There was a pile of paperwork waiting on her desk, but Eve just couldn’t bring herself to care. Contracts, tenants’ applications, contractors’ bills, clients’ demands…she could not care less about any of it. It wasn’t that she wasn’t trying. She tried very hard to reconcile her old lifestyle with who she had become after her brief but eventful encounter with the Diamondbacks.
Her experience with the motorcycle club had given her a glimpse into a raw, unforgiving world where real things mattered. Where problems were actual problems. Where emotions mattered in their rawest, most unabashed state. Where formalities were a surplus and manners were a waste of time. Where survival wasn’t a given and instincts were skills to be developed and not nuisances to be suppressed. Ironically, for all of its violence and danger, the world of the Diamondbacks was a lot purer and more honest than the corporate, high-end world Eve came from.
And then there was Lind. Eve also tried very hard not to think about him, but not a day went by that he didn’t enter her mind. Most nights she was in his arms, their bodies entangled. It had been four months, one week, and two days since she had seen him last. (But who was counting?) That was a lot of unbidden thoughts and wet dreams.
From time to time Eve would entertain the thought of going back to her secret nighttime life. She would toy with the idea of driving over to the Cobra to ask Gary for her old dancing job back. She knew it was not possible; too much had happened. She could probably find another nightclub if she really wanted to, but the thought of starting her transgressions from scratch somewhere else was simply too exhausting a prospect.
So, Eve stayed put and tried to fit back into a life that did not fit her anymore—if it ever had—and she tried not to think about Lind.
She jumped when there was a sudden knock at the door. Eve sat up straight and tried to appear like she was doing something other than daydreaming about a world that, while it could be found just on the outskirts of town, may as well have been thousands of miles away.
“Come in,” she called, grabbing a pen and the first sheet of paper from the pile and doing her best to look like she had been pouring over it.
She tensed as soon as the door opened and the man walked in, her stomach tightening in an all-too-familiar knot of apprehension. It wasn’t that Mr. Wilson was a bad boss—in fact, he was an excellent one. It was that he had begun to notice Eve’s struggle, and he had let her know in no uncertain terms that he didn’t like it. Eve also tried very hard not to let the man down, but it was proving more and more difficult to do. Her head just wasn’t in it, and her heart…well, her heart was on the outskirts of town, with Lind.
“Mr. Wilson,” she said, pasting a smile onto her face that did not even begin to reach the eyes. “What can I do for you?”
As Eve knew him, Bob Wilson was a polite gentleman whose gallant ways seemed to come from another era. However, he could be stern and was known for not beating around the bush. There was a serious expression on his face, as he took a seat on the chair across from Eve’s desk. His gray eyes bore into her.
“You could try showing up for open houses.”
Eve looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“The Millers’ duplex?”
Shit. “That was today?” Eve blurted out before she had the chance to think of any damage control options.
Mr. Wilson’s eyes flashed. “Yes, Miss Robinson,” he said in a too-calm, too-controlled voice, “that was today.”
Eve felt mortified. Her brain had been utterly scattered lately, and nothing she did seemed to help with that. She took a deep breath. She couldn’t panic now.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Wilson,” she said, calmly but sincerely. “I really have no excuse.”
“No,” he said coolly. “You really don’t.” He paused. “You know, Miss Robinson, you really are starting to make me regret having kept your job for you.”
Eve cringed. It had been relatively easy to get her position back after she had gone M.I.A. for almost a month while she helped Lind and the Diamondbacks discover who had attempted to gun down their leader one night at the nightclub. The MC had phoned her work for her and made up some personal emergency story that she wasn’t quite clear on. She had come back to find that her job at the luxury real estate agency was still waiting for her. She strongly suspected her father had a hand in that, just like he’d had a hand in getting her the job in the first place. Bob Wilson was a real estate agent who started out small, creating a modest agency that later went on to become a real estate empire in upper Los Angeles. Harold Robinson had been his financial advisor since he had expanded. Eve knew the only reason why she had not yet been fired was out of Mr. Wilson’s courtesy for her father, but she had the feeling that it was about to end.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I know I have been very off my game lately.”
For all of his gentlemanly nature, Mr. Wilson snorted. “I’ll say.”
“Give me one more chance,” she heard herself say. “I’ll make up for everything; you have my word.”
Mr. Wilson’s eyes searched her carefully. At sixty-five years old, Bob Wilson had seen and heard it all, and he was very savvy at detecting lies. But something in Eve’s expression must have convinced him of her good intentions, because he heaved a sigh and sat back.
“Fine,” he said. “One chance. But if you mess up one more time, I’ll have no choice.”
Eve nodded. “Understood,” she said. “Thank you.”
Mr. Wilson nodded curtly and stood, smoothing out his ice-gray suit. “You’d best go home now. It’s getting late, and I want you well-rested and sharp tomorrow.”
Eve nodded again. “I’ll just reply to a few e-mails, and then I’ll be out of here.”
“Good. Have a good night, Miss Robinson.”
“You, too, Mr. Wilson.”
Eve watched him leave her office. As soon as the door clicked close behind him, she slumped back against her chair, blowing out a sharp puff of air in frustration. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she had just begged to keep a job she hated.