Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1)

“I figured as much.” He adjusts the tips of the navy bow tie around his neck.

I give him the once-over. His dark blue pants are tailored. The pinstriped shirt he’s wearing isn’t off the rack.

He’s dressed to the nines today, so I ask the obvious question. “Do you have a job interview?”

“Where the hell would I find a job that pays me as much as you do?” He huffs out a laugh. “I’m here until you die, Rocco.”

“I get the message.” I nod. “I would have preferred a different delivery.”

“Fine,” he spits out. “I’m here until you retire, so don’t do that for at least another thirty years. I need to pay off the mortgage on my apartment.”

I smile. “Duly noted.”

He glances over his shoulder at his desk. “I’m having lunch with someone.”

“A date?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Do I know her?”

“You haven’t met,” he says, scratching the base of his neck. “She’s related to a client.”

That should sound an alarm for me, but it doesn’t. Silas tuned me into what was going on when he texted me a picture two nights ago of Jared at a bar with him and his sister.

My assistant couldn’t take his eyes off of the woman.

My silence is enough to spur Jared to confess. “Fine. I’m crushing hard for Silas’s sister, Monique, all right?”

“Crushing hard?” I cock a brow. “How old are you again?”

“Old enough to know that I sound like an idiot when I talk like that.” He laughs. “I’m taking off and I can’t promise I’ll be back today.”

I’d balk at that, but I’m hoping that Dexie is going to extend her lunch hour beyond sixty minutes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jared. Enjoy.”

He’s out of the office before I can get another word in.

It’s fucking perfect.

I’m getting everything I want.

Time alone with Dexie Walsh and the chance to talk about all those nights spent at our windows.

I missed her last night because I hit the gym at midnight to work off my restless energy, but if our meeting goes well, tonight will be different.

Glass won’t be separating us; nothing will be.

***

“I want to be transparent.” She bites on the corner of her bottom lip. “I mean, I need to be transparent.”

I need to be fucking you.

I shake those words away, instead shifting my focus from her mouth to her eyes.

Her left iris is slightly darker than the right.

I’ve never met a woman as unique as Dexie Walsh.

“I’m meeting Rhoda tomorrow to talk about my business. We’re having a drink after work.”

Her chest heaves on a sigh and my eyes drop to the front of the cream-colored dress she’s wearing.