Page 21 of Wicked Truths
I want to shake her and tell her it’s possible, but I don’t. I leave her statement hanging in the air between us, like a brewing storm.
When she finds out that I’ve been lying to her and working for her father and brother on the side, she will be crushed and leave again.
I can’t risk another heartbreak like that a second time because this time, I might not recover.
Chapter Six
FRANCESCA
A soft snorefills the air a second before memories of last night flood into my mind.
Shit. I wasn’t supposed to fall into bed with him the night I saw him.
He wasn’t supposed to be caring and sweet and make me dinner, either.
I slowly and carefully climb out of his bed to not disturb him. I need to go downstairs and get the keys to my apartment and head to the arena early.
Grabbing one of Rhett’s oversized Savannah Sharks shirts from his half open dresser drawer, I pick up my clothes from yesterday and head out to his living room.
With the sun shining through the balcony door, his dark apartment doesn’t seem too dark. It looks more elegant and classy than a bachelor pad.
I throw my clothes on the couch before slipping on my bra, Rhett’s shirt, and my jean shorts from yesterday.
Where are my panties? Are they still on his bedroom floor, mixed in with his clothes?
I walk to his bedroom door and listen for any noises.
He lets out a low groan as if he’s starting to wakeup, so I rush back to the couch, grab my shirt, and throw it in my backpack before sneaking out of Rhett’s apartment.
There’s no way I can face him this morning with my mind and heart confused and at war with each other because last night was perfect… too perfect.
Following the path from last night, I get to the elevator and press the down button. I hope the office is open because I need to pee, and I need coffee.
Waiting for the elevator, several male voices make their way down the hallway closer to me.
Those could be players, but I don’t want them meeting me like this. I want to look the part of a professional public relations director.
Glancing down at my current attire, I shrug. Well, as professional as I can be without having my luggage here.
The elevator dings open, and I hurry inside before anyone can see me. This morning, the elevator ride seems to drag on, despite it only having to go down one floor.
Thankfully, the office is open and empty when I get there.
An older woman looks up from her desk calendar. This must be Darla, the apartment manager Rhett called last night.
“Good morning. How can I help you?” Her words are friendly, but her tone and scowl are anything but.
“Good morning, I am Francesca Marino, and I’m here to sign my paperwork and officially move in.”
Her eyes narrow at me before she digs around inthe top drawer of her desk. “You don’t have to sign any paperwork. It’s all been handled. Here are your keys.”
She hands me the keys and my mouth falls open. “That’s it?”
She seems unaffected by my surprise expression.
If I didn’t have to sign any paperwork, why couldn’t they give Rhett my keys before the office closed? Or at least have someone meet me to hand my keys over.
And what about paying my rent? Or setting up a water and electric account? Where do I bring my trash and recycling?