Page 44 of Empire of Lust
Blinking rapidly, I look around again, waiting for one of them to laugh. It must be a joke.
When nobody reacts except to share knowing expressions, I ask, “For real?”
Micah, who sits across from me, rolls his eyes and shrugs. “I guess they figured analyzing spreadsheets would be more exciting than it is.”
Josh bursts out into laughter. “Yeah, people only think they can handle the excitement before they get started with the job.”
Strange. I’ve been telling myself I need to get with it since everybody seems happy to be there and happy in their work. Like there must be something broken inside me if I can’t get with the program.
Now, the truth is coming out. I see it in the way they snort over their drinks.
If anything, their honesty eases some of the arguing I’ve done with myself. Telling myself I should be grateful, that if everybody else seems happy to work there, I should be happy, too. There’s nothing wrong with living a quiet life and having a steady job at a firm run by good people who care about their employees.
What does it matter if it still feels like something is missing? It’s not like my judgment has been great lately. I’m obsessing over a man who’s murdered people and threatened to do the same to me. Did I mention I’m also staying under his roof when I should stop at nothing to get away from him?
I’m probably having a midlife crisis twenty years too early.
“Hey, it’s you!”
It takes me a second to realize the bartender is talking to me, and then another second to realize what he means. The cute guy with the nice arms and dimples. To think I didn’t flirt with him because I had a boyfriend.
“Oh, yeah! Hi!”
“I didn’t recognize you at first,” he explains. “You’re not as dressed up.”
“You didn’t say you were a regular,” Stephanie teases while flashing a wide smile that tells me she wouldn’t turn him down if he started flirting with her. I wish I had that kind of confidence.
“I’m not, but I was here a while ago.” And he remembers me. I don’t know what to think about that. Tatum has always been the memorable one while I tagged along behind her. It’s different; people liking me for me.
“And he remembers you?” She purses her lips and looks me up and down like she doesn’t quite believe things were that innocent.
“We chatted once. No big deal.”
She glances his way, and I recognize the interest twinkling in her eyes. “So, there’s nothing going on between you?”
“If you want to flirt with the guy, go ahead. Shoot your shot.” It’s nice that she wants to be sure she’s not stepping on my toes. The fact is, I’m not interested in him.
Not when Callum exists. I don’t know what it says about me that I can’t help comparing every man in the world to him. He’s violent and terrifying, and he hates me. He still hasn’t spoken a word to me since that night. A month at my new job. A month without him.
Why can’t I move on? Hell, I’ve already moved on from Lucas, and we were together for five years. But I can’t shake Callum, and not only because I’m still living in Tatum’s part of the house. I can’t help but hope every single night that he’ll come to me and explain everything away.
“Come on. Let’s dance.” Jenna and Stephanie tug the guys onto the floor despite their protests.
“I’ll order another round,” I offer, waving them off. I’m not exactly in the mood for dancing, even if it would be healthier than sitting here wondering what Callum’s doing and if he’s figured out I’m coming home late tonight.
The guy behind the bar winks when he notices me waiting. “So, you found a way to fill up all that free time?”
I can’t believe he remembers our conversation. Maybe he does actually like me.Sorry, but somebody else got to me first and sort of ruined me for all other men forever. The fact he wants to kill me is irrelevant.
“Yeah, I’ve been at this new job for a while. It’s going well.” A glance over my shoulder reveals the girls coaxing the guys into at least mimicking the idea of dancing. They’re… trying.
He snickers, watching them along with me. “Whatever it is you do, I hope it has nothing to do with having coordination. Or rhythm.”
I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t help it. “No, they wouldn’t last long, would they?”
The phone behind the bar rings, and he turns away to answer it, grabbing the vodka bottle as he does. “Yes?”
Instantly, his head turns, his gaze aimed at a tinted window on the upper level. It sits smack in the middle of the wall, flanked on both sides by tables for guests. “Okay. Yes, of course. Will do.” He hangs up and begins pulling our drinks together without looking back my way.