Page 31 of Famous Last Words (New York Thunder #1)

CHAPTER 31

FRAN

“ H ey, Fran.”

I look up from my laptop to see Bri, Tadd’s assistant, standing on the other side of my cubicle.

“Hey, what’s up?” I force a smile. It’s not that I don’t like Bri. She’s a sweetheart. Fresh out of college. Innocent. Bright-eyed. Na?ve. She’s basically me, three years ago. It’s more that I know the only reason she’s standing here in front of me is because she’s been forced to do Tadd’s dirty work.

“Tadd asked if you could check this to make sure you’re happy with the copy.” She hands me a big piece of paper, nervously avoiding eye contact.

I glance down to see it’s the draft for the two-pager we have running in this weekend’s Times for the Columbus Circle penthouse. Why wouldn’t he just send them to me electronically like a normal?—

“Are you kidding me?” I snap my head up, spearing Bri, and she at least has the decency to look sheepish. “Where is he?”

“In his office…” she says reluctantly.

I spin on my heels and storm toward Tadd’s office with Bri hot on my tail. Pushing open the glass doo r without knocking, the metal handle slams against the wall, causing everyone on the sales floor to look over, because real estate agents live for the drama.

Tadd startles, quickly removing his Gucci-loafered feet from his desk and sitting up straight, smirk ghosting his lips. “I’ll call you back,” he mutters into his phone before tossing it onto the desk.

“What’s up?” He lifts his chin at me.

I arch one brow. “You know what’s up.”

He plays dumb, even going so far as to offer poor Bri a questioning look.

“The ad in the Times .” Anger rages through me as I wave the copy in the air. “You didn’t even include my name!”

Tadd licks his lips, and I know that move. He’s trying to stifle his smile. But it’s there. I can see it in his eyes. With another clearing of his throat, he stands, adjusting the knot in his tie.

“Fran,” he begins, cocking his head in an overly patronizing way that makes my blood boil. “For a property of this… caliber ,” he continues, talking to me like I’m an idiot, “it makes more sense to have myself as the face of the listing. Buyers at this level know me; they’re familiar with me. And trust me, you don’t want your details on that ad. You’re going to get calls and emails at two a.m. from the other side of the world. And if you can’t respond at the drop of a hat, you could potentially miss out on a deal.” He shrugs, all smug and condescending like. “This is my business, Fran. You’re not quite?—”

“You are a self-righteous son of an ass.” I scrunch the copy into a ball, throwing it at him. It hits him in his chiseled jaw, rendering him shocked.

Behind me, I hear Bri giggle, which she quickly tries to conceal with a cough.

Tadd stands a little taller, squaring his shoulders.

“The only reason I am even going along with this bullshit farce is because I was practically forced by you and Tony.” I take a step closer, pointing a finger at him. “You put my headshot, my cell, and my email on that copy, or I am done .”

Tadd scoffs, staring down at me like he can’t believe I’m actually standing up to him at work. And frankly, neither can I. This is the first, and man does it feel good.

“Fine,” he finally relents, rolling his eyes as if I’ve bored him. He returns to his desk, picks up his phone, and ultimately dismisses me.

I keep my chin held high as I turn, flashing Bri a conspiratorial wink as I pass her on my way out. And as I continue through the suddenly silent sales floor with what feels like every set of eyes watching me, I can’t help but feel like a badass.

By the time I sit back at my desk, I release the breath I’ve been holding and grab my phone.

Me: I just stood up to Tadd in front of everyone at work!

Robbie: Not gonna lie… this just gave me a semi.

I roll my eyes at his response, laughing under my breath.

Me: I hit him in the face with a ball of paper.

Robbie: Please tell me you filmed that???

Me: Sadly no. But I will remember the look on his dumb face for the rest of my life.

Robbie: I’m proud of you.

Aside from my parents, I’ve never had anyone tell me they’re proud of me before. It takes a few seconds to collect myself. And then, without even realizing, I’m tapping out the one thing I’ve been wondering these last few days. The one thing I’ve been too terrified to ask.

Me: Robbie, what are we doing?

Message sent.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Message Delivered.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Message read.

I already know there’s no way to retract a read text message; trust me, I’ve Googled it before. Instead, I toss my phone onto my desk, and I bury my head in my hands, groaning at my own stupidity. I swear, I’ve never wanted anything more than to go back in time two minutes. Where’s a DeLorean when you need one?

When the device vibrates, I refuse to look at it. But then of course, curiosity gets the better of me.

Robbie: wdym?

I stare at his reply, over analyzing it. He’s either playing dumb, or he’s naturally clueless. And, sure, I could play dumb too, but honestly, what’s the point?

Me: A month ago, you were nothing more than a horrible high school memory. Now we’re doing things high school me would never imagine she’d be doing with Robbie Mason.

Robbie: High school Robbie Mason would be so fucking confused if he knew that 8 years later, Fran Keller was going to end up coming all over his face.

My cheeks flush at the memory, and I feel a familiar ache settle between my legs, and damn him. This is hardly the time or the place, Robbie.

Me: So, the question remains – what’s going on?

Robbie: I don’t know. We’re friends who fuck?

Me: Friends who fuck… while also pretending to be in a relationship. It’s all levels of messed up.

Robbie: What’s so bad about a fake relationship with real orgasms? It’s ingenious.

I can’t help but smile as I stare at his messages. I know he’s right. But the truth is, I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’m worried my feelings might have become entangled in this weird situation-ship over the last few days, and now, if I’m honest, I don’t know if friends who fuck is enough for me.

I tub on my bottom lip, considering myself. I know I should let it go. He’s made his intentions abundantly clear. But that doesn’t stop the painful tug I feel in my chest.

Me: No. You’re right. A fake relationship with real orgasms. All pleasure, no pain.

He doesn’t reply for a while, and I stare blankly at nothing in front of me until a response comes through.

Robbie: So… we good?

No. I’ve broken the cardinal rule and developed stupid ass feelings for you.

Me: Yeah. We’re good.

I roll my eyes. Idiot.

Less than five minutes later, my phone starts ringing, and I bristle, thinking it’s Robbie. Like hell I want to rehash any part of that text conversation. But when I glance at the screen and notice it’s Andy calling, I relax some, answering the phone.

“Hey, Andy.”

“YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKER!”

I pull the phone away from my ear, gaping at the screen before trying again. “Um… hello?”

“Oh, hey, Fran. Sorry. Goddamn bus just cut me off.” He scoffs. “YEAH, YOU! YOU FUCKIN’ JACKASS!”

Honestly, I don’t know what to say, so I just wait.

“I’ve booked your flight to Boston.”

I assume he’s talking to me again. “Oh, okay. Thanks.”

“You fly out at three. I’ll send a car to pick you up and take you to the airport.”

“Thanks, Andy. Do I need to?—”

“Make sure you’re awake this time.”

I blink. “Are… you talking to me, or is that more road rage?”

Andy barks a laugh. “Make sure you don’t fall asleep like the night in Robbie’s hotel room when I was about to send a car for you.”

I blink again. What the hell is he talking about? I think back to that night— almost kiss-gate —and I freeze. My eyes go wide. Robbie got a text message from Andy. He said Andy told him the crowd was still outside and that I would need to spend the night. My jaw drops.

That dirty little liar.

“I’ll have my assistant send through the details.” Andy’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “Fran, I gotta go. It seems it’s the day for SHITTY FUCKIN’ DRIVERS!”

The call goes silent after Andy’s outburst, but I continue sitting like a statue, staring straight, phone still pressed against my ear.

Robbie lied. And it’s not like it was an accidental lie where he might’ve just got his wires crossed. He blatantly lied. What the hell is going on?