Just Watch Me (Riley Wolfe 1)

“Why is that wrong?” I said.

Her eyes blazed up again, and she poked me a lot harder. This time, the poking hurt, too. “People! Are NOT! Chess pieces!” she said. And she glared at me harder than ever, and goddamn it, she looked great, even ticking me off like that, and some part of me wanted to just pull her close and get down to it, even when the rest of me was letting me know it wasn’t go

ing to happen. “Monique,” I said. “I know that. And I know I—sometimes I do some stuff that, that—I mean . . . If I hurt somebody, they pretty much deserve it?”

“What did Katrina do?” she said. “How did she deserve that?”

I felt my mouth swing open, but nothing came out. I mean—Katrina? If it had been, oh, “Benjy didn’t deserve to get thrown off the roof,” or “Hey, that chief was a veteran,” something like that—but Katrina?! “I didn’t hurt her,” I said. “I mean, not, uh . . .” I stopped talking because of what was happening on Monique’s face.

“You married her,” Monique said. “You made her care for you—”

“It wasn’t me,” I protested.

“You lived with her, you slept with her,” she said.

“I had to!” I said. Was this just Monique being jealous? “Monique, that was the whole thing, the key to making it work! I swear, she didn’t mean anything to me!”

“And that makes it even worse!” she yelled. “Goddamn it, Riley, what you did to Katrina was worse than killing her! You shattered her! That poor woman . . .”

“Poor?” I said. “For fuck’s sake, Monique, she’s a billionaire!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to do what you did,” she said.

I didn’t say anything, mostly because I thought it did. People that rich, they’re like leeches. Smug, fat-ass, do-nothing, self-loving leeches. I mean, Katrina’s ass wasn’t fat—but what did she ever do to earn all that money?

Monique finally looked away and got quiet. I let it stay quiet. It was a whole lot better than the talk had been. “I really like you, Riley,” she said after a while. “And I respect you. A lot, maybe more than . . .” She shook her head. “But to use somebody like that. And then just walk away without—” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t . . . I could never . . .” She didn’t finish, didn’t say what she couldn’t, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what it was.

“Monique,” I said at last.

But she just shook her head. And that’s where it stayed.

* * *

—

At least Monique didn’t ask me to take her home. She stayed on with me on my island. That gave me a little hope. I mean, as long as she was right there, hanging out with me every day, who knows? She could get over it, decide I was okay after all. It might be that a whim would take her over, or she’d have a couple of drinks and say what the hell. Or maybe even just change her mind, which women have been known to do?

So she stayed. I guess we even had some fun, just not the kind I’d been counting on. And when the money came in, I got hopeful again. The insurance company paid, and fast. Partly because I only asked for a fraction of what the Daryayeh-E-Noor was worth—but mostly because I knew the government would put the screws to them to get the thing back before the Iranians found out.

So they paid fast, and Monique and I watched the money come in. We watched it together, as it jumped via wire transfer from the Caymans, to Switzerland, to Hong Kong—maybe thirty-some transfers in all, impossible to trace. And I really thought that maybe seeing all that cash might loosen her up. I learned a long time ago the effect that money can have on a woman. It’s even a law—Riley’s Seventh Law: The only real aphrodisiac is money.

And it was a lot of money. Even with my low-ball demand, it was more money than Scrooge McDuck ever had. We watched the money, and I watched Monique, and she seemed just as jazzed about it as I was—but as far as I could tell, it didn’t make her change her mind. I mean, when her cut was confirmed in her offshore account, and she saw how much she’d made, she loosened up enough to give me a hug—but it was a big-sister hug, with nothing on it except “Isn’t that great?” Yahoo.

That was it. Her mind was made up. Riley was a great guy, but his greatness wasn’t worth more than a few hugs. It wasn’t what I wanted. Not even close. But what the hell—I liked being around her. And if it was a little frustrating sometimes—I mean, shit, a LOT frustrating! You should’ve seen her in her bikini!

But that was okay, too. You can get used to almost anything. The days passed, we had a good time, and I kept smiling. Someday, sometime, she would change her mind. I could wait. It was worth it. And if she didn’t change her mind, well—maybe I could think of a way to change it for her. I didn’t know just how I would do that. I just knew I could find some way.

Because there’s always a way. And I always find it.

Just watch me.