That bastard knew what he was doing.
“Why don’t you come upstairs and we can talk about it,” I tell her, opening the door.
“Would love to,” she says, sashaying past me into the lobby. “I’ve never seen your place before.”
“It’s not as flashy as Marco’s,” I warn her as we walk to the elevator. The building itself is modern, though it matches the surrounding buildings seamlessly. Marco’s place is by the river, all glass and steel, and way too big for him, but that’s the way he rolls. I’m the one with all the money, the one who pays his salary, but he likes to live like it’s the other way around.
“That’s fine with me,” she says as we step inside the elevator. “I always feel like I’m going to break one of his priceless statues. You know, I like a place where you can fuck against the wall and not worry that a million-dollar painting won’t smash to the floor.”
I stare at her, brows raised.
“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “I guess it’s weird to hear me talking about sex with your brother.”
“Yes. Just a little.”
Fucking hell.
We get off on the top floor and walk down the hall to my apartment at the end. It may not be as big and flashy as my brother’s, but it still takes over half the floor.
I open the door and she walks in, looking impressed.
“Wow,” she says, going over to the glass doors that open to the balcony, a view that looks down on the leafy trees lining Avenida da Liberdade and the spire of Marquês de Pombal. “I have to say, I might like this view more. You can feel the beat of the city here.”
I close the door and she turns around, pointing at her black t-shirt with white writing on it. I’ve been trying my best not to read it since it would look like I’m staring at her breasts, which is also hard not to do.
“Snacks happen,” I read her shirt out loud.
She grins at me. “You got any?”
I blink. “Snacks?”
“Yup. I’m starving.”
I feel like I’m getting whiplash with our conversations.
I go into the kitchen and open the fridge, wondering what she’d want to eat. I stick to a very strict diet, even more so since I’ve been injured since I don’t want to put on any weight when I can’t work out like a beast like I normally do.
“Carrot sticks?” I ask, showing her the bag.
“That’s boring,” she says.
“Too bad,” I tell her, closing the fridge and tossing the bag at her. “Boring is all I have.”
She catches it with ease. “You don’t need boring, Luciano, because you’re not boring.” She pauses, a wicked smile coming over her lips. “Don’t you ever want to say fuck it and do something bad?”
A scene of us together, naked, me fucking her against the wall, flashes into my brain without warning and I actually have to avert my eyes away from her for a moment.
I exhale slowly through my nose. “Bad like what?”
“Eat some McDonald’s or something. I mean, no offense, but fuck these carrot sticks.”
“I’ll try not to be offended,” I tell her. I walk over to the kitchen island and pull out a chair, sitting down. I need to get my head on straight. “Why don’t you sit down and eat your carrot sticks and we’ll talk.”
She raises one brow for a moment and then comes over, sitting across from me. “What’s up?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Do you remember why I invited you up here?”
“It sure as hell wasn’t for carrot sticks.”
“No, it wasn’t. Ruby, can I ask you a question?”
“Always.”
“Why would you be interested in being my personal assistant?” I don’t want to throw Marco under the bus and tell her he made up this job, but at the same time we need to be on the same page. And I need to know just what’s going on with her.
“Because Marco said you needed help. And I like you and I want to help you.”
I give her a quick smile. “He may have misspoken.”
“So you don’t need help?”
I suck on my teeth for a moment and move the conversation in another direction. “Why didn’t you go with Marco to Paris?”
The easy, bright look in her eyes dims a little. She frowns. “Oh. I wasn’t invited.”
“I thought you were. When we went out for dinner last week, he was talking about it like you were going.”
“Yeah,” she says slowly, looking away. She tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear, where rows and rows of earrings sparkle. “That’s what I thought too but I guess I was mistaken. Or something. It’s a guy’s trip, so I get it. We’ve only been dating for a month, so that’s moving pretty fast.”
“Do you mind me asking what your plan is?”
Her eyes widen as she looks up at me. “My plan?”
“With Marco? Do you plan on staying in Lisbon for your full three months?”
She nods quickly. “Yes. Why? Do you think that’s stupid?”
My chin jerks into my chest in surprise. “Do I think that’s stupid? What does it matter what I think?”
“Your opinion matters to me. It matters to Marco, too.”
I give her a dismissive wave. “No. This has nothing to do with me or my opinion. This is your relationship. I was just curious.”
She looks down at her chipped nail polish. “Yeah. Well, I don’t know what the answer is.”
“I have another intrusive question for you, then.”
“Yeah?” she says, wincing slightly.
“How much money do you have saved?”
If she winced before, now she’s full-on flinching. “Ouch.”
“That bad?”
“I don’t want to say…”
“You think I’m going to judge you?”
She stares at me for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she studies me. Then she shakes her head. “No. I trust you. I have less than a grand left. Maybe five hundred. I’m scared to check my
