Page 18 of Dead Set on You
More knocking. Harder. Impatient.
I jerk my head at the door. “Aren’t you going to answer?”
Rafael appears to think about it. Rolling his shoulders, he takes reluctant steps down the hallway, eyes on me the entire time. With nowhere for me to go, I press myself close to the wall and glare at him as he approaches, like a snail moving uphill.
“You’re infuriating,” I hiss at him when he slows beside me.
“Ditto.” He wrenches the door open.
A woman—her brunette hair pulled into a messy bun and a Harry Styles tee tucked into ripped jean shorts—stands on the other side, fist hovering midair. She drops it at her side, her scowl matching my own.
“Oh, this should be good,” I mutter, smiling for the first time all morning. She doesn’t so much as look at me. Neither does Rafael.
“I never thought I’d have to come backhere, but I forgot my phone last night,” she huffs, her furious energy like that of a malfunctioning pressure cooker. “It happens when you’re kicked out.”
My mouth almost drops.
Rafael sighs. “It wasn’t like that, Victoria.”
“Victoria?” Her voice turns shrill. “My name’sViolet, you douchecanoe.” She shoves past him, bumps his shoulder, and stomps into the apartment.
“Wait—” I stare after her. “She was here? Last night? With me asleep on the sofa?” Nausea pushes into my throat. A brand-new set of horrifying what-ifs flood my brain, shoving everything else out. Did he have a woman over while I drooled on his sofa? Did they …hook up? Is he that insatiable?
Ignoring me like it’s become his personal Olympic sport, Rafael follows Violet with the enthusiasm of an inmate on death row. I trail after him, desperately needing answers about last night because the plot holes are more confusing than assembling IKEA furniturewithinstructions.
“Explain,” I command.
“Please, go away,” Rafael mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. Violet halts her mission of pulling out sofa cushions to turn toward Rafael with a withering glare. Finally, a woman who gets it.
“Goaway?” Violet almost shrieks. She chucks the cushion in his direction.
“Not you.” Rafael holds up his hands as if to soothe her. Violet’s face pinches with a mixture of distaste and confusion. I think I hear her call himasshat—and make a mental note of her insults—before she reluctantly resumes her search.
“Your manners are atrocious,” I tell him as she lobs another cushion to the ground, cursing men and dating apps as she goes. But I get it.Hell hath no furyand whatnot. Rafael has incited similar feelings innumerable times (present moment included).
“How do you explain this?” I gesture in her general direction. “Or is she a hallucination too?”
Rafael pivots his body away from me.
I follow, circling into his line of sight. “Really? Are you five?”
Rafael’s jaw clenches so hard the muscle in his cheek jerks, but he continues to say nothing, watching as Violet upends his living room.
“Whatever happened last night—and spare me the details—something tells me it didn’t go according to plan.” I jab a thumb toward Violet, who’s moved to the coffee table, tossing magazines and books aside with fury and purpose. “Not what I would call a satisfied customer.” A book hits the ground with a pronounced thunk.
Rafael doesn’t react.
“While I’d love nothing more than to leave you at the mercy of a woman who might loathe you more than I do, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what happened after I fainted,” I say, positioning myself solidly in front of Rafael.
I make myself tall. He steps to the side. I follow. Another book slams onto the wood floor. Nothing from Rafael except a throbbing vein along the column of his throat.
“Silent treatment? Really? You think that’s going to help you?” I cross my arms. “You screwed up big-time—and I’m not talking about your late-night guest.” Another thunk. “I probably have a hundred emails waiting for me, so I’ll keep this brief. If you thought bringing me here was some kind of twisted favor, you were wrong on so many levels, and now it’s my leverage.” I let that sink in. “Unless you had plans to break several HR rules on your way out.”
His jaw clenches.
Fine. We can play.
“That’s on top of breaking one of Dana’s rules,” I add. “Which means you’ve basically rolled out the red carpet for Media Lab’s newest director: me.” Still nothing. “Dana won’t be so lenient when she finds out.Ifshe finds out …” I trail off, hoping the emphasis on theifwill make him see things my way. “It’s a win-win. I keep last night and this morning between us,and you keep your job. All you have to do isnotget in the way of my promotion. You know—like you should have done two years ago.”
