Deception (Infidelity #3)(13)
She stood. “I’m going to check on Lennox. Are you sure you’re not hungry?”
I stood and pulled her close. “Not for food.”
Angelina playfully shook her head. “Well then, you’d better plan on eating lasagna for breakfast for the next few days.”
The corners of my lips moved upward. “The breakfast of champions.”
AFTER TOSSING AND turning for most of the night, I woke early and decided that more sleep was not in my immediate future. The cold sheets were my stark reminder that I was alone. In only a short time, I’d grown accustomed to waking beside Nox, basking in the warmth radiating from his hard body. Closing my eyes, I imagined the way I’d often find his muscular arm draped protectively over my waist as our bodies spooned, fitting together as one. As night turned to morning, even in his sleep his erection would probe my back, the best alarm clock I’d ever had.
Sighing in the dark of Patrick’s spare room, I concentrated on what had happened to that fairytale. I thought about what I knew or what I thought I knew. I replayed the scene from the night before a hundred times. As I did, I realized that I hadn’t asked Nox if he’d killed his wife. I’d asked him to tell me that he wasn’t responsible for her death.
What would a man like Nox deem as responsible? What did Pat mean about a hit? What kind of case and testimony did Jocelyn’s family have against Nox? Why hadn’t it already been pursued if her death occurred years ago?
More questions swirled.
I recalled weeks ago that Deloris told me Demetri Enterprises was an umbrella, one with some nefarious subsidiaries. Well, she hadn’t used that word, but now with Bryce’s note, it seemed accurate. Nox had said that Demetri Enterprises was an investor in Infidelity. Was that what Bryce meant by prostitution?
Still lying upon the bed, my shoulders straightened indignantly, my bare feet sliding upon the soft sheets as I wondered how Bryce would feel if he learned that for only a brief time, I’d been an employee of Infidelity. If Pat were right that Bryce needed me for a cover, maybe I wouldn’t be his best choice.
I also wondered if Patrick had considered Millie Ashmore, my high school best friend, an easy lay? Was she on the list he’d supplied? The idea of her, the girl claiming to be my friend, sleeping with not only my boyfriend but also my cousin made me physically ill.
I threw back the blankets. The train of thought I was riding had taken a downward spiral. It was time to disembark before it crashed. Willing myself forward, I decided to get my day going. Despite all hell breaking loose around me, I had class this morning, followed by a discussion session. From everything I’d gathered, the discussion was invaluable.
Thirty-five minutes later, showered and dressed for class, I was contemplating my breakfast and raiding the refrigerator of fruit when Pat entered, all debonair and dressed for work. His spicy cologne reached me even before his footsteps stopped.
Turning his direction, like a thief with my hand caught in the cookie jar, I smiled. “You really do clean up well!” As he made his best GQ-worthy pose, I giggled and asked, “How are things at Kassee?”
“Going really well. Are you finding everything you want?”
“Yes,” I replied as I laid the food on the counter. “You did say make yourself at home.”
“I did,” he confirmed. “I don’t know if you remember, but on the day of your… interview, I had a presentation at Kassee that I couldn’t miss?”
Though that wasn’t high on my radar that day, I did remember.
“I do. Did it go well?”
His brown eyes sparkled as he took a piece of my pineapple. “It went so well, later, one of the partners talked to me about employment after my internship is complete.”
“Pat, that’s fantastic. What does Cy think?”
“Hmm?”
I squinted my eyes his direction. “Why are you humming at me?”
“Because as much as you’re fighting it, you’re thinking like one of a couple. If you weren’t, you’d have said, that’s fantastic. What are you going to do?”
I shrugged as I hit the button on the coffee machine. It hissed and sputtered filling the kitchen with the delectable aroma of a French roast brew as I recalled my lonely wake-up. “I miss him. I woke up this morning and rolled toward him.”
Pat’s fingers laced through mine. “Honey, I bet he feels the same. Call him. Do it now, or you’ll never be able to concentrate on those boring professors.”
I squeezed his hand and then released mine. “Thanks for the advice, but as I said, I left the ball in his court.”
“You know, you can’t—”
I interrupted, almost telling him I could, but settled for saying, “I know.”
Pat glanced at the clock on the microwave. “I didn’t think you went to class this early.”
It wasn’t even seven. Since I was up, leaving early was part of my rebellion against surveillance strategy. “I don’t, but since I’m up I thought I’d head to campus and get a little reading done in the library before class.”
“You can stay here. I’m heading out. It’ll be quiet.”
I shrugged. “I know. Thanks, but I need to move.”
Patrick kissed my forehead. “Sure thing. You move. Have you called that bodyguard guy to drive you?”