Sex, Lies and the CEO

Jennifer pursed her lips together. “Maybe he is.”

Darci angled for the kitchen area of the open-concept space. A sloped wall of glass stretched up beside her, overlooking the distant Chicago skyline. Skylights decorated the high ceiling, while two lofts bracketed either end of the spacious, rectangular room.

The phone rang again, vibrating inside her pocket.

“Give it back,” said Jennifer, following behind.

Darci rounded the end of the island counter. “What was it you said to me last night?”

“It could be a client.”

“What was it you said to me?”

“Darci.”

“If it’s a client, they’ll leave a message.”

It was nearly seven o’clock on a Tuesday night. Though Darci and Jennifer prided themselves on being easily available to clients of their web-design business, it wouldn’t kill them to miss one call.

“What kind of customer service is that?”

Darci pulled the phone out of her pocket to check the display. “It’s him.” She declined the call and tucked the phone away.

“Something could be wrong,” said Jennifer, taking another step.

Darci couldn’t help but smile at that. “Of course something’s wrong. He only just realized you were serious.”

On the counter, she located a packing box labeled “wine rack” and peeled it open. She’d wisely packed the corkscrew with the wine bottles for easy access after the move. Now, if she could only remember which carton held the glasses.

She pointed at another box on the island. “Check the white one.”

“You can’t hold my phone hostage.”

“Sure I can. You made me swear I would.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“No backsies.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You said, and I quote, don’t ever let me talk to that son-of-a-bitch again. I think the wineglasses are in the white box.”

Jennifer clamped her jaw.

Giving up, Darci reached out and pulled the carton closer to her, stripping off the wide packing tape. “He cheated on you, Jen.”

“He was drunk.”

“He’s going to get drunk again, and he’s going to cheat on you again. You don’t even know if that was the first time.”

“I’m pretty sure—”

“Pretty sure? Listen to yourself. You need to be 100 percent positive he never has and never will, or else you have to walk.”

“You are so idealistic.”

“Aha.” Darci had located the wineglasses. She extracted a pair of them and turned to the sink to give them a rinse.

“Nobody can ever know for sure,” said Jennifer.

“Are you listening to yourself?”

There was a long silence before Jennifer spoke. “I’m trying hard not to.”

Darci grinned as she shook water droplets from the wet glasses. “There you go. Welcome back, girl.”

She turned back to the breakfast bar, and Jennifer slid up onto one of the counter stools. “He’s just so...”

“Self-centered?”

“I was thinking hot.” Jennifer absently bent back the flaps of the cardboard box closest to her.

“There has to be more to a man than buff pecs and a tight butt.”

Jennifer gave a shrug as she peered into the depths of the box.

“Tell me I’m right,” said Darci.

“You’re right.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

Jennifer drew a heavy sigh and extracted a stack of old photo albums, setting them on the countertop. “I mean it. Can I have my phone back?”

“No. But you can have a big glass of this ten-dollar merlot.”

The two women had consumed plenty of cheap wine together. They’d been best friends since high school and had both won scholarships to Columbia, in graphic design. They’d roomed together for four years, sharing opinions, jokes and secrets.

Darci would trust Jennifer with her life, but not with Ashton Watson.

Her best friend had a weak spot when it came to the smooth-talking charmer. She’d dumped him three times in the past four months, but each time he’d waxed eloquent, swearing he’d be more thoughtful, less self-centered. And each time, she’d taken him back.

Darci wasn’t about to let it happen again. The man had no clue how to be in a couple.

Jennifer extracted three thick manila envelopes from a box in front of her and set them beside the photo albums. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Yes, you are.” Darci pushed one of the glasses across the wide counter.