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“I left my number.”
“You did?”
I think back to the night I came back. I never found a number, and I looked over the apartment several times for any trace of her.
“I left it on your pillow.” She’s looking at me like I’m an idiot.
“I never saw a number.” I furrow my brow thinking about how it could have just disappeared, but then I think of something. The maids came that day, just like they do every Saturday. They must have accidentally thrown it out or put it in with the laundry.
“Right,” says Erica, unconvinced.
“I swear. The maid must have tossed it. Trust me, I would have called. And I should have looked you up. I just got so wrapped up with this acquisition. Your old boss gave me one hell of a fight. Work just got so ramped up…”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair frustratedly. I know it probably sounds like I’m just running off excuses. I just wish she could see that that night meant something to me.
“Let’s just forget it,” she says.
“Is that what you want?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter now,” she says with a shrug. “The past is in the past. It’s best we leave it there.”
Chapter 15
Erica
I take another slice of pizza from the box, hoping Marco gets the hint that I no longer want to talk about the past. I want it to be left where it was, a year ago. Though sitting here across from him, alone for the first time since I realized he was my new boss, it’s hard not to remember our night together. I see it in the way he looks at me, his brown eyes careful, yet persistent. It’s hard not to get lost in them like a fancy cup of cappuccino.
Not to mention his smile, which feels like it’s whittling me down slowly. There are so many versions of it too. The one he gives me when he thinks I’m not looking. The one he gives me when he’s excited about something. The one he gives me when he’s trying to force it. My eyes are drawn to it every single time as I guess what each one means. I’m finding myself more and more intrigued as I struggle to push him further and further away.
It’s a dangerous line I’m treading. The one between past and present. Truth and lies. But I’m doing it all for Josie. As I look at Marco now, all I can see is her in his face and it feels like I might sink to the bottom floor of this fabulous building by the sheer weight of the secret I’m keeping. She looks so much like him. I remind myself that I’m doing it to protect her. I can’t risk this man disappointing her in the way he disappointed me. She’s safer with just me.
I finish my slice of pizza and begin to stack the paper plates, bunching up the napkins, and clearing off the desk. Marco stands to help me, reaching for the pizza box at the same time. Our fingers brush against each other for a second and it’s like all my nerves are at my fingertips, sending warning signals through me. I quickly pull away and let him take the box, careful not to look at him for any sign he felt the same shock as me.
“I should get going,” I say softly.
“Yeah. Me too,” he says.
I quickly leave the room, dumping the trash in the breakroom before grabbing my purse from my office. I still can’t believe I get to say that. I look around the room fondly for a moment. It’s all coming together, from the desk to the plush armchair to the modern gold lamp that sits in the corner. I still can’t believe I got to pick everything out and make it my own. It feels like a true promotion, and I’m thankful to Marco for that, even though part of me wonders if I truly deserve it.
I wonder if this is his way of apologizing for what happened. After he explained everything tonight, I couldn’t help but believe him. Even though everything he said sounded like an excuse, from the family emergency to the maid losing my number to being so busy at work. Anyone in their right mind would roll their eyes in disbelief, but there was something so sincere in the way he spoke.
Even when he told me why he lied about who he was. This whole time I had thought it was to get information from me by omitting he was the very Shark that everyone feared. Ever since I saw his face on the news at the doctor’s office, I felt my guilt gnawing away at me, scared that I had just given him everything he wanted by falling into his trap. I’m beginning to see that maybe it wasn’t like that at all.
I can understand why it’s easier to hide who you are. I’ve done it in the past to avoid special treatment or to avoid someone pretending to love me for the wrong reasons, because they have something to gain from me, or more so, my father. Relationships had always been tricky for me because I didn’t know who I could trust. My very first boyfriend in college practically fanboyed over my father the first time he met him, doing everything he could to impress him. I wondered if he was dating me or him at one point. So yeah, I know why it’s easier to leave last names out.
“Well, I’ll see you next week,” I say, clutching my purse as I pass Marco’s office. He’s still at his desk and looks pensive. I wonder what he’s thinking about, but remind myself it’s not my business.
“Do you need me to walk you out?” he asks. “It’s late.”
“It’s only eight.” I laugh.
“Oh, right. Well, I will anyway. I need to get home too. I’m wiped.”
“It’s been a long week,” I say, as we fall in step together.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yes, you could have. This isn’t your first rodeo.”