The Billionaire's Librarian Harem

Chapter 6: Rising Heat

REBECCA

The weekend goes by faster than I expect it to, but it's nice to get my mind off the library and the interaction I had with Violet and Ruby.

It's Sunday, and Mel and I are at the farmers' market on Seventy-Ninth Street. We've both got tote bags slung over our shoulders as we hop from stand to stand looking for groceries to make our dinner with tonight.

"So, anyways," Mel continues her story about last night's Tinder date, "we took it back to my place. All I gotta say is that I had to throw my sheets in the wash this morning."

Good for her. At least one of us is getting laid.

I pick up some collard greens from the table we're at, inspecting it for any flaws. "Do you think you'll see him again?"

She just snort-laughs and shakes her head. "C'mon, babes, you know me. It was not that type of date. That's not what Tinder's for."

Realistically, I know that most people—Mel included—are just using dating apps to get laid and not to, well, date. But there's a hopeless romantic part of me that just cannot divorce sex from intimacy. I'm glad it works for other people, but for me...it's hard to fathom.

"You know, Becca, you should try it sometime. I know dating apps aren't your style, but it wouldn't hurt to seek out some fun once in a while, yeah?" she suggests.

I shrug. "I don't know. Casual dating just isn't my thing. How do you keep the people straight, and how do you even fit into your schedule? The way you do it is a whole superpower."

"Yeah, I get it. You've always been routine-oriented. You're a one-person kind of girl, but again, it's an option if you ever feel like it. They have apps specifically for book lovers too, just FYI."

I laugh at her persistence. "I'll find pleasure in other ways, thank you very much."

"Speaking of things that bring you pleasure, how was your first day on the job?" Mel moves to the register to pay for the tomatoes she's picked up. I place my greens on the table too as the vendor takes our credit cards to swipe.

"It was strange, actually," I begin, brows furrowed. "I kind of have this...weird feeling. About the other librarians, I mean."

"What makes you say that?" Mel takes our cards from the vendor, who wishes us a good day. We stuff our produce into our bags and take off to the next stand.

"Well," I say, "I was trying to get to know them by asking them their fields of study...but they didn't seem to know a lot about actual library science. It seemed like they were beating around the bush, like my questions threw them off."

Mel purses her lips in thought. "Maybe they're better at all the filing stuff? Maybe they're not, like, big readers."

I scoff. "Maybe, but reading is the fundamental aspect of the job. I don't know if these people actually are librarians."

"All right, Becca. I'm saying this out of love, but you sound a little pretentious. Look, no one meets your high standards of being a librarian. There's no doubt in my mind that you're the most overqualified person in that library, but you also worked at the most distinguished library in the country right before this."

I know what she's saying kind of makes sense. But something's still bothering me.

I follow Mel over to a cider stand and watch as she tries samples, and then say, "But there's one more thing: there's a locked door in one of the corridors that I've been told, several times, that I'm not allowed into. It has some...erotic carvings on it."

Mel hands me a sample too, and I drink it down, the bubbles warming me.

She throws our cups away, then levels me with a look. "Okay, but what old building in New York doesn't have a weird, locked door? Remember when I went to that speakeasy in East Village? The one where I had to go through a phone booth?"