Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1)

I keep my eyes trained on the blond-haired guy who is enthusiastically listing off the benefits of getting into the great outdoors and out of the confines of Manhattan.

“The buildings in this city are so close together you can practically touch your neighbors,” he spouts to a chorus of laughter from his colleagues.

My mind wanders to the other

night and the beauty that lives in the apartment across from mine. I haven’t spotted her since, although much of my time this week has been focused on getting a deal locked in with Silas.

The bar around the corner from his office is where he prefers to conduct business, so I met him there two nights ago and again last night. He tried to convince me to accept a smaller equity percentage in Word Wize in exchange for a higher share in the new app idea he’s already working on.

It was a hard pass.

I kept my eye on my watch the entire time I was with him. I wanted out of the bar so I could get home to my window and the woman next door.

I rake my fingers through my hair. Just thinking about my beautiful neighbor’s body sets off a firestorm inside of me.

If she’s there when I get home tonight, I’m going to make it clear to her that I want our exchanges to progress from searing gazes through glass to my hands on her body.

“I’m in,” Rhoda announces in the middle of the guy’s pitch. “I love it. I’ll give you exactly what you’re asking.”

I hear the audible sigh of relief from Glenn as I breathe out one of my own.

Two more presentations to sit through and I’ll be free.

Chapter 13

Dexie

Last.

I’m the very last person to enter that conference room.

I’ve been sitting in this waiting room for hours watching person after person walk through that door to face the trio of investors on the other side.

Some exited with smiles on their faces, a few were in tears. It was obvious that there was no joy attached to those.

The large group of people who went in thirty minutes ago came out high-fiving each other. They got a deal.

Right now, a woman a few years older than me is behind the closed door trying to convince at least one of the people with the big bank accounts to partner with her in an organic soap business.

I listened while she rehearsed her pitch.

It was good, so good.

She obviously took hours to polish her presentation.

I did too, but the lump in my throat is telling me that I should have invested more time into preparing for this.

I feel a mix of anxiety and regret, but I push it aside when I take a deep breath.

“You’re going to do great, Ms. Walsh.”

I look up to where Lenore Halston is standing next to the closed door of the conference room. She’s been in and out of there all afternoon.

I smile in response.

“I promise that none of them bite,” she says softly. “Can I get you anything? There’s a coffee room down the hall. I’m about to head down there to grab myself a bottle of water.”

It was the one thing I forgot to slide into my purse before I left home.