Page 36 of Not on the Same Page

“Can you come to the office?” I ask again, my voice lower, huskier. Almost needy, though I hope she can’t hear that through the phone.

Trina is quiet for a lingering moment, but I don’t dare interrupt her thoughts. She’s always liked to come to decisions in her own time. Showing even a little pressure or impatience makes her skittish.

“Is it a good idea to work together?” The question is tentative, her voice sounding far away and so unlike her, I’d think she handed the phone to someone else if I didn’t know any better.

“Is it a bad idea to work together?” I counter. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”

She huffs a humorless laugh. “It wasn’t a good idea before, either.”

“Nothing is set in stone.” There’s a softness to my tone that I’ve used a few other times, when I’ve sensed her uncertainty. “I have an opportunity I want to run by you first, is all.”

“You can’t tell me over the phone?” She still sounds meek and nervous. I can picture her biting her nails as we talk, and I want to take her hand in mine again to run my thumb back and forth across her wrist.

“I’d rather see you.” I can give her this small piece of honesty. The full truth is that I’m almost desperate to see her, especially after hearing how weary she sounds through this whole conversation. I want to see her and know she’s okay, soothe away any worry she might have, press against her and help her clear her head for a time.

“Okay,” she finally agrees. Stronger now, more sure. “I can be there in an hour.”

“Perfect.”

“For a second, I thought you might call me a good girl.” Her bright, humorous tone is back now. Whatever was bothering her has been shoved down to the dark recesses of her brain, leaving the smart, capable, confident side of her showing.

“Do you want me to call you a good girl?” I can’t help asking.

“Maybe later.” Her voice sounds like a smile, like sunshine after the rain, and the sound goes straight to my dick. “See you soon, Casey.”

“Looking forward to it,” I say before hanging up.

If only she knew how much.

13

TRINA

I’m barely through Casey’s office door when I attack him with the question that’s been plaguing me the entire way over here.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Starlight?”

And it wasn’t just on the way over here that my hyperfixation started. No, it began almost immediately after Isabella told me about his promotion. It took over almost everything in my brain, punctuated only by texts and phone calls from my aunt that I keep replying to with evasive answers that only make her more persistent.

I tried not to be hurt. I really did. I’m not even really sure why I’m so upset about it. We used to be friends, but we haven’t talked in over a year. Even then, he doesn’t owe me personal information. He doesn’t even owe me work information. Not since I stopped pitching him titles.

But he showed up at my hotel room ready to eat, and I can’t shake the feeling that I deserved to know about this huge new thing in his career. He certainly had ample opportunity to tell me about it after we fucked.

Casey studies me from his side of the desk. I hate the power dynamics at play here. Usually when we meet, he makes a point to come out from behind his desk and sit at the small table in the corner of his office. I can’t help but wonder if his choice to stay seated was a result of my impatient question or a way to exert some power over me for whatever reason he asked me to meet in the first place. Maybe he’ll get up now that I’m fully in the room with the door closed behind me.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Trina?” He waves at one of the chairs facing his desk.

Definitely a power move, then.

The image of him standing behind me—gripping the flesh of my hips, leaving handprints on my skin—flashes through my mind. He had all the power then, and I let him. And I liked it. I always like it when he takes control of me like that. He clears my mind, whether he knows that’s what he’s doing or not.

I’d love my mind to be clear right now. My problem has always been that once I start obsessing over something, it’s hard for me to dig my way back out. And I’ve certainly been obsessing over Casey and his new job.

Taking a deep breath in through my nose as he watches me, I let it out slowly and drop into the chair. Casey’s gaze follows me, that intensity radiating off of him. By the way his dark eyes are burning through me, it almost feels like he’s turned on. But that can’t be. We’re at work. And he hid this from me, as if all I am is his fuck buddy when it’s convenient for him.

I have to maintain some kind of upper hand in this. My grasp on reality is slowly slipping.

“Tell me about the job,” I demand, though my tone remains gentle—curious, almost.