She grumbled. “I do.”
“So why aren’t you at your home?”
“I’m not really happy being there right now.”
“Why not?”
“I’d rather not get into it,” she said curtly, and quickly changed subjects. “How far to your boss’s house?”
“He lives near Summerlin. So about thirty minutes.”
“Then let’s make smart use of our time, yeah? I need to know everything about you and Jane. Tell me all you can.”
I nodded. “Good idea.”
It was like walking a tightrope, trying to give Olivia the info she needed, without explicitly telling her I was a pro hockey player and my “boss” was Mr. Capuano. I know it’s kinda fucked up and selfish of me, but I was seriously worried that if Olivia knew we were going to the house of a guy who might very well be a mafia boss, she might get cold feet and back out on me. And that was a risk I just couldn’t take.
Plus, if I’m being honest? I liked keeping the ace card up my sleeve—that I’m a pro athlete—for the right moment. When played at the right time, that card will make a woman,anywoman, melt in your hands.
“Can you tell meanythinguseful about your boss?” she asked, frustrated at the lack of detail I’d given her so far.
“Thereissomething else.” I scratched at my neck. “But I’m kind of afraid to tell you because I don’t want you to get scared.”
Startled, she leaned away from me. “Uh,what?Now you have to tell me.”
“How do I put this?” I stroked my chin and stalled for time. “He’s um. Afamilyman.”
“Okay …” Her eyes narrowed skeptically. “And why do you say it like that?”
“He’s Italian. Get my drift?”
“Are you implying he’s in the mafia because he’s Italian?” She tutted. “Because if you are, that’s so unbelievably stupid and disappointing.”
I grinned, relieved. “You’d like my friend, Isabelle. She said the exact same thing.”
“Yeah, because it’s a dumb stereotype,” she said. “So why didn’t you ask Isabelle to be Jane?”
“Because Isabelle’s married to my coworker.”
“You seem really close to all your coworkers …”
“Well, yeah. We’re tight. We’re a family. And my work is my life.”
“And what is your work, exactly? Are you ever going to tell me? Or are you going to walk me into your boss’s house with no idea what it is you actually do?”
I filibustered for time as Olivia asked about my life, giving her vague non-answers about what it is I do and how I make so much money that I can pay a girl thirty grand on a whim. Eventually, she got frustrated.
“Dakota, you’re setting me up for failure. I don’t know anything about your job.”
“Hey, I don’t know anything aboutyourjob, either.”
“I’m playing a fictional character, so you don’t need to. Besides, I’ve never had a job, remember?”
“Didn’t you have a job where you pretended to be someone’s girlfriend?”
She groaned. “Not this again.”
“You know, after my second workout today, I went over to Brett’s house to hang for a bit. He asked about you, and I told him I was hiring you to be my Jane tonight. I mentioned you were an actress, and you said you’d done something like this before, but I didn’t know exactly what. When McKayla heard us talking, she—”
