“Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I want to know.”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You know everything. You probably have a file on me thicker than my arm. You’ve seen me naked. You’ve been inside me. And while you did correct me about Rico, you didn’t correct the part where I said you didn’t care about my answer. So what else could you possibly need to know?”
“Whether youlike me. And I didn’t correct you because… well…”
“Because you don’t care, Giovanni.”
“Yeah, but… there are…nuancesto that.”
She laughs. Then sighs. Then runs a hand through her still-damp hair. “I don’t know you well enough to like you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
I move closer to her on the bed. Fighting the urge to pull her close. “I think you do like me. I think it terrifies you.”
“You thinkveryhighly of yourself.”
“I think you wouldn’t have fucked me if you didn’t like something about me.”
Her eyes narrow. “Sex isn’t always about liking someone.”
“No,” I agree. “Sometimes it’s about power. Sometimes it’s about money. Sometimes it’s about fear. Sometimes it’s just about loneliness. Which was it for you?”
She purses her lips as she stares into my eyes and once again, I’m transfixed by the pale desert I find in hers. “Maybe it was all of the above.”
“Or maybe you just like me despite yourself.”
“And what if I do?” Her voice is quiet but steady. “What difference would it make?”
“It would make me want to be someone you could like without reservation. It would make me want to remove these reservations from your thoughts. It would make me want to fix this… whateverthisis.”
The words hang between us. I hadn’t planned to say them. I hadn’t even known I was thinking them until they escaped.
She studies my face, looking for the lie, the angle, the manipulation. I keep my expression neutral, giving her nothing to find.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” she says finally.
“Why not?”
“Because you are who you are, Giovanni. And I am who I am.”
“And who exactly areyou, Emmaleen Rourke?”
She smiles, but it’s weary. “I’m the girl who’s trying to survive the next six days without hating myself when it’s over.”
“Are you looking forward to it being over?”
“I’m looking forward to the money.”
“You’re saying this to hurt me.”
“No,” she says quickly. “I’m saying this so I don’t get hurt.”
And then she turns her back to me, officially putting an end to her first day working for Giovanni Bavga, crime boss, control freak, and architect of a game she never wanted to play, but feels compelled to win, nonetheless.