Page 27 of Mastered By Desire

A flare of jealousy heats my chest. Is she living with him, staying with him?

After Leah leaves, Dmitri looks up. His gaze finds me. His expression clouds with anger.

I wonder, briefly, if he will march over here to warn me off. I welcome the conflict, honestly. The excuse to needle him, to prompt his ire. Perhaps I could also push him in Leah’s direction. If she’s living with him, I may not need to interfere at all. The problem with that is I won’t have a way to watch the unfolding lust.

I’ll need to move faster than I thought if I have any hope of witnessing the heat explode between them.

His gaze on me is broken when two young women sidle up and flank him at the bar. Their move is obvious, their interest written plainly on their faces. One of them orders drinks from Betty and the other turns to Dmitri, a smile on her pink-painted lips.

Dmitri is polite. I can’t hear what he says. He must be making an excuse because the women offer him pretty pouts. A second later, he walks toward his station at the club entrance.

My phone buzzes with a call. I glance at the screen and groan. Claudia, again.

I dip back into my office and shut the door behind me, which muffles the music to a hypnotic bass.

“Claudia,” I say.

“Gagey.”

“Are you all right?” I ask carefully. I’m at risk of offending her by being too solicitous, but my concern is genuine. Between her mental health and casual substance abuse, she walks a dangerous line.

“Fine, fine.” She huffs out a sigh. “Harvey called.”

“Claudia. Listen to me. You don’t have to answer his calls, texts, emails, nothing.”

“He made me who I am.”

“Youmade you who you are.” I grip the edge of my desk, struggling to ground myself in this moment and avoid spiraling into my own history with Harvey. “Everything that’s good in you, every success you’ve had, that’syou.”

“I don’t know.” She speaks slowly, the consonants running together.

“Claudia, sweetheart, I’m going to call Vero, all right?”

“She’s on vacation.”

“Well, this is why we pay her the big money.”

“You really think this is a ’mergency?”

“Yes.” I’m not a mental health professional, but I’m familiar enough with Claudia to know she needs help. I can hear it in her voice. “Can you sit tight for a few minutes while I call her?”

“Yep. Gagey?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She’s the only person I’ve said the words to, other than my parents when I was very young, before everything changed.

I make the call. Vero can’t drop her vacation and immediately travel back to LA, but her assistant is nearby to stay with Claudia. Vero explains the arrangements to me and assures me that my presence in LA isn’t necessary.

It makes me an awful friend, but I’m relieved I won’t have to travel down there.

“Gage,” Vero says.

I’ve interrupted her vacation, so I brace myself for a reprimand. Not that it would do much good. I will always do whatever is necessary to help my friend, even if that means someone’s holiday is cut short.

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