Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Andrew
Despite it being April in New York City, the heat from the sun reflected off the buildings and felt like August. My phone buzzed and I answered it. “Andrew Blake.”
“Andrew, you know it’s me calling, just say ‘Hi Sofia.’ Anyway, what the hell happened with Goode and why haven’t you called me already?”
I laughed. “I just stepped out right now.”
“I know,” she said, “I can see you.”
I glanced across at my waiting limo and squinted to see if I could see inside. The window wound down to reveal Sofia. “Get in here,” she said, grinning. “I want to hear everything.”
I’d been completely honest with Goode. Told him everything—even that Sofia was my assistant.
He’d sat quietly as I told him I hated him for what he’d done to the magazine and hated him more for not selling to me, even though we both knew it wasn’t turning a profit.
His defenses had been up until I talked about co-ownership.
“He wants to do it,” I said as we pulled out into traffic. “He’ll be a minority owner. We’re privately owned, so he can pretend to whoever cares that he still owns it. If it goes well, he can take the credit; if it goes badly, he can blame me. Just like you said.”
Sofia grinned. “Holy shit, it worked.”
“Honesty is the best policy, apparently.”
“Guess that means I’m busy on Monday doing the operations planning. You might have to get a new assistant.”
I groaned, an uncomfortable knot lodging in my throat. “No way. I don’t like new people who get offended because I don’t speak to them.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “New York, you’ve been good to me, as always.” She made the sign of the cross and looked up to the roof of the limo. I was sure she wasn’t going to find whatever she was looking for up there.
“What’s next?” I asked.
“JFK,” she said. “Everything’s in the trunk.”
“Back to London via the mile high club?” I coughed, trying to dislodge the nodule of disquiet I couldn’t quite swallow down.
There was no doubt the last few days in New York had shifted things between Sofia and me, and I wasn’t ready to give her up.
I wasn’t sure if I ever would be. I just couldn’t shake the storm clouds gathering in my brain.
I’d been here before—sleeping with someone I worked a few paces away from.
It hadn’t worked then, and it couldn’t work now.
Einstein wasn’t wrong when he said the definition of insanity was repeating history and expecting a different result, but I might already be too far gone to walk away from Sofia.