously. I push my glass of wine away.
"Josie, wait." Her voice roots me to the spot. "Please."
"What did he say to you to throw you off your game?" I've seen her in action before. This seems so unlike her.
An inaudible sigh escapes her.
"Look, whatever you tell me is safe. I won't tell anyone anything. You have my word," I tell her, serious now.
She shakes her head. "How can you read me so well? You don't even know me." She takes another sip of her wine and squares her shoulders. "He directly asked if I would go with him. I told him I already had a plus-one. When he didn't believe me, I told him that my fiancée was a very private person."
That's the piece I was missing. "You're not looking for someone for a single date," I murmur. "You are looking for a long-term commitment. Hence the vetting."
"The loser had the gall to tell me I'm uptight and need a man," she seethes, "and when I turned him down, he decided to force my hand."
"How so?" I sit back in my chair, intrigued.
She bites her lip nervously and lets out a long breath. "Someone posted on social media that they'd seen us together, and it started trending."
I rack my brain for anything I've seen or heard lately. I don't keep up much with social media and the rumor mill, but Mel's fiancée Renna keeps an active presence. She was the top athlete for the university's winning gymnastics team—she still earns sponsorship money, maintaining a healthy presence online. She mentioned something over the weekend, but I hadn't connected the dots.
"You're…" I pause, pretending I've only just worked it out. I start to say the name people whisper. Cold Rock. Delmont's ice queen. Her last name means 'rock' in Italian. She's known for being cold and hard, for running a tight ship—but also for doing a damn good job at it. Even her critics respect her.
The only reason Renna mentioned it was because she had looked up to this CEO of our teaching hospital. Not many openly queer women make it into such positions.
"Icy boss," the woman at the table nods, finishing my sentence. Her Her handle.
"My friend works at the hospital," I tell her. "She mentioned it the other day. She was disappointed to hear you were dating a man. She respected you immensely for your competence and what you'd accomplished."
"Respected?" Her brow furrows. "I've never been in the closet, but I've never made an issue of my queerness, either." Her shoulders drop. "So now I'm disappointing all the young queer kids, too." She lets out a frustrated breath. "I need to put a stop to this."
"Let me help." I reach over and squeeze her hand. "I'll be your fiancée."
"It's not that easy," she argues. "We need to talk over the details with Hettie. But what about you? What if you decide you're ready to start dating again?"
I scoff. "I'm still not over Mel." I don't know if my heart will ever let go of her, after being in love with her for the last seventeen years. I just always thought we'd be together.
Giving up sex for however long this farce lasts will be the most annoying part.
"What about your friend with benefits?" she asks.
"She's a friend without benefits now." I shrug.
"What do you want out of it, if we do this? You'd be giving up a lot. You wouldn't be able to see anyone, at least for a while."
"I don't know. I get to see this asshole publicly humiliated, and restore my friend's faith in you." And go out on dates with a beautiful woman .
I smile, tentative. "I'm in the middle of a court case right now anyways, so I don't have the mental or emotional desire to go looking for anything serious."
She pulls her hand away from mine. "What court case? I don't want to deal with any negative press."
I laugh. At least she has her priorities straight.
"It's some old legal issue about a property I inherited from my grandfather. Technically, my name's not even attached to the case. It's nothing to worry about," I promise her.