Paper Trails 2 | Draft

26.

"It is a happiness to wonder. It is a happiness to dream."

*****

"I'm going to ask you something," I say, watching as he takes a drag from his cigarette. He looked damn good. He's wearing a dark blue suit, hair slicked back, gold watch on his wrist. Fancy, fancy, sexy, sexy. I bite down on my lip. "Don't get all annoyed and silent treatment-y."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.

Rolling my eyes and I draped myself across his lap and he huffs, adjusting himself so my elbow isn't pressed against his neck. He's been in a bad mood since this morning and I know it's work related, but he refuses to talk about it.

We're on his balcony, where he's got a whole damn black leather chair, and a fucking bar table. There's a black table next to us, too, and on it, a glass of scotch. It's fucking cold and I only have on a tank top and a long skirt, but whatever. He's in a pissy mood, and if I don't at least attempt to find out what's wrong, he'll stay that way.

"What." He finally looks at me, annoyance clear in his tone. I realized I didn't actually ask my question, and he'd been waiting for me to.

"What if I told you I wanted to be more involved in your...life?"

He exhaled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, less personal and pleasure...well maybe not less of that, but...more business?"

He squints and it takes him ten long seconds to finally respond. "I have no idea what you just said, Neila."

I sigh. "Bring your...whatever...to work day."

"My whatever?"

"Me, Niccolò. I'm your 'whatever'."

He blinks.

"My God, are you even—" I wave my hand in front of his face sarcastically. "Hello? Seriously, Nic, stop being stupid long enough for us to have a serious conversation, okay?"

He pushes me off of him and stands. "Neila—"

"Bring me to work. Show me your job. I wanna see what you do in person."

"It's not an office job, Neila." He scratches his jaw. Yawns.

"I'm aware. Okay." I snatch his cigarette and toss it over the balcony, ignoring his weak protest. "Let's take this slow so you can catch up. Those cigarettes are starting to fuck with you."

He glares at me. "You just had one."

"You're going like a pack a day, dude, don't even try to compare us. Besides, monkey see doesn't equal monkey do. Be yourself. Know yourself. Don't ever play yourself—"

He ran a hand down his face. "I'm running on two hours of sleep, Neila, if you could not ramble—"

"Shut up—"

"Jesus Christ—" he raised a hand to silence me, his other going into his pocket to fish out his phone. His eyes remain on me when he answers it. "What?"

I lean against the ledge.

He sobers up quickly. "No, of course. I can be there by tomorrow night.