21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Natalie
I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at my phone—not just today but for the past couple of days.
It’s become a part of my dreams, too. I dream about getting a call from Ethan and dining at a gorgeous restaurant with him. When I close my eyes, his hand is clasped around my neck, and his mouth is on mine, kissing me like I’m being punished.
I know I’m not. I know it’s because he wants me that bad.
Then I wake up, and I reach for my phone on the bedside table without thinking—like a habit formed over time, one that has proven difficult to break. It’s only when I see the notifications, none of them from him, that I realize what I’m doing.
It’s then I realize that Ethan is never going to call me back.
“He’s an asshole,” Danielle says with enough vehemence and anger for both of us. “I thought he was a good guy, just a busy one, but he’s an asshole.” She rolls her eyes as if the emphasis would pass her point further across.
The problem is, I can’t agree with her. I know I should—Ethan made it seem like we were something and then ghosted me out of the blue. And it wasn’t the first time.
But I can’t.
I keep thinking back to how he looked when I opened the door and the hunger in his reach when he kissed me. I can feel him tremble as he makes love to me… as he tells me that I’m in his head.
I’m in places where nobody else has reached.
Why would he tell me all of that just to leave again?
Danielle tugs on my arm, making a whiny sound. “Natalieeeee. You need to stop thinking about him. There are other guys out there. Better than an elusive billionaire who thinks the world revolves around him so that he can play with people’s hearts.”
“What if something happened?” I find myself asking as I hold my pillow closer to my body. “Maybe he got roped up with a hectic business trip? I don’t know,” I bite my lip, “it could happen. It’s only been five days.”
She scoffs and tugs on my pillow, making me lose my balance. “Five days is a week, darling. Also—” the pillow hits my face as she tosses it from her side of the bed—“it doesn’t take more than a minute to send a text. He could’ve said, “ I’ll be occupied for the next couple of days, but trust this… I’ll be thinking about you.”
Her delivery, with an exaggerated accent and flair, makes me laugh. “He doesn’t talk like that,” I argue.
“ He doesn’t talk like that,” Danielle mocks me. “I don’t care what he sounds like or if he looks like a Greek statue—some of them are ugly,” she throws in, “but he’s a dick nonetheless. And that’s why we’re going to the club tonight. ”
“Nope,” I shake my head. “No, no, no. I am not in the mood to be sandwiched between people who want nothing more than to hump each other. That’s your thing,” I push my hand in her direction. “I’ll stay there and watch a soap opera or something.”
Danielle, whose shtick is never to take no for an answer, rolls off the bed and walks over to my end. I barely see it coming when she grabs my arm and pulls hard. “Get your butt up!”
“No way in hell,” I protest, trying to loosen her grip. My fingers dig into her skin, but she doesn’t let up. “Danielle,” I plead, “I have better things to do. I need to find a job, or I’ll be out on the street for not paying my rent.”
She stops and squints hard. “You’re broke? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I’m not, but a lie is better than her agenda for the evening.
I sigh tiredly, letting my shoulders slump. “I don’t know. You’ve been working hard, and you had that thing with your boss. I didn’t want to bother you.”
Danielle pouts as she lets go and hops on the bed, putting her arms around my shoulders. Her chin rests on my shoulder blade as she kisses my cheek.
“Why would you think it’d be a bother? I’d quit my job for you. You know that.”
“What scares me is knowing that you’ll actually turn in your resignation letter,” I say, chiding her. She tilts her head and gives me a puppy look—one that has never failed to work. “I’m fine,” I pat her hand. “I’m okay.”
She lets go and retakes her position in front of me. “That’s what you say all the time. What about a weekend trip? Just you and me? I’m sure I can get the weekend off, and we’ll go somewhere with a view. What’d you say? ”
It sounds like a good idea, but it also sounds like running away from my problems. I should do what rational Natalie would—get a gig and bury myself in a pile of activities. I haven’t been reaching out to people I know or applying for event planning jobs since I quit working for Anthony.
Sensing my hesitation and reading the room, Danielle offers another suggestion, “What about Anthony?” She says.
I arch my brow, and she raises her hand, asking for patience. “ Just hear me out. He’s the biggest client you’ve had so far. He’s also connected you with other people, and you talked about how friendly he is. Why don’t you hit him up?”
That’s right.
I haven’t told Danielle that I was harassed in Anthony’s apartment. I didn’t tell her about the Cross cousin coming home drunk with a different woman on his arm.
The only reason she knows about my “relationship” with Ethan—if I can call it that—is because I told her about sleeping with him before he ghosted me the first time.
I don’t think I’d ever tell her , either. I know Danielle. She’d be halfway to Anthony’s house before I’m done talking. While I appreciate her protective nature, her anger will change and do nothing.
Going against the Cross family is like… rock climbing without tools. You’d claw against rocks and end up scraped and bloody.
“Club,” I say, changing the subject. “Why don’t we try that?”
Her eyes narrow as she cocks her head, studying me. “Why?”
“Why?”
Danielle nods. “Yeah. You were against it a moment ago, and now you’re bringing it up. What are you hiding, Natalie Sarah Monroe?” She calls my full name with her arms folded and a stern tone to her voice. “What are you keeping from me? ”
Welp.
My response is a dash from the bed, with a mumbled excuse, “ I need to use the bathroom , ” and locking the door so she doesn’t come in.
It doesn’t stop Danielle from banging against the door, though.
“Natalie Sarah Monroe,” she repeats. “I’m prepared to spend all week in your apartment, so you might as well get cozy there. Because the moment you’re out, I want everything. You’re not supposed to hide secrets from your best friends.”
I turn on the sink tap to drown out the rest of her voice. Bracing my hand on the edges of the beige-colored sink, I stare at my blurred reflection in the mirror with a sigh.
I’m spiraling.
That’s the only way to explain it.
Defending a man who kissed me while spilled juice ran across my floor, then took me out to dinner afterward… a man who pinned me against his desk and then proceeded to go underground isn’t something I’d normally do.
Heck, letting a man like Ethan in isn’t like me.
It should’ve ended when I smelt sandalwood or the moment I saw the scar on his back. If I hadn’t felt the flush of pride when he defended me at the party or let myself sink into his care when he thought I was hurt… I wouldn’t have fallen for him.
Now—my heart is somewhere across the city, nestled in the arms of a man who doesn’t know how deep he’s burrowed into my life.
“Danielle is right,” I admit grudgingly. “I should go on a vacation.”
Somewhere far from Philadelphia. Where I know I won’t think about Ethan Cross.
If that’s even possible.