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As silence descends once again, I push a piece of toast to another spot on my plate.
“Well,” Cage says, “Igor will be happy to hear all of that.”
But how about you?I want to ask. What do you want besides this business deal with Igor and a life screwing one woman after the other?
I look up at Cage to see if I can read an answer in his expression, but he’s already turned his back on me, moving toward the kitchen’s island, clearing a pan and spatula from the counter and taking them to the sink.
“Someday,” he says without emotion, “you’re going to find that man, Karini, and he’s going to be a lucky bastard.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me with that as well as everything he didn’tsay.
That man sure as hell won’t be Cage Bryant.
I shouldn’t be surprised, and I force myself to go back to eating. There’s no use paying attention to the way my heart is cracking, because there wasn’t ever supposed to be anything between Cage and me anyway.
I just wish it didn’t feel as if there is something growing and taking root, at least with me.
I’m drinking my tea and staring out the window at the view of Central Park when I hear my phone ding with a text.
Is it Cage? Is there something else he wanted to say to me that he couldn’t say before?
My pulse bounces, and I put down my cup. Then I realize that maybe he’s only texting me those links so I can start studying for the Vasiliev dinner. Whatever the case, I have to see now.
When I access the text, my stomach roils.
When the fuck is the next payment coming?
I drop the phone and fold my arms over my stomach, feeling my world turn upside down, spinning in a sickening, inevitable direction.