Page 43 of Making It While Faking It
The Superstorm
TREASURE GROVE
The wind is blowing like crazy, and it’s raining so hard that it actually sounds like cats and dogs are slamming onto the roof of the car. So many emotions and thoughts snake around each other inside me. The last thing that worries me is being alone in the car with Achilles, which seems so surreal.
“Are you all right?” Achilles finally asks.
I turn to look at him. His eyebrows are pinched with concern.
“I can’t stay in your place,” I cry. Just saying that releases some of my anxiety. “I can’t sleep that close to a superstorm.”
He’s watching me in his customarily unsettling way, but I don’t care. If anything, his expression is pushing me closer to asking him to just drop me off at my apartment.
“I see,” he finally says, stroking his chin. “We’re actually staying on the tenth floor tonight.”
He says that he’s had the furniture from the rooftop brought indoors. Also, protective shutters have been installed over all windows, so I don’t have to worry about glass breakages. Plus, if and when the power goes out, the building has a backup generator that transitions smoothly from regular electricity.
“You’ll be safe and secure with…” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Tonight. I should’ve said something to you earlier to put your mind at ease.”
He blinks at me, waiting for me to say something. But this rush of emotion that I’m feeling that is so alien to me keeps me from speaking. Achilles is different than any man I’ve ever been linked to. He practically nursed me back to health for over twenty-four hours. I was in such a terrible state. He even summoned a doctor to check me out. Simon would’ve never done that. He would’ve disappeared and left me to fend for myself.
And now this…
My throat is tight, and now I finally understand why I’m unable to respond. I don’t trust him being nice to me. But why not? He’s shown me that he’s nothing but trustworthy, at least on the surface. The contract, the business between our families, the dubious double-dealings—those are the things that make it impossible for us to have faith in each other.
Then my cell phone rings, and it’s Lolly. The staff has been sent home. The restaurant is closed. She and her husband are boarding up the windows, but they can’t stay any longer.
“It’s terrible outside, Treasure. Nearly all the businesses on our street have boarded up their windows. Shit is flying everywhere. A trash can slammed into the east corner window.”
My jaw drops as I inhale sharply. “Is there any damage?”
She sighs in relief. “By the grace of God, no. But there’s all kind of crap flying down the street. We have to get boarded up, but Rob and I have to get out. We can’t be stranded in the city.”
Nodding energetically, I say, “Go, go home now. I’ll finish the windows.”
“I’m so sorry, Treasure.”
“No, it’s okay.”
I turn to Achilles.
“I have to go to the restaurant.”
Without asking extra questions, a look of concern washing over him, he tells Danny, his driver, to take me to my restaurant.
Achilles and Dannyinsist I stay out of the way as they work fast to board up all the windows. I want to help because six hands are better than four, but they handle the tools and the wood with such ease that I feel I’ll be more of an obstacle than help.
I watch them through the tinted glass. I’m not sure if Achilles can see me staring at him, but God Almighty, what a man. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up. Soaked in rain, his black pants cling to his strong thighs. He’s got a nice package too. I picture myself doing things to him—sexy things.
I squeeze my eyes shut and whip my head from left to right, freeing myself from such salacious thoughts. Our gazes meet when I open my eyes until Danny plasters the final board against the window.
The jarring way in which our staring was interrupted makes my heart thump like thunder. What is happening between us? I consider a sexual relationship with Achilles—nothing but sex. Could it work between us?
“Treasure,” Achilles says, standing near the hostess station. I didn’t even hear him come in. “You should get in the car while I lock up.”
I start to say that I’ll lock up, but he’s been in charge ever since we arrived. So instead of saying I can handle it, I nod, retrieve my purse off the hostess station, and hand him the keys.
When he takes them, our fingers touch, and that giddy sensation I felt when we first accidentally touched is back with a vengeance. But he has no clue what’s going on inside me. I make sure my face displays nothing but a thankful smile as I say, “Thank you for doing all of this. I’m dry. You’re wet.” I chuckle at my observations. “I really appreciate it.”
