I’m as far from Mr. Calvetti’s type as a woman can be. I laugh off the suggestion. “Me?”
Sinclair doesn’t crack a smile. “Yes, you. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re beautiful. You’re smart, and you’re one of the most badass women I’ve ever met.”
Pointing my index finger at her, I grin. “I can say the same about you, so I will.”
“Look at us.” She sits back in her chair. “We’re two hotties stuffing our faces with Italian food. The men of this city have no idea what they’re missing. That includes The Dick.”
I don’t think Dominick’s missing anything.
Right at this moment, he probably has a woman pinned to a bed somewhere in this city while she screams his name.
“You’re drifting again,” Sinclair accuses. “Are you thinking about Dominick, or is it Lowell?”
It should be Lowell.
I want to daydream about him.
This seems like the perfect time to stop talking about men, so I circle back to what we were discussing on our way to the restaurant. “About that new phone I told you to get. When is that happening? It’s been three days since you lost yours.”
“I didn’t lose it. I misplaced it,” she corrects me. “It’s too soon to get a new one. It might turn up. On the plus side, I’m getting a lot more work done now that I don’t have a phone. There are zero distractions.”
“At least use my tablet. Emailing me from your computer isn’t working.”
She laughs. “It’s working fine for me.”
It’s not for me. Since she refuses to download a messaging app to her laptop, we’ve been stuck emailing each other. “I write enough emails a day for and to Mr. Calvetti. I need you to get a new phone, so we can go back to calling and texting.”
“I’ll do that soon.” Sinclair picks up the wine bottle and empties what’s left into her glass. “I know what you need more than anything.”
“What?” I ask hesitantly.
“New lingerie.”
“Why?”
“Because the night you meet Lowell, you want to be wearing something that will blow his mind before you blow him.”
I laugh. “I’m not having sex with him on our first date.”
“You never know.” She lifts her glass as if to toast me. “Here’s to wearing pretty lingerie and taking chances on first dates.”
I raise my glass and tap it against hers. “Here’s to good friends.”
“Cheers!” she exclaims. “I want a preview of the lingerie so I can approve it before the date.”
“Deal,” I agree with a nod of my head.
New lingerie can’t hurt, even if I have no intention of doing anything with Lowell before our third date.
Rules are rules, after all, and I always follow the ones I set for myself.
Chapter 4
Arietta
Cursing under my breath, I roll over in bed when I hear it.
The sound of fingernails dragging across a chalkboard means that Mr. Calvetti has sent me an email. I got used to hearing the alert from my phone at all hours of the day or night when he was in Sicily. I’m surprised to hear it this late since he’s back in Manhattan.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.
The sound itself is jarring. I downloaded it after Sinclair directed me to an app that contained a catalog of audio clips, including what sounds like someone vomiting and another of a woman screaming.
I feel Dudley stir at my feet. He’s a sweet Yorkshire Terrier. Technically he belongs to Sinclair, but we agreed to share custody. He’s supposed to be in his kennel in the kitchen, but I snuck him out and brought him into my room after Sinclair went to bed.
I pick up my eyeglasses from the nightstand so I can see the time display on my phone.
It’s almost midnight.
My boss’s message sits on top of at least a dozen other work-related emails that have arrived since I left the office.
I slide my finger over the screen to find out what Mr. Calvetti wants.
Subject: Tomorrow A.M.
Miss Voss,
Arrange the delivery of an assortment of breakfast items to the office by 8 a.m. tomorrow.
Skip the place you used the last time as the croissants looked dry, and the berries were at least a day past their peak freshness.
Also, pick up two coffees from Palla on Fifth on your way to work. One is for me. The other for Mr. Fetzer. I trust you remember how he takes his coffee.
I expect you at the office at 7:45 sharp.
Signed,
Dominick Calvetti
Dropping my phone on the bed, I turn on my side, gather the pillow next to me in my hands, and scream into it.
For good measure, I scream a second time, adding a litany of curse words to the end of it.
My mom wouldn’t be proud, but she’ll never know that I tossed my swear jar in the trash when I started working for Dominick so I wouldn’t go broke.