Chapter Two
T elfer Terzi was used to having Friday nights to himself.
Sometimes, one of his colleagues would be sweating over a last-minute deadline, or working later to secure a Monday off, but usually he was able to sit down and focus on getting work done, without considering the effect he sometimes had on his co-workers.
Or the effect one in particular had on him.
He could shut out most distractions when he really needed to focus, but Laodice Troiades was impossible to ignore. She took up so much space every time she entered a room, and not only with her impressive curves and sweeping skirts, but with her shimmering charisma. For most people, she was sunshine, a radiant beam of warmth and generosity. Time and again he’d seen people soften and glow when she directed her attention towards them. It was an excellent strategy—he’d learned to turn on the charm himself, when necessary—but it didn’t seem to require any conscious effort on her part. She was genuinely interested in and predisposed to like most people, and they naturally responded to it.
For him, of course, she was a thunderstorm.
Laodice was his professional rival, his personal nemesis, and his grudgingly acknowledged private attraction. Whenever she was around, he was always a little aware of her, even if she wasn’t directly interacting with him, arguing over his market projections or trying to get him to support one of her unworkable notions.
But on Friday nights, Laodice dated, in her continual quest for The One. Over the last eight months she’d dated Eli Kaon, who seemed to be in the running for the position. Telfer had met Eli and considered him the human equivalent of lukewarm toast, but if Laodice wanted to throw all her fire and ambition at a cardboard cutout of a man, that was naturally her prerogative.
Telfer didn’t date. Friday nights were his.
But on this particular Friday night, even alone in the office, with his earbuds in and his screens aligned at the right angle, it was somehow still difficult to focus. He should be rejoicing—Laodice wasn’t going to be there for an entire week, and his productivity should improve accordingly.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t help thinking about her being off on that Halcyon retreat with her Ken doll of a boyfriend, getting the story he’d brought to Miriam.
Telfer had been there when the Halcyon venture was first ideated. He’d been the one offered the lead. Brandon had agreed to an embedded reporter for their soft opening, provided that the guests were suitably anonymized.
Miriam had praised him for the scoop, and then pointed out that the assignment really required a couple.
Telfer had had an answer for that. He’d suggested hiring a professional actor, or perhaps an escort. Miriam had considered it before assigning the story to Laodice instead.
Because Laodice was the better wedding writer—he was willing to admit that—but more importantly, because she had a partner and he didn’t.
And he wouldn’t have cared—he wouldn’t— except that this gave Laodice a very good chance at securing the Bridal Editor position when Miriam left, and he wanted that job. He could lead Bridal to snap up more of the market share. He could leverage the digital opportunities and make Goddess and Bliss synonymous with weddings, until no bride (and a small but growing selection of grooms) would ever dream of getting married without buying a copy.
But if he wanted to be the editor in charge of Bridal, he needed a big win. And coming up with one on this Friday night was proving to be more of a challenge than he’d hoped.
Even through his earbuds, he caught the sound of the door opening behind him, and the exasperated huff that followed.
He turned, and Laodice Troiades was standing there, still in the flowing pink thing she’d worn to the office that day, her hair starting to fall out of its loose updo. Automatically, he checked the lines of her skirt. They were crumpled. She’d been twisting the fabric in her fists again, her sure tell of emotion poorly contained.
Interesting.
He met her eyes and then jumped to his feet.
“You’re bleeding,” he said.
“What?” Laodice said, and then touched the bright spot on her cheekbone, bringing away her hand to inspect the smear on her fingers. “Oh, hell. That’s perfect. Where’s Miriam?”
“Gone. Sit down, I’ll get the first aid kit.”
“I don’t need—” Laodice started, but he was already heading to the reception area, where Stephanie kept their department kit in her lower desk drawer.
“Sit down,” he repeated.
“I’ll do it,” she said impatiently, and held her hand out for the kit.
“Come on, you can’t see your own face,” he said, and was relieved when she sighed and slumped into her usual chair, her body language allowing him to approach. “What happened?”
“Ricochet, probably,” she said, which made little sense, and then, “I really liked that frog,” which made even less.
She hissed when he dabbed at the cut with the sterilizing wipe. The cut was an inch long, but shallow, and most of the blood had already dried. Telfer heroically didn’t look down her top, but he couldn’t help noticing how soft her skin was, tender and smooth as a rose petal.
“I don’t think it needs stitches, but a couple of butterfly closures wouldn’t hurt.”
“Okay,” she said. There was a hesitation, so brief he nearly missed it. “Thank you.”
“You didn’t feel this?” he asked, carefully peeling back and placing the tiny adhesives over the cut.
“I feel it now,” she said, with the rueful good humor he’d seen before. Never directed at him, though.
“Okay,” Telfer said, and sat back on the desk opposite. “Now. Why are you here, and not halfway to the Hippocampus?”
Laodice’s spine straightened and her chin came up. Telfer found himself oddly relieved. “Eli is no longer coming with me to Halcyon. I need to get in touch with Miriam so we can discuss back-up plans.”
Ah. Telfer felt his own spine straighten as he spotted the opportunity.
“Eli’s not going?”
Laodice glowered at him. “That’s what I said.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a lying sack of shit ,” Laodice snarled, and then regained her control with obvious effort. “Look, it’s fine. I’ll find someone else.”
“Who?”
“My sister,” Laodice said, and for a moment Telfer envied the certainty with which she said it, her unshakable belief that if she asked for help with something this important, her family would support her.
But the problems were obvious.
“Which sister? The one who looks like you dressed up as a librarian, or the famous influencer who one of the other attendees is bound to know?”
Laodice frowned.
“And do you really want to be doing couple activities with your sister anyway?” he asked, pressing his advantage. “Obviously, nothing weird would actually be happening, but it would feel strange, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re saying this in your smug ‘I already have a solution’ voice,” Laodice said suspiciously.
“I do,” Telfer said. All right, he sounded a little smug. “It’s me.”
“No,” Laodice said, with an immediate conviction that could have been disheartening if he wasn’t already aware of how she felt about him.
“I’m the only real option,” Telfer said, spreading his hands. “In fact, I’m a better option than Eli. You can rely on me to uphold a cover story and as your colleague, I can help gather background and pursue my own leads.”
“It’s a week! You don’t have the leave.”
“I do, actually,” Telfer said, ignoring the way her eyes immediately narrowed. It wasn’t technically a lie. He did have the leave available . He just hadn’t asked for this week off. “I was planning to get a lot done in a time of fewer distractions,” he added, and that was true. “Look, you know I wanted that story. It should have been mine anyway, but I’ll settle for half of it. You do the human interest, and I’ll chase the vendor connections.”
“You seem to be missing the part where it’s a couples retreat for engaged couples, and we can barely be civil in the office,” Laodice said. Her cheeks were flushed, and her dark eyes were sparking. Any minute now, she’d start shooting verbal lightning.
Telfer shrugged. A small and petty part of himself liked pushing Laodice’s buttons.
“That presents no real difficulty. Couples argue all the time.”
“We’ll be sharing a room,” Laodice pointed out. “Sharing a bed.”
“I won’t get handsy if you don’t.”
Laodice’s jaw dropped, her plush lips opening. “As if— I would never —”
“Then there’s no problem.” Telfer stood. “If you wouldn’t mind giving me a ride to my place, I can grab my bag and we’ll go.” And he’d better compose a hasty email to Miriam, apologizing for the short notice and explaining that he’d be working remotely. Miriam had a soft spot for him. He tried not to exploit the advantage. But in this case, he’d make an exception.
Laodice didn’t move.
Telfer eyed her. It was a perfectly logical proposition, but experience had taught him that Laodice didn’t always respond to logic. For a moment, he was worried that she wouldn’t see reason.
Then she deflated. “I suppose you’re the second to last person I’d be willing to share a bed with right now.”
Telfer felt triumph rush through him. “Rude,” he said. “I’m not a murderer or a venture capitalist.”
“There have got to be some decent murderers,” Laodice said thoughtfully. “All right, Terzi. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you can be my fake fiancé.”
“Let’s not forget that I’m doing you a huge favor here,” Telfer said. “You should be thanking me.”
Laodice snorted. “You’re doing this out of naked self-interest.”
“So are you,” Telfer pointed out, and then had an inconvenient and frustratingly fuzzy image of a naked Laodice flash through his head.
“True,” Laodice said, and thrust her hand out. “So, since we’re both getting something out of this, and neither of us can sabotage the other without ruining our own work, I propose a truce for the duration of the retreat.”
Telfer raised an eyebrow. “And then we return to our cut-throat competition for Miriam’s place?”
“Yes,” Laodice said. “Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Telfer said, and shook on it.
Laodice’s palm was soft, but there was strength in her grip. Her hair chose that moment to tumble down completely, releasing a waft of sweet scent in his direction. She let go and stepped past him, grumbling as she tucked her hair up again.
Telfer stood still, wondering if he’d made a foolish mistake.
***
Laodice was utterly unsurprised when Telfer gave her directions to a multi-story apartment building downtown. He probably lived in an executive apartment with soulless corporate art, an expensive black leather couch, and a shiny chrome kitchen he had never sullied with cooking.
She was a little surprised he didn’t comment on her car. It was a cherry red Alfa Romeo 1974 Spider Veloce that she’d bought for a song at a junkyard. Laodice had done most of the restoration in evenings and weekends during her junior and senior years of college, and the result was a classic convertible sports car that guys typically either coveted or pretended not to while not-so-secretly writhing with envy.
A few men had openly disbelieved that she’d fixed it up herself. Those guys didn’t get a second ride. Or a second date.
Telfer just folded his long legs into the single passenger seat and gave her directions. Laodice spotted a parking spot and swooped in.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Telfer said, and disappeared into the building before she could even respond.
All right, he wasn’t going to invite her in. Laodice didn’t want to see his apartment anyway. She touched her cheek, and then checked the wound in her rearview mirror. The cut didn’t look too bad, and she could admit that Telfer had done a decent job of tending to it.
But what the hell had she been thinking? Working with the man for five days a week was bad enough. How was she going to survive seven nights in close proximity with him, and keep up the charade of a happy couple?
“And what were the alternatives?” she asked the mirror version of herself, who grimaced in response.
“Talking to yourself?” Telfer said. He was holding a single slim black suitcase. “That’s a sign of insecurity, you know.”
Laodice started. “Thirty to fifty percent of people have inner monologues,” she retorted.
“And I’m one of them, but I keep that shit locked up. Is there room in the trunk or should I put this in…” He looked at the package shelf behind the seats. “The back seat?” he said doubtfully.
Aha. He hadn’t praised her car because he didn’t know the first thing about it. “There’s room,” Laodice said, and got out to open the trunk for him. His case sat neatly on top of hers in the deep hollow. “How did you pack so fast? That wasn’t even five minutes.”
“I keep a go-bag, and I added extra underwear and shirts. I assume Halcyon has laundering services, if necessary.”
Laodice had meticulously planned her outfits to give the impression of wealth, but not of trying too hard. It had required hours, and several consultations with her younger sister Xena, who spent a lot of time with rich people and those who desperately wanted to become them.
Must be nice to be a guy.
“I thought maybe you had a packing list, like Joan Didion,” she said.
“I don’t think I’d look good in a leotard and skirt,” Telfer said, and then frowned at her surprise. “What?”
“I’m shocked you can quote from that list.”
Telfer looked down his nose at her, possibly his least attractive expression. “It gets trotted out in multiple stories every summer. Besides, I’m a journalist, of course I’ve read The White Album .”
“Oh, are you a journalist?” Laodice asked, scooping her skirts under her butt as she slid back into the seat. “I hadn’t noticed, what with all your focus on the bottom line.”
“My finance background makes me valuable ,” Telfer said meaningfully. “Especially to people who understand that journalism is a business, like Hera. She was very happy with the results of my influencer initiative.”
Laodice scowled. The influencer initiative was a sore spot, because Telfer had started it with a proposal to her sister. Xena was a businesswoman, and Laodice didn’t exactly want her to miss out on opportunities, but had Xena really had to do such a good job on her promo and product placements for Bliss ? Xena’s numbers had shot up even higher, and Olympus had gotten real cut-through on markets that normally didn’t have much interest in print. Telfer had ridden that wave of smug superiority for over a year.
But after a moment, Laodice relaxed. She was the one who’d written up the Persephone/Hades wedding. She was the one Miriam trusted to bring back an exclusive cover story on the Halcyon retreat. Telfer might have the edge when it came to figuring out new ways to make a buck, but editors needed to be writers, first and foremost, and there, she definitely came out on top.
The rush hour traffic had died down by the time they got out of the city. Telfer didn’t say much, and Laodice kept her eyes on the road. Every now and then someone would buzz past them, but highway cruising on a gorgeous summer evening with the top down was still an idyllic way to pass the time.
Even if the company was less idyllic. Her second thoughts were getting a lot louder, now that her initial panic had died down.
Worse, Telfer’s reference to packing had brought the contents of her own suitcase into her mind’s eye, and while Laodice was confident in her daywear, her nightclothes were a different story. She’d packed in happy anticipation of excellent sex with Eli, who, despite his now-obvious flaws, was fantastic in the bedroom. She had some saucy lingerie, a silky shortie set with a low v-neck camisole top, and a brand-new diaphanous peignoir that went with a hot pink satin teddy. All wasted now; she definitely wasn’t going to be wearing any of that around Telfer.
Well, she’d also packed exercise clothes. Maybe she’d see if she could sleep in her yoga pants.
Telfer was squirming a little, slouching in the seat and then folding his legs awkwardly and straightening again. Laodice glanced at him. She wouldn’t hear a word said against the Spider, but she could privately admit the seats weren’t quite as wide as she’d like. Telfer’s skinny butt should fit just fine.
He reached up and smoothed down his hair, scowling, and she grinned as she diagnosed the problem. Laodice was maybe wider than the Alfa Romeo engineers had envisaged, but at five foot five she was the perfect height for the Spider. With the top down, she could look comfortably through the windshield without slouching or craning, and the slipstream passed cleanly over her head.
Telfer was taller, well over six feet, and the slipstream was hitting him right in the face. Even when he slouched a little, the wind went right through all that thick, dark hair. She’d never seen his hair out of place, but now it looked as if someone had been combing their fingers through it, deliberately trying their best to muss it up.
He looked like an annoyed cat, grimly submitting to the hairdryer after a bath.
He slouched again, and Laodice caught him wincing as he readjusted. Well, she didn’t mind if Telfer suffered some discomfort, but causing him actual pain wasn’t really in the spirit of their truce. She took the next exit and parked at a truck stop which had some fast-food options, a small convenience store and, all the fates be praised, an actual roadside diner.
“Why are we stopping?” Telfer said, getting out with her. “Aren’t we already running late?”
“Check-in is any time this evening,” Laodice said. Through her teeth. Why was it so hard to do this man favors? “And I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten, and we should put the top up before it gets dark. Because otherwise you’ll be cold and your hair will look like that.”
Telfer flattened his palms against his head and glared at her. “Well, we should get something to go.”
“We are not eating in my vintage sports car! I spent far too much time restoring that interior for you to spill mustard all over it.”
“I wouldn’t spill—” Telfer said hotly, and then hesitated. “You restored this car?”
“Yes!” And if he said one disbelieving word, she was going to leave his ass here, Laodice decided. Screw the story. She wasn’t going to spend a week with a man who’d belittle her.
“Oh,” Telfer said, and gave the Spider a long look. “That’s impressive.”
Laodice’s shoulders settled. “It is, isn’t it? Let’s eat.”