Page 23 of The Confidentiality Clause
“The worst ones never do.”
Her words hang like a banner over my head. I don’t reply. After a few minutes of silence, she pushes off the rail.
“I’m going to get started on dinner. You can work while I cook for us if you want.”
“You don’t have to cook for me,” I tell her as we walk back inside. “I can have a sandwich or something. Wait–how do you have food here already?”
She walks to the kitchen and opens the retro-style fridge. The inside is stocked full of drinks, fruits, vegetables, and plenty of other things I can’t make out from across the room.
“I had groceries delivered, then asked the cleaning crew to put them away for me. Also, I’m going to cook for myself anyway, so I might as well cook for two.”
She begins pulling ingredients out of the fridge.
“You’ve brought me on a free vacation. I can’t let you cook for me too.”
“I abducted you and took you to a cabin in the woods. The least I can do is feed you.”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
She laughs. “Go get your laptop, Carolina. I know you’re dying to check work.”
I actually haven’t thought about work since we got here. My brows push together.I haven’t thought about work.Sure, it hasn’t been long, but I can’t recall a time where it wasn’t at least a background thought. Maybe Ariel’s weird plan is working.
I shake my head. Distractions are something I can’t afford.
I go out to the car and get my black leather messenger bag. When I come back inside, Ariel is placing a cast-iron pan on the stove. I sit down in the circle chair that faces the mountain view.
“Password for the WiFi isDukeblue1with a capitalD,” Ariel says.
“I’d almost rather not have WiFi than have to type that in,” I say, drawing a laugh out of her.
“My plan is working,” she teases.
More than I’d care to admit.
I shift my focus to my email inbox. I need to be productive, no matter my location.
After a few minutes of responding to brands and clients, Ariel asks, “Do you mind if I play some instrumental music? I like to listen to it while I cook.”
“It’s your place,” I say with a wave of my hand. “You do whatever you want.”
“If you keep being weirdly polite, I’m going to take you to the nearest hospital.”
I laugh. “I don’t know how to act when I’m in a cabin with you against my will.”
“A little more hostility would be appreciated,” she jests. “Or do you already have Stockholm syndrome?”
“Are you asking if I’m in love with you, Duke?”
“I never said anything about love.” She smirks. “Is this your way of confessing you’ve been harboring feelings since the day we met?”
I snort. “The onlyfeelingI have around you is annoyance.”
She smiles in spite of my words. “Ditto.”
She grabs her phone and clicks a few times, then soft jazz begins to pour through the room. There must be a speaker somewhere with how clear the sound is.
I return to my work, but it’s not long before my attention is drawn back to Ariel again. Her back is to me. She’s cooking something on the stove while swaying to the saxophone playing. Her braid swings back and forth with her hips, and there’s something hypnotic about the movement. I feel a tug toward the kitchen deep within my core. Before I can refocus on work, I stand and cross the room.
