The Allure of Dean Harper (The Allure #2)(17)
I tossed my phone back onto my desk and clenched my teeth together. Every single problem in my life was being caused by one woman: Lily Black. She was forcing Julian into an ultimatum and I was on the losing end of the deal.
I leaned back in my chair, interlocked my fingers behind my head, and caught sight of Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War” on my office shelf. The book highlighted troop movements and battlefield strategies, but more importantly, it stressed one simple idea: “Know thyself, know thy enemy.”
I smirked.
As much as I hated to admit it, Lily knew a hell of a lot about food and drinks. She’d impressed me at Gramercy Tavern, and she had twice the education of most applicants sending in their resumes for the consulting position. On top of that, I needed to keep Julian as an investor for the project.
I shredded the rest of the applications and pulled “The Art of War” off my shelf. It was settled. I was going to have to convince Lily to work for me. It was time to get to know the enemy.
Chapter Thirteen
Lily
“No! NO! You do not get to live here!” I yelled, running after the cockroach attempting to take up residence in our apartment. I lunged to drop a cup over it, but it scurried under our shared dresser. “No! Get out of there!”
There was an inch of blackness beneath the dresser and the floor and I would have rather cut my hand off than put it under there. He’d won the battle, but I’d win the war.
“Yeah, and stay there!” I yelled, kicking the dresser with my foot. That’s good. Intimidate him.
I turned back to the sink full of dishes I’d been cleaning before my little friend had interrupted me. Plates and cups were piled high thanks to the mess Josephine and I had created the night before. Julian had requested a home-cooked meal, but Josephine and I hadn’t been able to agree on what to make, so we’d each made our favorite dishes (chicken spaghetti for her, and homestyle mac ‘n’ cheese for me). We’d hovered over him as he ate, watching him carefully as he spooned the bites into his mouth.
“Uh they're both good?” he said, shifting his gaze back and forth between us.
I slammed my hand down on the counter like a disgruntled detective. “Don’t you lie to me, Lefray!”
He laughed. “I swear, they’re both equally delicious.”
I shook my head. “This isn’t over. I’m watching you.”
Josephine leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I know you’ll tell me the real winner later.”
“Oh my god.” I covered my eyes and backed away slowly. “You guys are like two slobbering wildebeests in heat.”
After two more episodes of The Office (first season, of course), they left. It’s not like the three of us could all share the one futon, but it still made me sad to lock the door behind them. I hurried to the window and watched them hail a cab. It pulled up to the curb and Julian opened the door for Jo, sweeping a kiss across her lips before they slid into the back together. They weren’t slobbering wildebeests. They were the cutest people in the entire world and they made me almost sick with envy every time I saw them doting over one another. When was the last time I’d had a relationship like that? I think I had shown that much affection to a Snicker’s ice cream bar once, but it had been a tragically one-sided affair. I’d never loved a man like she loved Julian.
I scrubbed away remnants of cheese from a plate and then caught movement to my right.
“No! You’re not allowed out!” I yelled at the cockroach. “God, at least wait until I leave.”
A loud knock sounded at the apartment door and I jumped, dropping the plate into the sink full of suds. Did Josephine forget her keys?
“Lily! Open up!”
Oh shit. The police?
“Lily!”
It wasn’t until my name was yelled a second time that I registered the familiar deep voice.
Dean motherf*cking Harper was at my apartment. I’d have preferred the cops.
I swallowed and wiped my pruney hands on the dishrag beside the sink. Okay. He was at my apartment, which meant he probably wanted to talk to me. Or maybe he just needed to get a clipping of my hair for the voodoo doll he was undoubtedly creating so he could continue torturing me from afar.
I walked to the door as he kept hammering away on the thin particleboard.
“What do you want?” I asked, peering through the tiny peephole. He was leaning against the door with his head down. His dirty blond hair was disheveled and curling at the ends. He’d foregone his normal uniform for a t-shirt and running shorts. He looked sweaty, even through the peephole. Oh god. He’d run to my apartment.
“Just let me in. We need to talk.”
He already sounded pissed and we hadn’t even seen each other yet.
“Sorry, no hablo ingles.”
“Lily.”
“I don’t want any Girl Scout cookies. Go away.”
“Oh hello there!” a feminine voice chimed from down the hall. I stood on my tiptoes again and peered through the peephole. Oh dear lord, it was Ms. Whittaker, our landlady. Josephine had warned me about her immediately upon my arrival in New York City. She seemed old and endearing, but then she’d invited Jo to a party. She’d gone, assuming it would be a bunch of old people playing Monopoly. Instead, she’d found herself politely navigating her way through a swinger’s party. Ms. Whittaker was one kinky old lady.