Page 8 of The Sounds of Her
We first hooked up while everyone was celebrating the engagement. Then at another of Adam’s parties, I ran into him again, and he slipped me his number. Once we had that second hook up, it became regular.
I walk naked into the bathroom and close the door. Leaning against the counter, I gaze at my reflection. I look like what I am, recently fucked. He’s leaving on tour with Red Alert soon so this is the last time we’ll meet for a while.
Everyone is leaving New York. Jenna and Elsa left a week ago to meet up with BreakNeck. They’ll be with them for the final four shows of the US leg of the tour. Then on to Southeast Asia, where they’re going to amazing places like Thailand, Vietnam, and Hong Kong, before their last few shows in Australia and New Zealand.
I’ll be flying out to join them in a few days. I’ve stored up my vacation time to make the most of it.
Two weeks with no worries. Hell, no clothes if I don’t want to wear them.
Not for the first time, I wonder what I’m doing with my life. My mother would say I still haven’t achieved everything she hoped for me. That is par for the course where my mom is concerned. I do nothing right according to her exacting standards.
I’m a senior associate at the law firm and work with one of the partners, who is mentoring me in preparation to make partner. I own my apartment and have a comfortable enough savings account that I’m set for a long time. I’m seen out with some of the most eligible bachelors in New York and my best friend is dating one of the world’s biggest rock stars.
Mom brags about me to everyone she knows.Behind closed doors, she makes me feel like a failure. Which is why I avoid her as much as possible.
She lives in Long Island with dad. Coming to New York is a chore, if we ever see each other, she expects me to go to them, which I don’t have time for.
Mom is the definition of an Ice Queen who cares more about money and status, not being there for her daughter.
That said, if she tried, I’d avoid her. A lifetime of coming second does that to a person.
I met up with Ciro because I’ve come off a tough case, which I won, but I needed a release. I get a shower, then leave the bathroom wrapped in a towel.
Ciro is sitting by the window, leaning his elbows on his knees. His pointer fingers press together, resting on his chin, his eyes lift to me when I enter the room.
I walk to the dresser and grab my bra. I let the towel drop and don’t miss how Ciro’s eyes run down my body. We don’t speak as I dress, and after I’ve touched up my make-up and hair, I turn and lean my butt against the dresser, looking at him.
He gets up as I slip my feet into my royal blue Manolo Blahniks, the heel lifting me up almost four inches. I’m five foot seven without heels, so the lift brings me close to his chin height. There is a weird tension between us that isn’t normally there. Perhaps we’re running our course?
I’m not sure how to feel, but this isn’t a relationship.It never will be, because Ciro is an emotional void. Or he’s buried them so deep he can’t find them.
“There’s a band party.”
Ciro can hold eye contact to the point of discomfort, he is so intense.
“And?” I arch a brow.
He sighs, his fists clench. Am I mistaken, or is this him showing some sign of life? Something other than his usual robotic personality?
“Dylan organised it. We’re leaving for our tour.”
I snort, but I cock my head and wait. Everything he’s said is a statement, not a question.
He huffs when I don’t respond. “Do you want to come?” he asks, begrudgingly.
“With an offer like that, how could I refuse?”
“It isn’t like that.”
That stings, even though he’s stating the truth. “So why ask me?”
“I thought you might like it. You enjoy going to parties.”
Wow. I grab my purse and put it over my shoulder. Should I go? Could I get Ciro to open up? Or do we keep screwing in hotels?
“I’m busy.”
“I didn’t tell you when it is,” he says, a frown marring his brow.