Spin (Songs of Corruption #1)(29)

“This is a hot mess.”

“I know.”

“The only way for me to avoid drama is to walk out right now,” I said. “But you have me curious. And you know I think you’re the best man for the mayor’s mansion.”

“So will you?”

“I had sex with him twice. But it’s over.”

He looked down to hide his expression, but I saw his fingers tighten. My first reaction was to tell him tough crap. He threw me away. It was my right to sleep with anyone I wanted. My second reaction was subtler.

“Do you have time for a personal question?” I asked.

He looked at me. I’d hurt him. I loved him, and I’d hurt him. I knew how he felt when he did it to me.

“I need it answered completely and honestly,” I said. “I have no energy for beating around the bush or confidence boosts right now.”

“Okay.”

“Is something about me just not enough? I mean, is there something inherently unsatisfying?”

He took a long time answering. “I always wondered if you really enjoyed it.”

I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. “I did. A lot.”

He rushed to open the door for me. “I’m avoiding asking for another chance.”

“Well done, Mister Mayor.”

***

I got back to WDE in time for the protocol review, which was marginally productive. When I got back to my office, another vase of red roses stood on Pam’s desk.

I don’t give up so easy

Yeah. He’d chase me, catch me, and continue with Marina or whoever else made him feel good. An inaccessible little heiress would quickly become boring.

After seven years, Daniel didn’t know if I’d enjoyed sex. What was wrong with me? Was I empty inside? I’d thought I’d imagined every horrifying answer he could have given me, but I hadn’t even scratched the surface.

At least I knew what the problem was. Maybe if I went back to Daniel with the assurance that I did like sex, he wouldn’t look elsewhere. Maybe. But the thought of going back to him just depressed me.

seventeen.

woke to the smell of bacon. I’d somehow crawled into bed during the middle of the night. Katrina had been known to put breakfast together when she felt chipper, and I was very grateful for her mood and her hospitality, especially on a work day. I showered and put up my hair, masking the circles under my eyes with some very expensive stage makeup. I was mid-stairwell when I heard a man’s voice coming from the open kitchen. Katrina said something I couldn’t hear above the crackle of pork belly. Then the man laughed.

“Antonio?” I bent around the iron bannister.

“He said I have to call him Spin,” Katrina called.

“Buongiorno! I brought you breakfast.”

I stepped into the kitchen. “I smelled the bacon.”

“It’s pancetta,” Katrina said, picking a few squares out of the pan and putting them on toast. “He’s corrected me, like, seven times already. He’s cute but annoying.”

“Mostly annoying,” he said, shifting scrambled eggs across the pan.

“Annoy me any time.” She folded up her sandwich and slipped it into a bag.

“This is a little presumptuous considering the way we left it last time,” I said.

“Gotta go!” Katrina gave Antonio the one-kiss-per-cheek exit and bounced out with a wink to me.

I crossed my arms, but I was hungry. The pancetta smelled delicious.

Antonio pointed the fork at me. “This suit? It’s nice for a funeral.”

I sucked in my cheeks. I’d chosen a black below-the-knee wool skirt and matching jacket, and he was trying to throw me off in my own house. He looked perfect in a light blue sweater and collar shirt.

“Insulting me?” I stood next to him and bumped him with my hip. “This is how you seduce me?” I snapped a wooden spoon from the canister and poked at the eggs.

“If I wanted to seduce you, the suit would be on the floor already.”

“You don’t want to seduce me?”

He took a piece of egg on a fork and blew on it. “I do, but as you know, we left on poor terms last time.” He held the fork to my lips, holding his palm under it to catch if it dripped.

“And tell me, Mister Spinelli, how do you intend to improve the terms?” I let him feed me.

“By explaining.” He divided the eggs onto two plates.

“What? I can’t hear you over this explosion of delicious.”

He looked genuinely pleased that I liked his cooking, and he counted the ingredients on his fingers. “Salt, milk, parmesano, rosemary, and pancetta, of course. You have all my secrets now.” He put the plates on the center island and pulled a stool out for me. He’d already set out coffee, juice, and toast.

“You’ve buttered me up quite thoroughly.”

He sat and poured me coffee. “A compliment for a job well done?”

“Yes.”

“I appreciate that. But I want to give you the explanation part now, if the taste of the eggs won’t interfere with your hearing?”

“Okay, go ahead.”

He cleared his throat and sipped his juice. “Marina and I were a regular thing until a few weeks ago. She claimed I was distracted, and she was right. So we ended it. Or I thought we did. The other night, I found out that I’d ended it and she’d paused it.” He took a couple of bites of his breakfast then continued. “She comes from the same place I do. A little town outside Napoli. This was a connection between us. She’s a nice girl. I won’t speak evil of her. She took our thing more seriously than I did, and it didn’t break as easily as I’d expected. I’ve spent the past few days making sure she understands. I don’t want any crossover, or however you call it.”