“Well…let’s see. Our plane lands in two hours. We should finish the day at the office. How does that sound?”
“It sounds like you’ll be upgraded from the stapler to a keyboard.”
“I think it’s a fantastic idea for us to return to the office today,” Knox replied without skipping a beat. “I’m sure there is an HR module regarding workplace violence you need to catch up on.”
“And you’re gonna be the star of the show.”
“Victoria Lereaux,” he muttered under his breath.
“I’m not going to the office. I need to see my mother. Which facility did you say she was transferred to again?”
“Only the best facility in Staten Island,” he boasted before taking what I assumed was another work call.
Annoyed, I twisted my engagement ring around my finger as I stared out of the jet window. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew Knox had a business to run, but was it selfish for me to want the man to myself for a few more weeks? I wasn’t even sure I wanted my position back, but the thought of Knox finding another assistant was bothersome.
At work, we ran like a well-oiled toxic machine, and we fit together like that stubborn puzzle piece you had to bang into the puzzle with your fist to make it fit. It wasn’t easy to imagine someone filling into my role and establishing the same rhythm we had. No onboarding packet or training manual could teach that because Knox and I ran on chemistry, trust, and respect that couldn’t be replicated.
Knox didn’t need someone efficient. He needed someone who could survive him.
And I had.
24
New York State of Mind
Knox
“I still can’t believe you live on Staten Island,” Victoria mused from beside me as the driver maneuvered the SUV off the bridge connecting the island to the New York boroughs.
“Why pay $30 million for a house in the city when I can commute a little further and get a better estate with acreage and privacy for a third of that?”
“Hey, you won’t find me arguing. I’m just saying, you give off bachelor loft overlooking the New York skyline.”
“And you give off—”
I paused to gauge her reaction.
Narrowed eyes, popped neck, screwed lips. She hit “The Trifecta” and isn’t in the mood for my shenanigans. A wise man would tread carefully, but I’ve never been accused of being wise. I can’t fuck for another week, so I might as well get my rocks off another way.
“—you live above Chinese restaurants so you can have easy access.”
“It was a pizzeria, you dodo bird.”
“That was my second guess,” I replied with an easy grin.
“My college apartment was above Vince’s Pizzeria. That Freshman Fifteen came out of nowhere,” she explained. “It eventually turned into the Freshman Forty.”
“It looked good on you,” I complimented. “It certainly caught my attention.”
My wife squinted at me suspiciously. “You’re not one of those feeders, are you?”
“Feeders? What the hell is that?”
“You know those men who have fat fetishes and get with big women and feed them to their heart’s content.”
“First of all, you were never fat—you were thick, there’s a difference. Secondly, I do enjoy feeding you, but not inthatway. My mother often showed affection through her food—it’s an Italian thing.”
“That reminds me. I need to text your mother and remind her of her obligatory pasta drop,” she mumbled as she rifled through her purse for her cell phone. “What should I request?”