Page 67 of Pretending I'm Yours

“I’ll order you a coffee, my treat,” I say as Maya and I rise, waving off Harold’s protest. “It’s my pleasure. It was so good to see you both. Let’s get together again soon.”

“Yes, let’s,” Bailey Anne says. “And have them send over a dark chocolate raspberry mousse with his coffee, too. I think Harold might need some sugar to help keep him awake. And two spoons, in case he needs help finishing the whole thing.”

Maya laughs. “A woman after my own heart. Always make it easy for people to share their dessert.”

“Damned straight,” Bailey Anne says. She and Harold wave and offer wishes for a happy New Year as we move back toward the front of the bar.

“Thank you for that,” Maya whispers when we’re out of ear shot. “I like them.”

“And they liked you,” I say. “Thanks for keeping an open mind.”

“My mind is wide open,” she murmurs, her voice husky in a way that goes straight to my dick, easing his fears that we might never get to be naked with her again. “I’m sorry. I think I may have misjudged you.”

“You had every right to misjudge me. I’ve been keeping secrets, and I still haven’t explained this morning.”

She tips her head in acknowledgment of the fact. “No, you haven’t.”

“But I will,” I assure her. “That’s part of the next surprise. It’s waiting for us in the private library.”

“Private library, huh?” Her gaze flickers with anticipation. “That’s a pretty exciting surprise all by itself. You know I love a library, but I need to visit the ladies’ room first. Champagne and a small bladder. And I may have had a martini or two this afternoon, so…”

“You had every right to a martini or two after the day you had.” I motion toward the end of the hall closest to the front lobby, where we both entered the club last time. “I think the closest restrooms are in the front. I’ll send a hostess to waitfor you and show you to the room after? I want to make sure everything’s ready.”

“All right. See you soon.” She nods as she backs away, clearly still curious, but far less suspicious than when we arrived half an hour ago.

“Soon,” I promise, gaining confidence that I’m going to win her back.

I remain confident as I offer Harold and Bailey Anne a last grateful wave, speak with Raven, one of the hostesses, about Maya, and hurry toward the small library. There, beneath the spines of books in faded green and blue, the loan paperwork I had messengered over earlier is already spread out on the leather-topped desk in the corner. I would prefer to give Maya the money outright, no strings attached, but I know her well enough to realize that wouldn’t fly with her.

She doesn’t want charity. She wants to build a business of her ownonher own.

Hopefully she won’t consider a zero interest, forty-year loan charity…

I just want her to have options, to either do the repairs needed on the Red Hook property or look for another investment that will require less work. Half the real estate developers in the city come from old money. They had help getting where they are today and wouldn’t be nearly as far along if they hadn’t had a leg up on everyone else.

I want to give Maya that leg up.

I want to give her…everything.

I pace the small space, mentally rehearsing my speech, turning the words over and over in my head, trying to find the perfect way to tell my fake girlfriend that I want her to be my real girlfriend.

Ten minutes pass. Then twenty, but I’m so lost in thought that I’m only just starting to wonder what’s taking so long when Raven bursts in without knocking, startling me.

My throat tightens at the stricken expression on her face.

“I’m sorry, sir, but she's gone,” Raven says, her brow furrowing. “I started to get worried and went in to check on Ms. Swallows, just to make sure everything was okay. But the window was open in the restroom and she was already down the fire escape. I tried to call for her, but either she didn’t hear me?—”

“Or didn’t want to stop,” I finish, bracing a hand on the desk as my stomach pitches.

What happened? Everything was going so well.

Or so I thought…

But clearly it wasn’t going “so well”, or she wouldn’t be gone.

Gone…

She’s fucking gone, and I have to get out there and fix this before it’s too late.

---