Page 39 of In Case You Didn't Know

Her nipples are hard beneath the silk of her dress. I notice without meaning to. My mouth goes dry.

Get out of here, Fitzgerald.

But I don’t. I lean in, close enough that my breath stirs the hair near her temple. Her skin smells like citrus and heat as I ask her a third time. “Who is he, Francie?”

She shudders, just barely.

“It’s none of your business,” she snaps.

This time I grin, but it’s not a nice one. It’s the one I wear when I’m broken and bleeding. The one I’ve been wearing way too much lately. “It’s a good thing I own a security company,” I murmur. “I can find out in ten minutes.”

She jerks her chin back. “You’d snoop on me?”

I shrug. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

She knows that’s a lie. Even if I’m telling myself it’s true.

“No. You want to control me.” She steps in closer now, her breath hot against my skin. “If you ever,eversnoop on me, I’ll never speak to you again. Do you understand? It’s a violation. I’m a grown woman. If I need help, I’ll ask. But I don’t. Got it?”

My gaze drops to her mouth. My restraint frays.

I nod, slowly. “Got it.” And truth be told, I wouldn’t anyway. I’m just pissed and tired and wishing I’d made better decisions in life.

But I don’t move. Because she’s still the only thing I want. The one thing I can’t have.

And I’m not sure how much longer I can keep pretending that’s okay.

FRANCIE

I stand on the sidewalk, staring at my apartment building in disbelief, as the cab pulls away, leaving me stranded. Surely this isn’t happening. Not after tonight’s painful dinner – which was already the cherry on top of a very bitter sundae.

Sitting across from Asher, pretending not to notice the way his fingers wrapped around his glass, or the way he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks was awkward as hell.

Pretending I didn’t want to throw my cocktail in his face, or climb into his lap – maybe both – was even harder.

And now all I want to do is take a shower, get into my pajamas, spend a bit of quality time with my battery operated boyfriend, then go to sleep so I can wake up early and get to workon the manuscript-from-hell that needs to be with my editor in less than four weeks.

But instead, the whole block is blacked out. There are workmen in bright yellow jackets setting up floodlights and cordoning off sections of the sidewalk in front of Niall’s coffee shop.

“What’s going on?” I ask one of them.

“Sewer problems,” he tells me. “And electricity problems. The two don’t mix.”

“But I live here,” I say, pointing at the door that leads to the apartments. “That’s my apartment. I need to go to bed.” And maybe scream into a pillow. Or rehash every stupid thing I said during dinner.

And try not to replay the sound of Asher’s voice in my ear, low and possessive, like he still had every right to touch me.

“You can go in,” he says. “We’re setting up a temporary generator so you should have power back on by the morning. For a little while at least.”

“The morning?”

He nods. “I’m afraid we may be noisy,” he says, right as a pneumatic drill starts up, shattering the air and making me wince. “Nothing some ear plugs won’t solve.”

“How long will this take?” I say loudly, hoping it will be done in a couple of hours. I may just have to sleep in and work later tomorrow. That’ll be okay, I’ll manage.

“About a month, we think.”

“Amonth?” My mouth drops open.