Page 31 of His to Love
His response was almost instant.
Blackbird: Tomorrow
Since I didn’t know if that was a question or a promise, I didn’t respond. Grinning, I slid the phone back onto the table, curled under my covers, and fell asleep with one arm wrapped around Tyson’s pillow from the night before, wishing like hell I that hadn’t let the cleaning crew into my room so I could still smell him on the sheets and pillowcase.
I didn’t even care if that made me seem crazy anymore.
—
“You look distracted, bella.”
Clarissa’s gentle and accented voice pulled me out of the daydreams that I had been having of Tyson. She was completely right. My cheeks warmed under her knowing smile.
“I’m just looking for jobs.”
She snapped a towel on the kitchen counter as she passed me. “Looks to me you have a man on your mind and not a job.”
I pressed my lips together, but she still saw the smile in my eyes.
“You going to tell me about him?”
I shook my head. While Clarissa knew about Tyson and me in high school, she had always warned me it was a bad idea, even while helping me hide it. I knew what it could have cost her. I wouldn’t do that to her again. Not that there was anything to hide.
Because today was tomorrow and it was already two in the afternoon and I hadn’t spoken to Tyson about the date he wanted to take me on. I hadn’t heard from him at all since that text. And I still didn’t know if I could even go on a date with Tyson because I also hadn’t heard from Malik Rilotti.
I desired to see or speak with only one of those men.
The wondering and the waiting left me feeling scatterbrained for most of the afternoon I had been at my parents’ house. Deciding it didn’t make sense to do my work at the hotel and then come see my mom only to have her sleep, I chose to do both at once and got dressed and ready that morning in attire my father would deem “appropriate,” which meant my toes were crammed into heels and I was wearing dress pants. I had loosened the button and zipper on the pants and kicked off the heels hours ago, but I still didn’t feel comfortable. Regardless, when my father had seen me, he seemed pleased as he dipped his chin in my direction and hurried out the door to a meeting.
I had spent the day alternating between visiting my mom upstairs and shooting off résumés in the kitchen while she slept. Clarissa was my only, albeit sporadic, company during the day and she had caught me daydreaming twice. She caught me playing mindless games on my cellphone three times.
Only once did she see me email a résumé or contact a hotel about an event planner position.
Turns out that while the economy in Detroit was on the upswing, people still weren’t in party mode yet, and my options were slim. I let loose a growl of frustration, my hands harshly brushing through my hair as I continued to stare at the computer screen. Annoyance with my own situation grew with every passing moment.
Technically, I didn’t have to work. I knew this. I had a nice, hefty trust fund sitting in a bank account, every year growing more interest than I could ever imagine spending. I never wanted to touch it, though, considering I knew that some of the ways that money was earned was with blood, drugs, and other illegal activities I didn’t want to know about. As far as I was concerned, it didn’t exist to me, but on days when I saw the small amount I’d saved from odd jobs in Colorado and from working on the farm, its temptation called to me.
My phone buzzed on the counter and I reached for it, hope blooming in my chest that it might be Tyson. But the number was unknown, and I quickly slid my thumb across the screen, thinking it could be someone about a job I had applied for.
“Hello?”
And hope disappeared when a masculine voice replied, “Hello, Gabriella.”
Based on the slight accent, and the deep tone, I instantly knew who had called.
“Mr. Rilotti.”
A low, rough chuckle filtered through the phone. My fingers gripped it tighter. “Come now, Gabriella. We’ve known of each other for too long to be so formal, and hopefully will know each other better soon.” A cold, slick feeling slid down my spine. I stayed silent, letting that speak for itself when he smoothly said, “I would like to see you for dinner tonight.”
I jerked back in my chair. “Tonight?” A quick scan of my body proved I wasn’t dressed in anything nearly suitable enough for dinner. I was certain my hair was bedraggled after running my fingers through it all day.
“No time like the present to discuss our arrangement, I believe.”
Arrangement. I scowled at the word and thank goodness no one saw me do it, especially him. Malik Rilotti was a man I knew only in name and through brief introductions. At fifteen years my senior, and a widower for the last several years, I couldn’t imagine we would have anything in common. Reminding myself that this was for my mother, for appearance, and simply for one meeting and not an arrangement, as he seemed to think, I forced down my unwanted feelings and played my role.
“Certainly, Mr….Malik. Dinner tonight will be lovely. Where would you like to meet?”
“A man doesn’t meet a woman for an evening out, Gabriella. I will pick you up at your hotel at six thirty.”
