Chapter 6
D o I smell bacon?
I’m stepping off the elevator into the Kaplans’ foyer when the smell of sizzling grease hits me smack in the face, and I nearly start drooling. My empty stomach growls angrily, reminding me that in all my rush to make it to work on time this morning, I forgot to eat breakfast.
My feet start moving me toward the kitchen in a hunger-induced haze, but my brain stops them in their tracks. I still have no idea how to approach the whole situation with Elias, despite the half hour I spent mulling it over on the ride back from work. Dozens of unanswered questions swirl through my brain, like why he needed somewhere to stay so urgently, who the woman he was sucking face with was, and why on earth I thought having a total stranger sleep across the hall from me was a good idea.
Sure, I was worried that Gigi and Tobias might get upset if they found out I kicked their brother to the curb, and I did feel bad for the guy, but looking back it was truly a terrible idea. If only I hadn’t flashed him when I came charging downstairs, I might not have felt so embarrassed and maybe had some firmer ground to stand on.
Speaking of which, priority one today will definitely be determining just how much of me he saw last night. Here’s hoping it’s zero.
I decide to rip off the bandaid and follow the aroma of baconey goodness down the hall to find Elias cooking up a storm on the oversized stovetop, looking much more awake than I do after only five hours of sleep. Princess is at his feet, diligently following his every move in the hope that she’ll catch a fallen piece of meat.
“Morning!” he calls out over his shoulder as he scrambles some eggs in a pan.
Despite the early hour, he looks completely put together and ready for the day. He’s dressed in black shorts and a linen button-up, his perfectly styled hair in complete contrast to the messy bun I’m currently sporting.
“Good morning,”
I smile tentatively and make my way to the pantry where I fill up Princess’ food bowl and top up her water, knowing whatever Elias is making can’t possibly be on Gigi’s approved dog food list. She gives me the stink eye when I slide the bowls over to her, lifting her chin as if she’s repulsed by my offering.
“Want some?” Elias asks me from behind, sending my tired mind to a dirty place.
“Huh?”
“Breakfast, do you want some?” he repeats, holding out a plate mounded high with eggs, bacon, and toast.
“Oh, sure. Don’t mind if I do.”
He sets the plate down on the island in front of me and goes over to the fridge to pull out orange juice, ketchup, and various jams. If it wasn’t made clear to me last night, it’s obvious now that he basically lives here. It took me fifteen whole minutes just to find the pasta amongst the dozens of shelves in the pantry on Sunday, while he seems to know exactly where everything is.
He opens a cupboard and reaches for the peanut butter on the top shelf, flashing a hint of tanned skin when his shirt rises.
Focus, Gemma.
“Thanks, this looks great,” I say, taking a seat at the island and trying to act nonchalant.
“Consider it my way of repaying you for not kicking me out last night. I realize I probably didn’t make a very good impression after catching you…”
Please don’t say naked.
“Off guard,” he finishes.
“I would’ve done it for free, you know. Letting you stay,” I tease, watching him set his own plate down across from mine. “I didn’t realize acts of kindness came with a free breakfast around here.”
“Are you saying you don’t need this then?” he asks, reaching for my food before I smack his hand away.
“Not a chance.”
He chuckles softly before sitting down and digging in. I can’t help but stare inquisitively at him as he eats, completely unbothered, as if this situation we find ourselves in is totally normal. Maybe things like this happen to him all the time, but I can say with complete confidence that this is the first time I’ve ever had a sleepover with one of my client’s brothers.
And I have a lot that requires clarification.
“So,” I start.
He must sense my lingering stare because he looks up at me a moment later, his eyebrows raised as he clears his throat. “I’m guessing you have questions?”
“Multiple.”
He sighs and sets down his fork, sitting back in his chair. “Fire away.”
“Okay, first and probably most importantly: last night, when I came downstairs and my towel fell, you didn’t happen to…”
See me naked is what I want to say, but somehow that feels much too intimate, so I opt instead to trail off and hope he catches my drift.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything,” he assures me, a smile tugging at the side of his mouth.
Thank God.
“Great. Question two: why do you need somewhere to stay so badly?”
“I got kicked out of my place.”
“By who? Your girlfriend?”
“Nope, don’t have one of those,” he answers, and I hate the way knowing he’s single piques my interest. “I live in student housing at Columbia. They kicked me out of my dorm because I—doesn’t matter. I just need a temporary place.”
I make a mental note to follow up on his super not-cryptic answer later.
“For how long?”
“Couple weeks, maybe.”
Did he say weeks, PLURAL?
He must notice my hesitation because he quickly tacks on, “But I can stay at a hotel if this makes you uncomfortable. No big deal.”
It’s a tempting offer, no doubt about it .
Part of me, the part that has trust issues and generally likes dogs better than people, wants to jump at this offer. Do I really want to live with a complete stranger for two whole weeks? That’s the entire time I’m staying here—which means I can kiss my little Upper East Side vacation goodbye.
But the other part of me, the one that has a soft spot for anyone in need (especially ones that look like Elias) tells me that his staying here will be fine. After all, it’s only temporary. One week with this guy wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, and who knows? Maybe I could get used to getting served breakfast every morning.
“You shouldn’t have to waste money on a hotel when there’s a perfectly empty room here,” I decide, even though I get the impression that money is no object for the Kaplans. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Sweet, thanks,” he says with a casual smile.
“I still have more questions though.”
The smile disappears from his face as he picks up his fork, leaning back in to shovel more food into his mouth. “Fine, but I’m eating while we do this.”
“Whatever. So if you live in the area and you have an extra key, why didn’t your brother just ask you to dog sit? Why hire me?”
He glances up and gives me a smirk, like he knows something I don’t. “First off, I’m not sure how much Gigi trusts my care-taking abilities. Second, I’m not really a dog person.”
I look over at Princess who is face-deep in her kibble bowl, having given up her earlier stubbornness. She seemed pretty excited to see him last night, and I’m not totally sure I buy this whole too cool to care front he’s putting up.
“Uh-huh,” I feign. “Alright, last question: who was that woman you were with last night?”
“Not sure how that’s any of your business.”
Fair . Unfortunately for him, I’m both equally curious and incredibly patient, so I sit back and wait for him to offer up a better answer.
“You’re kind of nosey, anyone ever tell you that?” he finally says.
“It’s been mentioned to me.”
He chews in silence as I tap my fingers on the table, not having anywhere better to be.
“Christ, fine. She was just some girl I picked up at the bar.”
Interesting . Could this be the unexpected answer to my article writing problem? Could he have the insider info that I’ve been missing?
“And I’m guessing you have no intentions of pursuing a relationship with her?”
“I thought you said that was your last question?”
“What can I say, I lied.”
He rolls his eyes once more, and I get the feeling they’re going to get stuck that way at this rate. “Nope, I don’t.”
Bingo.
“Would you say you do this kind of thing a lot?”
“What kind of thing?”
“One-night stands.”
Please say yes, please say yes.
“What’s with the third degree? You writing a book or something?” he jeers.
“An article, actually.”
His eyes meet mine and, dare I say, he almost looks impressed. “You’re a writer?”
“Yep, for Flourish Magazine. ”
Only as of this morning, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Huh.” I can’t tell whether or not he recognizes the name, but he seems intrigued all the same. “Hold up, I thought you were a dog sitter?”
“A person can have two jobs, you know. Besides, I mostly just do this one for fun.”
“Picking up after other people’s dogs is what’s considered fun to you?”
“That, and staying in big gorgeous penthouses,” I boast, gesturing to the general area around us. “I’m lucky Gigi picked me for the job.”
He’s right about to say something back, no doubt another snide comment, when my phone rings on the counter.
“Oh! Speaking of, this is her,” I say, checking the caller ID.
His eyes open wide as I reach for it, and I swear he almost looks nervous. “Listen, about that. There’s something I have to—”
I hold up a finger to him as I accept the call, needing to switch back over to Professional Gemma now.
“Good morning, Gigi! How’s it going over there?”
“ Bonjour , Gemma!” she chimes through the phone. “Oh, it’s just wonderful. The water, the architecture, the people, the food! If you’re ever planning on taking a big vacation, I’d highly recommend the C?te d’Azur .”
“I’ll be sure to keep it in mind,” I reply, stifling a laugh at the thought of me trying to pay for the airfare with my Target rewards card.
“How’s our Princess doing? Is she giving you any trouble?”
“Not at all, she’s been a dream. She’s just eating her breakfast now,” I say, looking over at her and noticing she’s already polished off half the bowl .
I hear some movement in the background on Gigi’s end, and Tobias’ voice appears a second later. “ Hun, are you coming? The boat’s leaving in five minutes! ”
Elias tries to get my attention from across the island, waving his hands around like a madman while Gigi hollers something back to her husband. I give him a confused look before turning back to the phone, not having time for this game of charades.
“Listen, Gemma,” Gigi chirps, speaking quickly now. “We’ll be going on some boat tours and stopping in a few cities along the Riviera this week, so I may not be able to check in with you every day. Is that alright?”
“No problem at all.”
“You have my number if you need to reach me, and I put some emergency numbers on the back of Princess’ schedule. Call me if anything happens!”
“Will do,” I answer, immediately realizing I still need to ask her about the whole Elias situation. “Oh, one more thing—”
“Give Princess our love for us, okay?”
“Wait, before you go!” I blurt, really hoping it didn’t come off rude. “I wanted to ask you about Tobias’ brother.”
“Elias? Yes, what about him?”
He starts fervently shaking his head no in front of me, eyes bulging as he tries to gesture something.
“ What? ” I mouth to him, covering the phone with my hand.
“You can’t tell them I’m here!” he whispers.
“ Are you serious? ”
“Yes! Look I’ll explain later, just don’t say anything.” He actually looks kind of panicked, eyebrows coming together into a desperate frown. “Please?”
This time it’s my turn to roll my eyes, and I make sure he sees that I’m thoroughly unimpressed with him .
“Hello?” Gigi asks from the other end of the line.
“I— I saw a picture of all of you on the mantel above the fireplace. I just, uh, didn’t know Tobias had a brother.”
“Yes, well… he does.”
I smack my forehead with my hand, feeling completely embarrassed as Elias silently thanks me.
“If that’s everything, we’d better get going,” Gigi finally says, and I want to strangle him for making me sound so stupid. “Give Princess a kiss for us. Au revoir !”
I say my goodbyes before she hangs up, and immediately turn to Elias to give him a piece of my mind. He stares back at me all doe-eyed and innocent-looking, moving some extra pieces of bacon onto my plate as a peace offering.
“Um, what the hell was that?”
“I’m so sorry,” he starts, but I’m not having it. “I was going to talk to you before you called Gigi, but then she called first…”
I raise an eyebrow at him expectantly, but he doesn’t elaborate.
“Explanation, please.”
He sighs and leans back in his chair. “I haven’t told my brother I got kicked out of my dorm yet.”
I’m waiting for the second part of the explanation, the part that tells me why I couldn’t tell Gigi that he was staying here, but it doesn’t come.
“So call him up and tell him now?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just complicated, okay?” he snaps, clamming up and detaching himself from the conversation.
It’s obvious he doesn’t want to discuss this further, but my incorrigible curiosity refuses to leave the subject alone. Why doesn’t he want to tell his brother? Is he afraid he wouldn’t want him to stay here? From the limited information I’ve been able to gather, it seems like they’re pretty close—especially considering the fact that he already has his own room here. It just doesn’t make any sense, I doubt his brother would say no if he asked…
I desperately want some answers, if for no other reason than to know why I’m lying to my clients (which I am not in the habit of doing). I want to press the issue with him, to figure out what’s going on here.
Until.
A brilliant idea occurs to me. One that is tempting enough to make me silence my curiosity and overlook the questionable ethics at play. This genius idea would benefit us both and if executed successfully, wouldn’t have any consequences for either of us or for the Kaplans. All I have to do is convince Elias to go for it.
“Fine then. How about we strike a deal?”
He meets my eye line, seemingly intrigued, which I take as a good sign. “What kind of deal?”
“I won’t tell Gigi and Tobias that you’re here, no questions asked, if you help me with my article.”
He frowns and lets out a sound that resembles a sneer, like he thinks I’m joking.
“Oh, you’re serious?” he asks after I don’t budge. “Why would you need my help to write it?”
“It’s complicated.”
I give him a sarcastic smile, hoping the use of his own logic is enough to persuade him. The truth is that I have no intention of ratting him out to his brother, but I desperately need his help if I’m ever going to write this article .
My research thus far hasn’t been going well, to say the least. Everything I’ve been able to find online is too generic and repetitive. I want to write something more specific to our audience, something that will live up to the standard Marisol has set.
I need someone with insider information, someone who can tell me the ins and outs of one-night stands without me having to experience it myself. I just hope Elias is desperate enough to agree to it.
After what feels like an eternity of holding my breath, he extends his hand across the island with a wicked grin on his face.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”