Page 17 of The Perfect Mistake

He shakes his head. Runs a hand along the back of his neck. “Free to use.”

“Oh.” Even when he’s home? Somehow that strikes me as unlikely. He seems like a man who guards his privacy fiercely. While we might be living in the same apartment, I suspect I won’t be getting any glimpses of the man behind the mask.

“How was Willa today?” he asks.

“She wasn’t a problem at all. I think she’s evaluating me, but she kept to herself.”

“Good. Let me know if that changes.”

How bad could an eight-year-old get? I think. But I just nod. “Of course.”

There’s a beat of silence between us, and then another. I force a smile to my face. “Where do you sleep?”

“My bedroom is in the opposite hall,” he says. The kids’ bedrooms are between us, then.

He turns toward the door, but pauses with his large hand on the frame. “Welcome, Isabel.”

My chest tightens at the sound of him saying my name. “Thank you… Alec.”

Isabel

My mother’s voice is a flurry of rapidly intermingled Spanish and English, and tinged with worry. I listen to her through my headphones and continue unpacking the clothes I’d brought to my new home. Good thing my previous place has been a furnished rental. All I own could be packed in two suitcases and a large IKEA bag. My bike in tow, and here I am, living in Alec Connovan’s multimillion-dollar condo.

“Maybe you should focus on healing instead,” Mom says. “So you can rejoin the ballet in a few months.”

“Mom, I have to earn money.”

“Move back home, then. You can give ballet classes to the kids in the area.”

That makes me chuckle. “I don’t think a single one would be interested. This is a good solution, Mom. It’s stable. At least until I get my hip in order.”

“I don’t know this man,” she says firmly. “He could be anyone. And living with him? It’s not safe.”

I sigh. “He’s Connie’s brother, Mom. You know Connie. You’ve met Connie.”

“So? I don’t care if he’s the Pope’s own brother. He can still be sleazy.”

“He isn’t,” I say. Not even a little bit, not once in the years I’ve known him. Unfortunately.

Her disapproval bothers me. It always has. But this week has brought plenty of lows already, and it seems like my quota is met. Mom’s tone of voice rolls right off my back.

Telling her and Dad that I’d been cut from the Company had been the hardest part of the week. I’d done it in a text to Mom, knowing that she would spread the news like wildfire in a matter of hours. It had saved me a lot of difficult conversations.

“Come to dinner on Sunday,” she says. “Sebastian and Elena will be there. Your cousin, too. You need to be with family right now.”

Yes, where everyone will have a thousand questions. My siblings have already been blowing up my phone, and it’ll be even worse in person.

“Maybe. I don’t know my schedule yet,” I say. “I’ll have to double-check.”

I can hear a frown in her voice. “Your new employer doesn’t own you.”

“Of course, he doesn’t.”

“You need to get weekends off.”

“I got none when I was dancing.” A sigh escapes me. “I have to go, Mom. Tell Dad I love him.”

“You won’t tell your mom?”

---