Page 35

I don't know what to say, figuring I've said it all already when I thanked him half a dozen times for the great night, so I say nothing, getting out when the driver opens the door for me. I make the trek inside barefoot, carrying my shoes, and dig my ID out of my purse to scan myself inside.

I can feel eyes on me as I stroll through the lobby, feel them on me while I wait for the elevator, feel them on me during the trip upstairs, acutely aware that I'm doing the most obvious walk of shame of all time.

But I'm not ashamed, not in the least.

I stroll down the hallway when I reach the thirteenth floor, straight to my room in the corner. Loud rap music pours from it, rattling the walls. My hand grasps the knob and turns as soon as I get there, grateful Melody never locks the damn door because I don't think I have my key. As soon as I start to open it, I hear her voice.

"Oh God, oh yes!" she cries. "Just like that!"

The thump-thump-thumping of her bed hitting the wall sounds like a jackhammer. I stall instantly, not wanting to see what's going on in there. My hand is off the knob again, the door clicking closed, neither of them even hearing it from the way she cries out.

"Oh, Paul, baby, you feel so good!"

Cringing, I walk away, shaking my head. Awkward. On my way back to the elevator, I pull out my phone, letting out a resigned sigh as I dial the number. I press the down arrow just as he answers.

Naz foregoes any sort of greeting, merely saying, "I'm waiting downstairs."

He is. The car is still parked there, exactly where it was when I got out, the driver waiting by the curb. He opens the door for me, and I slide in, seeing Naz still focused on his phone, looking just as casual.

His eyes cut to me when the door closes. "Huh."

"Huh," I echo. "What does 'huh' mean?"

It's his second favorite thing to say, besides 'nonsense'.

"It means it didn't take you as long as I thought it would to change your mind. I expected you to at least change before you started regretting it."

"And what, you were just going to sit down here?" I ask. "How long would you have waited?"

"As long as it took."

"And if I didn't change my mind?"

"You would've," he says, matter-of-fact. "You like me."

"I like you?"

"Yes."

I laugh but don't dispute it because yes, I like him. I like him a lot, so much that I'm terrified to admit to what degree I like this man. And from the way his eyes flit to me, and the smirk that touches his lips, I suspect he might know my dilemma, might know just how bad I have it.

"It's okay, though," he says, "because I like you, too."

His house is ice cold when we get there. I can see my breath whenever I exhale, a cloud of fog in the air around me. I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself, but the chill doesn't seem to bother Naz. He sets his coat and vest down on the living room couch as he watches me.

"You know where the bathroom is," he says. "Go ahead and take a hot shower. I'll warm the place up while you do that."

I hesitate. "Am I supposed to put the dress back on?"

"No, I'll leave something on my bed for you to wear."

I make my way upstairs on my own. It's dark up here, despite the sun shining brightly outside, like the top half of his house is always in shadows. I head straight to the bathroom and lock myself inside, turning on the hot water to try to warm the air.

I reach behind me, struggling to unzip the dress on my own, and step out of it, unsure what to do with the thing so I just leave it in the corner. I step under the water, flinching at the heat, but I don't dare turn the temperature down. The room is way too cold.

I stand under the spray until my skin turns pink and wrinkled, soaking up as much of the warmth as I can, relishing the sensation of the water beating against me. The pressure feels like hands kneading my taut muscles, soothing the soreness away. Faint bruises blemish my skin in places, remnants of his strong grip, reminders of the way he owned my body, like it belonged only to him.

I swipe some soap and even some of his shampoo, stepping out smelling like Irish Spring and men's Frizz-Ease. Goose bumps spring up along my flesh as soon as the air hits me. I dry off, wrapping a thick white towel around me as I scamper from the bathroom.

Just like Naz said, clothes are laying on the bed, a pair of black sweatpants and a plain white undershirt. I drop the towel and pull them on, scowling at my lack of underwear and bra. It takes me rolling down the pants a few times at the waist for them to stay up, still dragging at my feet.

I stroll back downstairs, arms crossed over my chest as I seek out Naz, wondering where he went. I head for the den when I find him nowhere else, and hear his voice as I approach the doorway.

"Yeah, you're right, it's more complicated than I expected."

I stall a few feet from the door, realizing he's on the phone and not wanting to interrupt. I know I should walk back away, to give him some privacy, but I just stand in place.

Call it curiosity.

"I haven't changed my mind," he says, "and I'm not going to. You know better than to think I'll walk away in the middle of anything, especially something like this. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, Ray. Just as long as you."

I shiver. I'm not sure if it's the cold or the name that causes it.

"Santino's been stalling," he says. "I'll pay him another visit this week and light a fire under his ass to get the file."

A file? That's what he wants?

"No, I don't want to do that if I don't have to. I told you, it's changed… it's complicated. Santino will come through. He's just afraid of sticking his neck out, you know, and getting his head chopped off. He thought he wouldn't have to see me again after he paid you, but he should know not all debts can be forgiven with just cash."

He pauses for a moment, the silence deafening. My heart is pounding so hard I'm afraid he can hear it, that he'll know I'm standing here. But after a moment, he lets out a laugh. "Ah, come on, Ray, you know me. You know I like playing with fire. It's one of my specialties."

More words are exchanged, but I don't hear them. I back away from the door, jetting back upstairs whenever it's safe and I don't think he'll hear my footsteps. I walk back to the bathroom and grab my dress, taking it to his room, where the towel still lays on the floor. I pick it up, too, and glance around, looking for a hamper, but there isn't one in here.

Turning around, I'm about to head out in search of one when I nearly run straight into the body blocking the doorway. It startles me so much I scream, a high-pitch shriek, as my knees nearly give out. Naz is standing there, eyeing me warily, as I clutch the dress tightly to my chest.