Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1) - Page 102
“Dexie, that’s gorgeous.”
I like that she thinks so. She’s dressed in a low cut dress today that’s the same shade of red as the blouse and pants I’m wearing. The heels on her feet are a designer brand. She looks like she just stepped off a runway.
Her fashion sense is killer.
“Thank you.” I smile at the compliment. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Can I buy it?” She laughs. “Or one like it?”
“You want to buy one of my bags?”
“Or more,” she says tentatively. “Do you have a website? Is there a place where I can see what you have available?”
“My apartment.” I glance at the watch on my wrist. “I have a bit of time after work. We can meet there.”
She rubs her chin. “When are you done work?”
“An hour and a half from now.”
I’ve been staying late every night to avoid the windows in my apartment and the off chance that I might see Rocco. I need to leave my office at quitting time today. There’s somewhere I need to be at nine o’clock tonight.
“I’ll wait here.” She leans back in her chair. “Swing by and pick me up when you’re done for the day so I can go purse shopping.”
Chapter 56
Rocco
“It’s not a good time, Gina,” I say into my phone. “I’ve got a lot going on.”
“Like what?” she spits back.
“I can’t get into it now.” I point my hand toward the corner, directing my attention to the taxi driver. “Turn right up there. It’s faster.”
I lean back against the worn leather seat.
“Are you on your way home?” She questions, the sounds of the city behind her.
“Why?” I push back. “Who broke your heart today?”
“Meet me at the restaurant.”
“I can’t.” I curse under my breath when we slow in heavy traffic.
I’m on my way to my apartment, so I can shower, check in with Jared about a few pressing issues, and then round up some food to take back to the hospital.
“Meet me now,” she insists. “This is important.”
“Fine, Gina. I’m a block from there. I’ll see you soon.” Ending the call, I pull my wallet out of the pocket of my jeans and toss the driver a few bills. “Keep the change.”
Opening the car door, I slide out and weave my way through the traffic to the sidewalk.
I spot Gina as she rounds the corner with at least a half dozen brightly colored handbags in her hands.
I stalk toward her reaching out my hands to take some of the bags from her. I recognize them.
Dexie’s hands have touched them. Her careful attention has gone into every detail of the design of these handbags.
“Thank you,” Gina says breathlessly. “I went to your place, but obviously you weren’t there.”
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