I texted Emilia to let her know and her reply was short and neutral in tone.
See you when you get back. Travel safe.
***
Time dragged in New York. We met with the insurance people in their Manhattan offices and it wasn’t an easy week. Long meetings, depositions, discussions, strategy. Days were stress-filled and nights were empty. I picked up the phone at least twice every night to call Emilia, but I resisted.
She hadn’t even texted me.
I’d traveled a lot for my job in the past but now everything felt more raw, more poignant and whether it was this bullshit with Emilia, the nature of the suit we were facing against the company or a combination of both, I couldn’t say.
I stared out the window from the back of a town car, watching as we passed the crowded sidewalks of Manhattan while Jordan shifted in the seat beside me.
“Damn, that was so annoying,” Jordan said as the driver took us back to the hotel. He closed his eyes, rubbing them through his lids. “If I have to do another depo, I’m going to lose it.”
I checked my phone for any text messages that might have come while I was in the meeting and found it still empty of texts. Jordan darted a look at me, then at the phone. “What say we go out and have some fun tonight? Like the old days.”
I snorted. The old days. I could never keep up with him then. Jordan was a drinker. I, most decidedly, was not. Jordan was a womanizer and while I’d never lacked for female companionship when I wanted it, I’d never had the same tastes he did.
Jordan liked his women flawless, gorgeous and empty-headed. “Come on, we could go take in a club, maybe meet a few lovely ladies who are really into California guys.”
“It’s New York, no one’s into California guys here.”
Jordan looked at my phone again. I tucked it into the pocket of my jacket. “So, uh, you still hanging out with Mia or…”
I glanced out the window. We hadn’t discussed the surprise party since it had happened. No one besides Heath—with whom I assumed she was staying—knew that she’d left the previous weekend.
I shifted, uncomfortable and trying to ignore that slice of dread whenever I thought about Emilia and our relationship since she had walked out. I estimated that by now she had come back to the house, probably figuring this would be a good time to let the fallout from our confrontation blow over. That thought relieved me a little. I cleared my throat. “There are bumps in the road. We’ll be okay.”
Jordan raised his brows, pleasantly surprised. “So you’re still a ‘we’…good.”
“Glad I’m off the market and not in competition with you anymore?”
Jordan laughed. “At least let me buy you a drink at the bar.”
I nursed a beer in the hotel bar while Jordan knocked back a couple rum and cokes. We talked about all kinds of things—old times, the company, ideas for the storyline for the next expansion of Dragon Epoch.
As he finished up his third drink, Jordan jerked his chin at me, casting a glance behind me. “That blonde at the end of the bar has not stopped staring at you.”
I smirked. “Jealous much?”
He gave me a crafty smile. “I bet I could get her number for you.”
“I don’t want her number. Get it for yourself.”
“You’re not even going to look to see how hot she is?”
I took another sip of my beer. “Nope. Not interested.”
Jordan looked at me as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “Of all people—of all my friends—you were the last one I would have pegged for getting infected by the love virus.”
“Wow, when you put it that way, it sounds so pleasant.”
“It’s shocking, really, considering that you’re you. And, of course, how you even met her.”
I frowned. “What, you mean in the game?”
“No, I mean how you really met her. That whole Pretty Woman thing.”
Suddenly uncomfortable, I put the beer down but didn’t look at Jordan. Jordan had known from the beginning about the original arrangement between Emilia and me. But he’d never once made reference to it, until now. And the allusion to the movie did not amuse me. In essence, he was calling Emilia my prostitute and that didn’t sit well with me. I shot him a warning look and he raised a placating hand.
It was odd that he’d do this now, half-soused or not. “So, at least you know she’s not a gold digger, since she turned down your proposal. Unless she turned you down because she thought you’d think that…”