“Because I didn’t like it.” He tucks his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling fan overhead.
“Obviously,” I say. “But why?”
“Because it didn’t fit the narrative I wanted.”
I could push this. I could push it so hard. I could call him out on his ambiguity until I squeeze an answer from his perfect mouth—but we had such a magical night last night, and I’m still coming down from this morning’s orgasmic high, and I’m not about to ruin any of that.
Another time, maybe.
But not now.
“I’m going to hit the shower.” He leans up, flinging the covers from his lower body, and makes his way to the bathroom. I take a moment to admire the view.
The clock on his nightstand reads 6:00 a.m., and I debate whether I can sneak down to the kitchen to grab a glass of water without being caught by Scarlett. She doesn’t leave for school until seven thirty, so I should be safe . . .
With all of this being so new and unexpected, West mentioned he didn’t want to say anything to her yet until he had time to sit down and explain it.
Sliding out of bed, I slide my feet into a pair of his oversize house slippers before tiptoeing down the hall and taking the elevator to the kitchen level. The hallway is enveloped in early-morning darkness when I step off, but I make it to my destination without a sound.
Tugging on the fridge door, I feast my eyes on an illuminated, professionally organized assortment of beverages and produce. Selecting a bottle of Evian from the top shelf, I let the door glide closed before turning to leave—only the second I spin on my heel, I come face to face with a wild-eyed Scarlett.
She screams.
I scream.
My heart free-falls to the floor. “Good Lord, Scarlett. You scared the hell out of me.”
“What are you doing here?” Her lips are twisted in disbelief as her pale gaze drags the length of me. The mental and physical breeze I’ve been floating on since last night comes to a screeching halt before swiftly evaporating into thin air.
Tugging the hem of West’s T-shirt, I take a step back.
“Did you sleep with my uncle?” Her jaw sets, and her arms fold across her chest. “Oh my God. You did. You slept with Uncle West.”
“Scarlett, I’m so sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”
“I knew it. I knew you were on his side.”
“This isn’t about sides . . .”
“You were probably telling him every single thing we talked about, every single thing I did, everything I told you in confidence,” she says.
“Not at all, Scarlett. It wasn’t like that—”
“Then what? Were you using me to get to him?” She spits her words in a heated frenzy, dragging her hand through her hair before grabbing a fistful. “Was the whole mentor thing just a way to—”
“God, no.” I splay my hand over my chest. “Scarlett, on my life, none of that is true. Your uncle and I . . . it just sort of happened.”
She rolls her eyes, refusing to look at me. “How long have you two been hooking up behind my back?”
Her entitlement to this information bewilders me, but I restrain a reaction. She’s in shock. She feels betrayed and kept out of the loop.
“Not long,” I say. I begin to elaborate until a tall figure fills the kitchen doorway and flicks on the lights.
Not only is the dark room suddenly illuminated—but so is the clenched expression on West’s face when he sees what’s going on.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I was just grabbing a water . . . I didn’t know she’d be up.”
“You’re such a liar, Uncle West,” Scarlett says to him, eyes brimming with tears. “You didn’t hire her to mentor me; you hired her to spy on me. She’s not here for my benefit—she’s here for yours. Mama was right about you. You only care about yourself.”
“I told you that’s not true,” I say to her, before turning to West. “West, I told her that wasn’t true; I—”
He lifts a hand to silence me.
The dark countenance on his face is one I’ve seen before in the boardroom: disappointment. The jovial mood he was in earlier this morning has deserted him, replaced with a furious glint in his eye and a heavy, unnerving silence that suffocates the room.
But this isn’t a staff meeting. I won’t be muzzled. Or afraid of his wrath.
“I know this isn’t how we wanted her to find out, but she was going to find out sooner or later,” I interject in an attempt to quell his mood. “Scarlett, why don’t you have a seat, sweetheart, and we can talk about this?”
She swipes at a tear, her pointed glare tracking to West and then me and back again. It’s going to take a fair amount of talking to convince her none of this was intentional, nor were we going behind her back in any kind of nefarious way. And I can see her point—she viewed me as a friend, a trusted confidante. Now that trust is in question because I’m sleeping with her uncle unbeknownst to her. It’s weird, it’s sticky, and I get it.