“Is it bad if I do the whole,It’s not you, it’s most definitely mething?” I asked.
He sighed. “Are you breaking up with me then?”
“Aren’tyoubreaking up with me?”
“I’m going to be completely honest with you. If you’d picked up the phone when I called this morning, I would probably have done just that,” Victor said, but he sounded calm and measured. “I was enraged.”
“I get it.”
“But we have an open relationship,” he conceded.
“So you can’t complain...” I regretted those words the moment they left my mouth. But, by now, you know I am truly the worst.
“Elena, sometimes I think you have the emotional intelligence of a five-year-old,” Victor said. “But I like you nonetheless, and I’m a believer in mending things. I feel we had the perfect partnership. I’m not saying we shouldn’t talk about it. A few details could be ironed out going forward.”
Ironed out? Who the hell uses that expression when talking about a relationship? A politician, that’s who. Also, as you may have grasped, I’m not big into ironing—literal meaning or otherwise.
“We did have a great partnership, but it felt more like a business than a romance, no?” I argued. “You needed a plus one for a work event, I’d go and try my best at innocuous small talk. And then we’d leave the event, you’d go to your place, and I’d go to mine.”
“Well, nobody is perfect,” Victor said.
“Are you quotingSome Like It Hotto me?”
“Would it help my case if I said I was?”
I mean, yes. But I couldn’t keep doing the whole triangle thing. It wasn’t fair to him, and it wasn’t fair to me. Because, let’s keep things real, I was doubting my feelings about Victor, but subconsciously I knew what I felt about David. And it didn’t even come close.
“Can you promise we’ll be friends?” I asked.
“Ouch. Not even Billy Wilder could help me.”
“I was always more of a Hitchcock person—though it’s hard to ignore the stories about how he treated his actresses.”
“Of course.”
“But can we be friends?” I insisted.
“If that’s all you want to be, we’ll be friends,” he promised, and I knew he’d find a way of keeping his word. If for no other reason than I was still his boss’s daughter and someone incredibly well connected in Los Angeles. “Elena, be careful though. I’ve heard things. You know I’m not a gossip, and I know nothing about your personal relationship with David. But are you sure he’s telling you everything?”
“What do you mean?”
Victor paused, then said, “There are rumors.”
“He didn’t kill Dashing Henry,” I said, sounding perhaps a bit too frustrated.
“I wasn’t referring tothoserumors.”
“What rumors were you talking about then?”
“The ones about a job offer, tentative to his ability to remain independent.”
“He’s always been independent.” I dismissed Victor’s words, his warning.
“In your view, perhaps. But there are people who think being linked to the mayor’s daughter disqualifies him. But these are just rumors, don’t put too much weight on them. I’m more worried about him being a killer.”
I scoffed. “He’s not a killer!”
“I gather you haven’t read the latest article?”
