Page 119 of Van Cort
“Are you driving, or is Andre here?”
“Andre. Lobby.” I follow her as she keeps walking, trying to keep my gaze off her ass through the corridor.
“Are you looking at my ass?”
“Absolutely.” She laughs and comes to a halt by the elevator.
“Not very professional, Mr Van Cort.”
“No. Not at all. You’re fired.”
“I’m what? Are you serious?”
“Maybe. I’ll make that decision later. Or you can.”
***
The drive home is smooth enough, and we both spend our time in silence. It isn’t anger, or frustration, or anything other than sexual tension on my part. I’m not so sure about hers. She seems to have things to say, and whilst I understand that, and the constant confusion she’s probably been in regarding this relationship, I can’t answer any of the above until I openly show her what’s been going on. It is, unfortunately, a make-or-break conundrum and other than giving her some more of my soul and hoping, I’m out of options. We’re there now. We’re on that cliff. There isn’t anything left but the truth.
She walks into the apartment with the same amount of forthright determination she walked out of her office with. Her bag gets put down on the kitchen island, and she barely acknowledges the space around her before turning to look at me.
“Are we going to have sex now?” The question, whilst appealing, surprises me. “Because you’ve got that broody look about you, and you’ve been quietly flirtatious in that way that suggests that’s what you’re thinking about. I’m not saying no, I’m just trying to make sure I’ve got it right because honestly, I’m confused. I don’t want to be anymore, so I’m asking directly.”
“What are you confused about?”
“Everything. You. I think I’ve got a handle on you, and then it’s completely changed by something. And I was going through the data today for you, and it suddenly occurred to me that the numbers are safe. They’re solid and easy to read. Numbers don’t change. Math is simple. You’re not. And I’m not saying I want simple because that might be futile and boring, but I do wantclarity, Everett. Real, honest clarity that tells me why you are the way you are.”
“Where is this coming from? I apologised for-”
“No, we’re past that. The sunset softened me, and you were wonderful, but this is just what it is now. I feel like I’m missing something with you, like I don’t know which side of you I’m going to get, and I don’t like it. Which gives me pause to think over my options.”
I stare. Options?
She folds her arms. “What? Didn’t like that last bit? I do have options, Everett. I can make choices.”
My tongue might run over my teeth in frustration, but I still nod and walk past her for the intercom to the desk downstairs. “Pizza or steak?”
She looks around the kitchen, frowning. “That isn’t any kind of answer. It’s a question.”
“We’ll get to the answer. And your options, but food first, or whilst.”
“No staff?”
“No.”
“Do you use any of your wealth for anything other than Andre?” I think, and other than tailored clothes, constant employment costs, and occasional things I need, no.
“Not really.”
“Charities?”
“No.”
“Hobbies?” What the hell is she going on about?
“No.”
“Sport?”
