Chapter 12
RORY
I’ve spent the last six evenings staring at the ceiling of my room, bored out of my mind. Usually, I go to my nightclub, Onyx, on the Lower East Side to find a woman or two and spend the rest of the evening with them.
After meeting Savannah, I can’t go back to living like that. That routine does nothing for me now.
If she knew how often I think about what it’s like to just spend time with her, she’d quit RHL and block my number. And if that doesn’t do it, then discovering how often I hack into security cameras and watch her would certainly send her running for the hills.
Or a police station.
But here I am on a Friday night, monitoring the footage of the security camera across the street from Savannah’s apartment on my laptop while I sit on my bed in nothing but my silk ruby boxers.
I must look ridiculous with my computer on my thighs, staring at the screen as I eat my heavenly pepperoni pizza dipped in ranch.
Even though Sal’s Pizza is the best pizza in the city, I can’t take my eyes off my monitor. If someone walked in right now, they’d probably think I’m watching a super captivating movie or porn.
But no.
Adjusting my glasses with my wrist, I lean closer, studying the little speck on the video to determine if it’s something on the camera lens or a glitch on my laptop.
A knock at my bedroom door puts me in a pickle.
“Rory? Can I come in?”
My mouth is full of crust, cheese, and sauce, so my reply is jumbled. “Jutaminte!”
I don’t want anyone to see what I’m doing, but my hands are covered in pizza sauce, ranch, and grease.
Shit, shit, shit.
“What?” The same voice shouts from the hallway.
Using my forearm, I push the top of the monitor toward me, getting my laptop halfway closed as I search for a napkin. I just had a whole pile right here. There’s no way I used them all. I’m not that messy of an eater.
“I’m coming in! You’d better have clothes on!”
Quickly, I lick my fingers and wipe them on my bare abdomen. I finish up right as Luke pokes his head in, and my heartbeat picks up.
He scans the room, checking to see if I have a guest, I’m sure. When his eyes land on me, he wrinkles his forehead. “No date tonight?”
Licking my dry lips, I glance down at my tilted laptop. “Nope. Not tonight.”
Luke pinches his lips as he looks like he’s mulling something over in his mind. He stays put in the doorway and opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
He’s going to bring up what I saw the other day, isn’t he? I know he saw me there. Or he could bring up the kiss outside my office.
I’m really fucking things up here.
Instead, he finally gets out, “Okay. Cool.”
“Everything okay?” Blinking, I try to understand what’s going on with him.
Is he embarrassed? He doesn’t have any reason to be embarrassed. If anyone has cause for embarrassment, it’s me.
“Yep. Goodnight,” he answers, his voice rising an octave, then leaves, shutting the door behind him.
I deflate and drag my hand down my face.
When I followed Savannah to the Brooklyn Heights Library, I thought I’d casually bump into her, acting like it was a simple coincidence. We’d talk and then I’d ask her out to dinner or something.
But what I found was the last thing I was expecting. At first, I thought Luke was punishing me. I know he saw me kissing Savannah in the street the day I met her. I just don’t know why he would be mad about that.
Then I felt something shift. Luke suddenly looked different to me. Seeing him with her, I wasn’t angry. I wanted more. The anticipation was exciting.
I just about bolted when Luke opened his eyes and saw me there, but then he winked.
He fucking winked at me.
I’ve known Luke most of my life, and it’s never been like that between us. I don’t even know if that’s how he meant it. Since then, I’ve told myself that it was the heat of the moment and nothing more.
But then, when we were outside of my office, I pinned him against the wall and kissed him. I had never kissed another man before, and I doubt that if it were anyone other than Luke, it would have felt the same.
It felt like coming home. It felt natural. It felt right.
Then, like a coward, I ran away. Could I be any more of an asshole? I can’t even imagine what he thinks of me now.
And then he walks in here and seems just as flustered as I am…
Fuck.
Mussing my hair, I pull at my lightly peppered strands in frustration. I thought I was supposed to go through stuff like this in my twenties, not my late forties.
Deciding there’s nothing I can do about it at the moment, I wake up my laptop to resume my super stimulating activity.
I don’t know what I’m expecting to see when my screen comes back to life, but spotting Savannah and another woman on my screen dressed to the nines is not it.
The image is grainy, another reason to put up my own cameras, but I can still make out the way the short red dress Savannah is wearing hugs her body. The few pixels, depicting her sensual hips, are enough to have me thinking with my dick rather than my brain.
The other woman waves her hand in the air, hailing a taxi as she and Savannah huddle together for warmth.
My jaw ticks. A taxi is better than the subway, but I still don’t like it.
A yellow sedan pulls up to the curb next to them, and the women open the rear door, shuffling into the backseat.
“Where do you think you’re going, Dream Girl?” I utter to myself as the taxi drives away.
I take note of the medallion number and follow their path through CCTV footage. They head north, crossing the Williamsburg Bridge into Manhattan, specifically the Lower East Side.
The taxi slows to a stop in front of a familiar location, and my nostrils flare.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing there?” Savannah can’t hear me. I know that, and it’s probably a good thing because I’m gripping the base of my laptop so hard that I think it might crack.
I watch as Savannah and her friend get out of the cab and scurry to the entrance of their destination. There’s a line, so they’ll have to wait in the cold. They hug each other, sharing body heat.
Keeping my laptop open on my bed, I stride to my closet and dress in my plain black shirt, black sport coat, and slim-fit black pants. I slide on my shoes, then dart into my bathroom to fix my hair and refresh my cologne.
Satisfied with my appearance, I return to my laptop to find Savannah and her friend being led to the front of the line by a man I recognize. He and the bouncer exchange a nod, and the bouncer opens the velvet rope to let the women inside.
Swiping my phone from my bedside table, I make a quick call.
“Good evening, sir. What can I do for you?” William is formal as always.
“Bring the car around,” I instruct with a little more bite than I should. “I’m going out.”
The man leading Savannah and her friend places his hand on her back, urging her to walk in front of him now, and everything inside me grows hot.
“Where to, sir?” William inquires respectfully.
“Onyx.”