Chapter 8 #2
“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Lee, but William is demanding to see the Thornton files. He says Caleb authorized it. I told him you were off today, but he said he saw you walk in here.”
God, I really hate that punching coworkers in the throat is frowned upon, because William is really due for several. My moment of indecision about Aaron’s invitation evaporates, replaced by the familiar annoyance when I hear William’s name.
“Tell Mr. Wilson that if he wants access to my files, he’ll need to wait until tomorrow. I’m not working today. Also, let him know he can only review them under supervision.”
Cindy nods, her expression shifting to one of determination. “Yes, Ms. Lee. I’ll let him know. If I don’t see you before you leave, have a good day.”
After she leaves, I glance once more at the information about the comic launch before shutting down my browser.
I shouldn’t go. It’s not professional. It’s not my scene.
It’s not… except I’m curious. About Aaron, his brother, about this world so different from my own.
And maybe—just maybe—there’s a tiny part of me that misses the Minji from college who would’ve jumped at the chance to try something new.
Scoffing at myself, I jab the elevator button.
That I’d even entertain his invitation proves he’s wormed his way into my thoughts.
Just three weeks, I silently chant. Three weeks until he vanishes and my life returns to its proper order.
The elevator arrives with a soft ding, but instead of selecting the parking garage, my finger betrays me and presses the roof access button.
The ancient door protests with a metallic groan as I push through it.
A gust of wind immediately assaults me, sending my hair flying across my vision.
I secure the wayward strands and venture onto the vast concrete slab.
Nobody ventures up here—technically allowed, but fifty-six stories above Manhattan tends to deter most people. Perfect for me.
I've escaped to this concrete island during impossible cases, when depositions and motions suffocate me. But personal dilemmas? Those I’ve always contained, filed away, never needing open sky to process them.
Then Aaron Singleton appeared, redrawing my boundaries without permission.
A comic book party. The absurdity forces a laugh from my throat.
Minji Lee surrounded by artists and cape enthusiasts. And still…
My phone buzzes against my hip. Not Aaron, though something in me hoped it might be. It's Demi.
Demi
Dinner tonight? I have GOSSIP.
Me
I can’t tonight. Rain check?
Her response is immediate.
Demi
No way. You’ve been avoiding me since you started listening to those damn audiobooks. I need DETAILS!!! 7 PM at my place. I’m cooking.
I sigh, knowing resistance is futile. When Demi decides she’s hosting dinner, the only acceptable response is to show up hungry and prepared for interrogation.
Me
Fine. 7 PM. I’ll bring wine.
I put my phone down and attempt to refocus on the Thornton case, but my ability to concentrate is completely disrupted. With William’s power maneuvers, Aaron’s invitation, and Demi’s upcoming interrogation, it seems like the meticulous control I’ve kept over my life is slipping away.
Well, that is enough, brooding for the day.
I leave the roof and head back to my office, grabbing my purse and keys. The work can wait until tomorrow. Right now, I need a hot shower and a quick cat nap to recharge before facing my best friend.
Demi resides in a transformed warehouse in Chelsea, a space as lively and diverse as she is.
She invested heavily in this place because it also needed to accommodate her greenhouse.
A greenhouse I detest and vow never to enter again.
When I arrive, holding an expensive bottle of cabernet, the aroma of something mouthwatering and inviting drifts from her open door.
“Finally!” she exclaims, enveloping me in a strong hug, taking the wine, and guiding me inside. “I was starting to think you had completely ghosted me.”
“I’ve been busy,” I reply, putting my bag down and removing my shoes.
“Too busy for your best friend? Even after you listened to those audiobooks and didn’t give me a full report?” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.
“The books were interesting.”
“Interesting?” Demi scoffs, stirring something on the stove that smells divine. “That’s like calling the Beyonce concert at Coachella a ‘nice time.’ Come on, Mimi. Give me more than that. Aaron Singleton’s books are literary orgasms, and you know it.”
“Before this conversation goes left, I have something to share.”
“What?” Her eyes widen.
“I think I knew Aaron from college.”
“What?” Demi nearly drops her wooden spoon. “You knew him? From college? And you’re just now telling me this?”
“I said I think. You remember the guy I slept with my last year of college?”
She has her thinking face on. “Wait, the chocolate God? The one you said had a big dick and might ruin your chances at graduating early because you were always at his dorm room, getting dicked down nightly for two months straight, needing three Plan Bs level Aaron? That guy?”
I roll my eyes. “I mean, yes, I think he is that guy, but I don’t want to ask him because if he’s not then I’m giving this Aaron an open invitation to ask about my past, something I forbid him to do. And I don’t want to make this complicated.” I huff.
“Wait, does he resemble that Aaron?”
“Yes… kind of, but then again I don’t want to be like—”
Demi laughs out loud, already knowing what I’m trying to say. “Okay, don’t answer that. But what if he is college Aaron? Like you didn’t just know Aaron Singleton before he became the Aaron Singleton you were thoroughly fuck—”
“Demi! Enough.”
“Are you kidding? This is the best story I’ve heard all year. So, did you ever—”
“No.” I cut her off. “Remember I ghosted him and deleted my Facebook so he couldn’t find me once I graduated early.”
“Oh, I still think that was the stupidest shit you did, but the past is in the past.” She sighs. “Okay, okay, so you possibly slept with the greatest romance writer of our generation before he even picked up a pen. If it’s not him, well—what was the college Aaron’s last name?”
“The last thing I was worried about during our time together was his last name. He didn’t share much information about himself. If I remember correctly only, I was sharing information, but it didn’t bother me because the sex was amazing.”
Demi nods. “I guess you’re right, but do you remember anything? Like I know you two must’ve talked about something. Did he give you a nickname? If you see his dick again would you remember?”
“Is that your way of telling me I should sleep with him?” I look at her with wide eyes.
“I mean, yeah, duh. You might as well, right? If it’s college Aaron, can you imagine the sex now that you’re both adults?” She smiles, already spiraling into a world of possibility. “I’m calling it now. This is fate.”
“I don’t believe in all of that. Can we change the topic, please?” I pour myself a glass of wine. “You mentioned some gossip? It must be intriguing if you’re cooking your Sunday dinner on a Tuesday.”
Demi’s eyes sparkle as she serves up our meal—baked macaroni and cheese, candied yams topped with marshmallows, fried chicken, cabbage, spicy rice, corn muffins, and her renowned potato salad.
“Oh, definitely! I’m working on a huge installation for a comic book launch.
The publisher is a total heartthrob named Axel.
He wears the most attractive glasses and has hands that look like they could create you from scratch.
I wouldn’t mind letting him use my naked body as a canvas. His hands would be the paintbru—”
“Demi, stop. Are you talking about Axel Comics?”
“Yes!” She sets our plates on her dining table. “How did you know? Are you into comics? I mean I hear anime is all the craze now.”
I take another sip of wine before answering. “No, I’m not. Aaron invited me to that launch party.”
Demi freezes mid-motion, her mouth forming a perfect O.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say quickly, though the intensity of her reaction suggests otherwise. “He mentioned his brother was having an event and asked if I wanted to go.”
“Not a big deal?” Demi practically shrieks, dropping into her chair. “Minji Lee, this is huge! A romantic date to a glamorous event? This is like chapter twelve of Forbidden Desires coming to life!”
“It’s not a date,” I insist, jabbing my mac and cheese with unnecessary force. “And I haven’t even said I’ll go.”
Demi narrows her eyes, studying me with alarming perception. “But you want to. Come on don’t tell me you haven’t thought about seeing if there’s something between you two. Like, what if he is college Aaron? Like I said this just might be fate…”
“It would be completely inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?” Demi laughs, scooping a mountain of mac and cheese onto her plate. “If he is college Aaron then boundaries are no longer a thing—I mean, it is a thing but like for argument's sake, it’s not.”
“He’s a client,” I remind her, though Aaron isn’t exactly a client in the traditional sense.
“He’s a writer researching a book,” Demi counters, pointing her fork at me. “And anyway, like you said, he’ll be gone in a few weeks. What’s the harm in exploring a connection?”
I take a bite of the fried chicken to avoid answering immediately. The crispy skin gives way to perfectly juicy meat, and I close my eyes for a moment, savoring it.
“So,” Demi continues, undeterred by my silence, “this means we’ll be at the same event. Me creating the botanical installations, you on the arm of a best-selling romance author. It’s poetic.”
“I’m not going to be on anyone’s arm.”
“Fine, standing independently near a best-selling romance author.” She grins. “Either way, you need something to wear that isn’t from your lawyer’s capsule wardrobe.”