Chapter 35: The Swedish Bartender Lie

AVA

Ella asked me more and more questions, which buried me deeper and deeper in my lie.

I made up an elaborate story about my rendezvous with Theo, a Swedish bartender who worked in the next town over.

I’d just been passing through on my way to pick up a side table I’d seen on the website of a local thrift store.

Cyrus had let go of every attempt to look busy. He was still leaning on the counter at the water station, fully invested in the story.

He shot me an impressed look every time I added another unnecessary detail to the story.

“You took home a bartender?” Tobias’s voice was dripping with disdain.

“I didn’t take him home. We stayed ~right there.~” I enjoyed the shocked expression on his face.

“You let him fuck you at a ~bar~?” Tobias spat and stepped closer to me.

I took a step back and narrowed my eyes at him. “I didn’t let him~ fuck me~, Tobias. What the hell?”

“Sounds to me like you momentarily forgot how to keep your legs together.” His eyes were uncharacteristically malicious.

My jaw dropped.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” August sounded just as shocked as I felt.

“I don’t know, seems a little promiscuous to go around fucking randos while making other people take you on dates.”

“Are you…~jealous~?” I asked.

Tobias’s eyes were shooting daggers at me. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off by a deep, dark voice booming from behind him.

“Take a walk and cool off, Wilson,” Cyrus said lowly, “before you say something you’ll regret.”

Tobias shrunk a little. “I was just—”

“~Now.~” Cyrus’s face was darkening by the second.

Tobias shrugged and walked away, mumbling something under his breath.

“Are you okay, Ms. Mayweather?” Cyrus asked.

I nodded. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Brentstone.”

Cyrus nodded back and walked off. August, Ella, and I finished our coffee in silence.

“Tobias is a real dickhead sometimes,” August said eventually. “I’m glad you had fun this weekend, Ava.”

I smiled at him. “Thanks, Gus.”

We all went to our offices, and I was able to focus surprisingly well.

I could ignore Cyrus walking by my office for the most part—although he did seem to walk by particularly often today—and even finished some projects I’d been working on for a while.

Toward the end of the day, my computer chimed to notify me of a new message. It was an email.

I clicked on it, and my heart sank as I saw the name on my screen: Roald Brentstone. The email was a single sentence: ~Come meet me at my office, straight away.~

I looked over at Cyrus’s office, but his door was closed. I contemplated telling him about the email, but I decided against it. It might not be the best idea to get him angry at work.

I got up and walked out of the office and into the bank of elevators. I went up to the top floor. I’d never been up there. Hell, I’d never even been above the twelfth level.

The doors rolled open, and I stepped into a brightly lit room, which was closed off by stone walls on all sides, very unlike publishing, which was mostly surrounded by glass.

There was a desk across the room, staffed by a lady typing away at her computer.

“Eh, hi. I’m here to see Mr. Brentstone. ~Senior.~”

“Ms. Mayweather?” the lady said without looking up.

“Yes.”

She pointed me toward one of the doors. I walked over and hesitantly knocked.

“Yes,” Roald’s voice called out, sending shivers down my spine.

I instantly regretted not having informed Cyrus of my visit here. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

“You wanted to see me?”

Roald looked up at me and gestured toward the chair in front of him. I sat down reluctantly. He folded his arms, leaned back in his seat, and looked me up and down.

“I have to apologize for my behavior last night.”

I stared at him. “It’s water under the bridge.”

A grin spread over Roald’s face. “It’s nothing against you personally, sweetheart. But with a last name like ours, you just have to look out for…vultures.”

“I understand.”

Roald narrowed his eyes at me before donning a plastic smile.

“I wouldn’t blame you, you know. Money could fix a lot of your problems. You probably left your life without a dollar to your name. You must be struggling to pay off your student loans, right, sweetheart?”

“Is there a point to this meeting?” I looked over my shoulder at the door.

“And then you just ~happen~ to run into Cyrus Brentstone, the only single Brentstone left, and there’s your golden ticket.”

“He ran into me, actually.”

“Potayto, potahto.” Roald waved his hand dismissively. “You seduce him, get him to marry you, and away go your problems. You finish what you started in Seattle.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “I didn’t ~start~ anything in Seattle. Have you forgotten what I told you yesterday? And besides, we literally ~just~ started dating. There is no talk of marriage.”

Roald got up and walked over to a cabinet behind him and pulled out a crystal decanter of amber-colored liquor and two matching tumblers.

“Care for a drink, sweetheart?” He poured himself a glass.

“I don’t drink,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“Oh, that’s right. Well, don’t mind if I do.” He brought the glass up to his lips and took a long swig.

He sat back down and sighed. “Well, I’m sure it won’t be long until he gets down on one knee for you. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.”

I straightened my shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I’d be lucky if Cyrus felt even a tenth of the amount of what I feel for him.”

“Well”—he circled his middle finger over the rim of the tumbler like he had last night—“you sure are committed to your act.”

I scoffed. “Have you lost all hope in love? Who hurt you so badly? Dominic seems to have found a wonderful love in Gabby. And I thought you and Eleanor had a beautiful love as well.”

“Don’t mention her,” he hissed.

I pushed back my chair and got up. “If that’s all, I have a job to get back to.”

“Actually, there’s one more thing I’d like to discuss.” Roald gestured at the chair again.

“It’s 4:50. I’d like to go home on time today.”

He smiled at me. “I’ll be quick.”

“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What is it?”

Roald poured himself another drink. “How much would it take for you to disappear out of his life?”

My jaw dropped. “Excuse you?!” I was too stunned to care about who I was talking to.

“Everyone has a number, sweetheart. What’s yours?”

I turned around and walked to the door, though I paused before opening it.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. Can you really not see how happy we are? If we do end up getting married, I’ll happily sign a prenup. And I’d also make sure you’re not invited to the wedding.

“Unlike you, I’d love your son if all he had were the clothes on his back.”

I opened the door and walked out.

“We’ll see about that,” I heard Roald say right before the door fell shut behind me.