Chapter Twenty-One #2
He gives me a triumphant look. "What do you want to eat, Lola?"
"Whatever."
"You used to like green curry. Chicken or tofu?"
I know most places have more than those options, so I say, "Tofu."
But he doesn't react, he just places an order through the app and then shuts down both laptops, putting them away.
I excuse myself and go to the restroom, and I'm horrified by the high color staining my cheeks and the way my eyes sparkle and my lips are redder with heightened blood flow.
"As if I'm trying to give him signs I want him." I glare at my reflection. "Traitor."
When I come out, he is in the middle of an argument on the phone, and if I didn't know better, I would say it was his daughter instead of his sister, and it makes my stomach wobble.
"...I don't care... No, because I say so... There's always— Eleven, and that's final..."
I edge away from his office and sit behind my computer, making a few inroads into next week's work. There is always an ongoing project, so I can do that.
Because of course, it isn't over with his sister, and I'm not sure who my money is on for him getting the last word, but it makes me feel a little funny inside because he didn't sound like a brother.
Enzo sounded like a loving father, at least that is how my brain heard it. Would he be that way with his own kids?
When he comes out, he looks annoyed in a way that makes my heart hurt, like he is a good guy.
Like he was always a good guy when I was a kid.
"Getting the food," he mutters, pressing the button for the elevator.
When he comes back, the aroma of the food really makes my stomach rumble.
"Louie has actual knives and forks and plates in the room off yours."
I give him a dark look. "The kitchenette?"
"Yeah. And don't give me shit, Lola. You're not that much older than my sister, and I will discipline you as well as her."
I snort, keeping my mind out of the gutter. "I have to be almost ten years older than her or thereabouts. What did you order?"
I change the subject because I don't want to hit on our shared history. I don't want to soften more than I already have to him.
The smell of spices and herbs intensifies as I open the boxes and containers, taking a portion as he nods for me to do so.
Enzo grabs some of the red shrimp curry, offering some to me. But I shake my head, not because I don't want it, but because it feels intimate, even though he helps himself to some of the tofu.
I take some of the dumplings, leaving most for him, and a portion of the green papaya salad.
"Whiskey?" He pours some for himself. "I would offer you wine, but fuck if I know where Louie keeps it. If he keeps it here."
We are in his office, and I look around.
It is a man's man place, or it wants to be, with a cigar box and leather.
I swallow the words I want to say and just take a bite of the tofu.
"What?" Enzo asks.
"Nothing."
He pours whiskey for me and sits back after downing some spring rolls and a few shrimp, and he studies me. It is like the most intense first date or a weird job interview.
"You do that, you know." He takes another bite.
"Do what?"
"Don't say what's on your mind."
I frown and scoop up some sauce-soaked rice. "I don't want to get fired."
Enzo lets out a peal of laughter. "See, that's the kid I know. Backhanded sass all the fucking way."
"I'm not a kid, and you have the power."
"Bullshit."
"You're my boss."
He shrugs. "We're off the clock. What were you going to say?"
Backhanded sass, indeed. I direct a narrow-eyed look at him. "Not that I ever came up here, and unless you have a predilection for man cave aesthetics, I think the room is all dude man with money wannabe. So, I don't think Louie keeps wine."
"Maybe this is my thing."
"Maybe it is."
"Maybe when you're home, I like to beat my chest in here and admire my mansplaining awards." His lips twitch, and so do mine.
I so don't want to like him.
"I knew you had a collection."
"Snoop."
"Good judge of character."
He eyes me, and the mood shifts. "What's your take on Louie?"
"I don't really rate him beyond being decent—a good boss, good enough to give me a job when I needed one." I bite my lip, aware it sounds like I'm desperate. I am desperate, but I don't want Enzo to know, so I push on. "Everyone liked him, so I didn't have issues."
"I'm not PR."
"But you know him."
"I also didn't ask for a review."
I eat some more, then finally take a small sip of the drink.
Something tells me not to get drunk around him. Or even tipsy. It doesn't feel...safe. As in, I don't trust myself to keep all my thoughts locked in tight if there is some kind of lubricant.
And I can't think of the word lubricant with one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen because I might be a little wet.
Crap.
"He's a rich guy." And then I shut my mouth.
He stares at me, waiting.
I sigh. "Nothing wrong with that, but rich. From money. It is a vibe."
"And you don't like that vibe."
I look at my plate. "My father died because of that vibe."
"Yeah, and I'm sorry."
Startled, I glance at him. "You're rich but don't give off that vibe. I mean, you dress the part, but...that work we did. I know you're skilled in that field, that is more than clear. But do you need to do that?"
"What's that?"
I tuck my feet under the chair. "Illegal things? Because that felt illegal."
When he doesn't answer, I push on.
"Illegal things like helping your dad."
He breathes out as he eats another spring roll. "Sometimes, I help him. But I have tried to distance myself from that life as much as possible."
I nod, not sure if I believe him, not sure if it is my place to even go here.
"Lola, I have worked hard to pave my own way in the world and make a name for myself outside of my father's shadow."
"I get that. Respect that. I just... I was around that world and not part of it.
" I'm not sure why I'm telling him, but once the words start, I can't stop them.
"When Dad died, he was up to his eyeballs in illegal shit.
I know this because I was questioned. Everything was seized.
Almost everything. I don't think they found any list of client names because no one else had the feds all over them. "
I swallow. "I went from rich to poor and alone. And the one thing I wanted, the only thing, was my father back."
"I'm sorry, Lola."
"Are you?" But I shake my head. "You and your father were in deep, too. Years ago. Something happened with our parents, but I don't know what."
He tops up his glass and eats some rice and curry. "I really don't know much. I might be older, but we were both kids."
I don't want to believe him, but I guess I do. After all, it makes sense. Neither of us were adults. And teens and kids get protected or ignored. They might be trained to take over, but the grit and details aren't taught until later.
Adulthood.
Not that that would have been my life. But it should have been his. So, maybe he is distancing himself.
More and more, my reasons to hate him are slipping away.
But maybe I should try to find out why my dad took his own life.
I look at my plate and scoop up another mouthful.
We eat in companionable silence, and I can't help sneaking small looks at him.
I can't believe I fantasized about him and Alex last night. How I got off pretending...
Oh, boy. No. I can't get hot over him right now.
I drain my drink and push my plate away.
"What are you doing?"
"Going."
"And here I thought you were defrosting to me."
"You need to get Lyndall." I hurry out.
"She's fine."
I get my things, suddenly both hot and flustered. "It's late, I need to get home, and you need to get your sister."
He glances at his phone. "Yeah, it is getting up there. Almost nine. But why the rush?"
"No rush. I just...need...to...go."
"Now? Well, I'm sure your boyfriend's wondering where you are."
"That's some fishing expedition."
"It's a what now?" He looks so genuinely confused I go into panic mode.
"I don't have a boyfriend."
Enzo stares at me.
I edge away. "What? It's ten. Home. No boyfriend, because I don't want one. That includes—"
I stop, horrified.
"Includes?"
"Good night, and have a good weekend, Enzo. Sir."
"Interesting," he murmurs in a way that makes me even more hot and flustered.
I make a hasty exit before I do something I might regret.