Page 45 of Falling

“I know. Zaddy.”

“By all means, call me Zaddy in front of your brother. That should go over well.”

“Fine. Boyfriend.” She scowls. “So boring.”

“I like boring; it’s nice and simple.”

“Except you’re anything but boring or simple,” she says. “At least not in bed.”

“Just wait until I bring out the big toys.”

“You had me at big…Zaddy.”

seventeen

PETER

I’ve always thoughtwindow-shopping was pointless. Why spend hours browsing with no intention of buying anything? That was until the first time I went with Geneva. Somehow, she turned it into a blood sport. It’s now a great way to spend a day listening to her eviscerate store after store.

“All I’m saying is, they would sell more by changing the color palette in the store. Nothing about chartreuse says ‘please buy my cardigan.’ Unless it’s ripped, spray painted, and makes you want to rage against authority,” she says, walking out of the latest shop. “They had some good stuff in there too. But, eww.” She does a little shimmy to show her opinion of the assault to her senses.

“So I take it I should tell the painters to pick another color for the new office?”

“You don’t have to worry about that. Brontë and I have already agreed on a color palette.”

“Do I dare ask what color my office will be?”

“You dare not,” she says. “I want it to be a surprise. You should see the new logo I’m designing. It says young, edgy, but still traditionally elegant.” She uses her hands to make her words look like they’re on a marquee. “What are you smiling at?”

“You,” I answer, taking her hand. “I knew we were making the right decision.”

“Right decision about what?”

“About making you the head of operations.”

“What?” Geneva gapes at me. Rand, Brontë, and I discussed last month our roles in the company. It was unanimously agreed that Geneva is the most obvious choice to keep the train on the tracks. No one else can fill the role like she can. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” I ask with a snort of derision. “Because, G, you’re brilliant. You’re organized, goal-driven, and have a way of making people give you what you want. That’s on top of how fucking genus you are at the advertising. You already have branding ideas, for Christ’s sake. None of the rest of us have even thought about it.”

“I just assumed I’d keep doing what I did before at Randolph Development.” We’ve stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Good thing it’s not the height of shopping season. I’m not sure why she’s so surprised by what I’ve said. To us, she is the obvious choice.

“No, you’re going to be in charge of keeping this whole shitting-shebang going. Rand will still buy properties, Brontë and I are going to do the design work, and you’ll have to run the business. Oh, you still have to do all the stuff you did before as well.”

“Okay. Well.” She stares down the street in thought. “I guess I should start putting in some overtime then. There’s a lot that needs to be done.” We head back toward the hotel. “I think I’ll start with kicking Rand into a smaller office.” The wicked smirk is back on her face. The look I love so much. “I mean, should I even be sleeping with someone that’s beneath me?”

“Beneath you? Definitely. Sleeping? Not so much.”

“Speaking of, what do you think about ordering in tonight? That way I can just lick it off of your abs.”

“Damn. I can’t say no now.”

“I know. You’re way too infatuated with me to ever say no.”

“That I am.”

* * *

I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed. We ordered dinner in, but nothing has been licked off my abs yet. Geneva sits across from me at the small table in our suite, waving her fork around. She’s finished her salad and has moved on to a piece of carrot cake.

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