“It just happened, in Bear Mountain. Don’t lecture me, I know how stupid it is.”
“Well damn.” Priya holds up her hotdog in defense. “No judgment, just… damn.”
“And please, Libby can’t know because her vulture of a magazine will totally include it. I can just see the headline: Wolfe Slumming It With Regular Chick.”
“So have you…?”
“Yes.” I blush, unusually embarrassed. “And it’s pretty hot.”
Priya smirks, eyebrows raised. “Pretty hot?”
“Mind-blowing. Life-changing. Ruined me for other men. That better?”
Priya grins, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “I never thought you had it in you. A secret fling with JP Wolfe, this is the juiciest gossip I’ve heard in ages.”
“And there’s the problem.” I sigh, fiddling with the sleeve of my coat. “I think I’m actually falling for the bastard. He even cooked me dinner last weekend.”
“Wait, the guy cooked for you?” She blinks in surprise.
“Last Saturday night. I fibbed; I didn’t go see the new Spiderman. I was with JP, having the night of my life.”
The smile slips from Priya’s face and she’s quiet for a moment. “Please, be cautious around Wolfe.”
I sigh, poking at the remains of my hot dog bun. “I get it.”
Priya shakes her head, her dark eyes serious. “No, you really don’t. There’s… potentially some legal stuff going on with Wolfe right now. He’s trying to keep it out of the press.”
My stomach lurches. “Can you tell me what it is?”
“I can’t. And you can’t ask him either.” Priya gives me a pointed look. “I’m telling you this because I love you and don’t want you to get hurt. Just remember that there’s always more beneath the surface with men like Wolfe.”
Men like Wolfe. A brooding man with dark eyes and a short fuse who, by his own admittance, has made lots of mistakes.
I sink my teeth into the soft bun, the sweet tang of the ketchup mixing with the sharp onions and smoky hot dog. Stress eating.
Priya’s right. My gut feeling was always there. But sometimes the heart wants what it wants, logic be damned.
I swallow my mouthful. “He asked me to go to a comic convention with him in Boston next week.”
Priya stares at me for a beat before bursting into laughter. “A comic convention? The man must really like you to subject himself to that.”
The absurd thought that has been pestering me ever since JP suggested the comic convention crawls to the surface, refusing to stay buried. “You’re going to think I’ve lost it but what if JP is actually… Daredevil?”
“The guy you made out with at the comic convention?”
“Yeah.” I instantly regret voicing my ridiculous theory.
Priya knits her brows together, her gaze clouding with concern. “You think something went down between the two of you before your accident? But why wouldn’t he tell you?”
I gnaw on my lower lip, chest tight with anxiety. “It’s a stretch, I know.”
She smirks. “Like some Clark Kent double life thing? So Wolfe’s strutting around in suits with a Daredevil costume underneath?”
“It feels like he does. But I dunno, it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility. Now I know he’s into me enough to take me to bed. Should I ask him or does that make me sound crazy?”
“Look, if he is your mystery man, tread lightly, Luce. Because that would mean he’s lying to you for some reason. That’s so manipulative.”
“Like what?”
“Maybe something happened, like you found out he had a few women on the side and that’s why you were upset. Now he’s using your memory loss to reel you back in.”
I think back to how he was the one with me when I fell on the stairs at the Plaza.
I scoff, a pathetic attempt at bravado. “Please, I’m not that good in the sack that he’d go to such effort. It’s hardly the highlight of his year. Plus, he seems pretty genuine. I don’t think he’d play games like that.”
Priya’s expression remains skeptical. “Just watch yourself with him. These billionaire playboy types are usually total jerks.”
I laugh. “Oh yeah? You know a ton of ’em?”
She grins. “A couple we’ve worked with, yeah.”
We carry on with our casual stroll through the lush greens of Central Park, the weight on my chest feeling slightly lighter after sharing my ludicrous theory with Priya. But I’m still miles away from making heads or tails of any of this.
We part ways at the entrance.
“I’ve got a night out with the law crew,” Priya says. “What’re you up to tonight?”
“Spider’s moving out, so I’ll probably just curl up with a book.” I smile. The simple life. My poor overwhelmed brain needs it.
“Not seeing your superhero?” Priya teases, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me.”
“No, he’s busy tonight, doing admin stuff.”
“Admin?” Priya scoffs. “What kind of billionaire does admin on a Saturday night?”
I shrug, getting defensive. “He’s pretty down-to-earth.”
“Mm-hmm.” Her tone says it all. Priya kisses me goodbye, throwing one last warning look over her shoulder.
I roll my eyes, feigning indifference.
As I stroll down Fifth Avenue, Priya’s words swirl in my mind. A down-to-earth billionaire doing admin on a Saturday night? It does sound sketchy.
I suddenly remember I left my Kindle charger in the apartment I stayed in opposite JP’s. I’ve been meaning to get it back, and I’ll need it if I want to read tonight.
And spying on Mr. Billionaire is purely coincidental, obviously. I just can’t run into him. The last thing I need is for him to think I’ve turned into a bunny boiler.
An hour later, I’m creeping down the hallway past JP’s place, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. There’s the faint hum of his music playlist, a telltale sign he’s home. A knot of anxious energy forms in my stomach.
Why did I think this was a good idea again? I should just leave the damn charger, to hell with needing it.
Mission: Retrieve the charger. Operation: Swift exit. Now that I’m here, I’m too chicken-shit to play private detective and snoop on what JP classifies as “admin.”
I slide the key in, wincing as it clicks loudly in the silence. With bated breath, I creak the door open, expecting a dozen alarm bells to blare at any moment.
Nothing. I exhale and slip inside, gently closing it behind me. So far, so good.
For a moment, I’m dazzled by the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Manhattan stretches out before me, glittering like a sea of precious stones, stretching as far as the eye can see.
If this were my place, I could happily spend all weekend here, sipping tea and staring at the view. The questions plaguing me, the mysteries swirling around the man across the hall, they all seem distant for a second.
But reality soon snaps back-this isn’t my home, and now that Spider is gone, I should hand JP back his key.
But first… I might as well read here for a while.
I get lost in my book for the better part of an hour. Books are one thing I can rely on during memory loss because they don’t hold back from me or lie to me. If only there was a book on my missing year.
It would be 365 Days MIA, and it would be anything but a steamy romance.
The setting sun peeking through the towering skyscrapers snaps me back to the present.
Time to execute phase two.
I hastily gather my forgotten Kindle charger and the toiletries I left behind in my hurried departure that morning after I stayed here. The fear of running into JP had driven me out at dawn.
Then, cutting through the silence like a shard of glass, the elevator dings. There are only three apartments on this floor. Are they coming here? To JP?
Clutching my bag like a life raft, I edge to the door and listen, every nerve alert.
Footsteps come closer, louder.
A knock on JP’s door. A pause. And then another knock, more assertive this time. I find myself holding my breath, my pulse racing a mile a minute.
“Hey.” JP’s voice filters through the door, deep and gruff. The sound of it makes my heart pound even harder.