Chapter 54
Adam hung up on Claire without saying anything. I forced myself to focus on my pasta.
After dinner, I started clearing the plates. Adam stood and collected the takeout containers without asking.
"You don't have to—" I started.
"I know." He brushed past me toward the kitchen. "But I'm going to anyway."
Fine. Whatever.
I tied up the trash bag and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Adam appeared in the hallway, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
"Downstairs. To throw this out."
"I'll come with you."
I didn't wait for him. I was already out the door, pulling on my jacket.
But Adam followed anyway. His footsteps echoed in the stairwell behind me. When I reached the landing, he took the trash bag from my hand.
---
Five years ago, we used to do this together.
Back in Cleveland, I'd rented a tiny one-bedroom apartment near the operations center. Adam spent most nights there. He said he was crashing at a relative's place and didn't want me to feel uncomfortable visiting.
What a load of shit that was.
He probably lived in some penthouse with marble countertops and a doorman. But I was too naive to question it.
We'd cook dinner together. Afterward, he'd grab the trash and pull me along to the dumpster outside. It was stupid and domestic and I loved every second of it.
---
We stepped outside into the cold October night. The wind cut through my jacket. I hugged my arms to my chest.
Adam's free hand slid around my shoulders, pulling me close.
I shoved him away. "Don't touch me."
He wasn't expecting it. He stumbled back half a step, and the phone in his other hand—the one not holding the trash bag—went flying.
Clack.
The sound of expensive glass meeting concrete echoed in the empty parking lot.
I froze.
Adam bent down and picked up his phone. The screen was shattered—spiderweb cracks spreading from the center like a broken windshield.
"Shit," I whispered. "Is it... is it broken?"
"Yeah." His tone was flat.
"I didn't mean to—" My stomach twisted. "I'll pay to get it fixed. A new screen should be fine, right?"
Adam looked up at me. His eyes were unreadable.
"Maya, do you know how much this phone costs?"
My throat tightened. "How much?"
"Eighteen thousand dollars."
What?
"Eighteen thousand?!" I gaped at him. "For a phone?"
"It's custom. Limited edition."
I swallowed hard. Eighteen thousand dollars. That was more than I'd saved in the past two years. That could cover a down payment on a car. Or six months of rent.
"I'll... I'll get it fixed," I said quickly. "I promise."
Adam tossed the trash bag into the dumpster and turned back to me.
"I don't want it fixed."
"Why not?"
"I don't use phones that have been dropped."
I stared at him. "You're kidding."
"Do I look like I'm kidding?"
"That's—" I bit back the words. "That's a stupid rule."
Adam raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
"Yes!" My voice rose. "You can't just throw away an eighteen-thousand-dollar phone because it fell on the ground once. That's wasteful!"
"Then maybe you should think of a way to compensate me."
Oh, hell no.
"Are you seriously trying to shake me down right now?" I demanded.
"You broke my phone. That's a fact."
He slid the shattered phone into his pocket, then looped an arm around my shoulders again.
This time, I was too distracted to push him away. My brain was spinning in circles, trying to figure out how I was going to come up with eighteen thousand dollars.
"Adam, listen," I said as we walked back toward the building. "I'll pay to fix it. It'll look brand new. You won't even notice the difference. Please don't make me pay the full price."
He didn't answer.
My pulse hammered in my ears. "You're really going to make me pay?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you're willing to negotiate."
I narrowed my eyes. "What kind of negotiation?"
We started climbing the stairs back to my floor.
"Be my girlfriend. And we'll call it even."
I stopped mid-step. What?
"Are you out of your mind?"
"I'm serious."
"No." I shook my head and kept climbing. "Absolutely not. That's not—no."
Adam followed, his footsteps echoing behind me. "Why not?"
"Because that's insane, Adam." I reached the landing and turned to face him. "You want me to be your girlfriend in exchange for not making me pay eighteen thousand dollars? That's literally manipulation."
I turned and kept walking up the stairs. "Adam, I'm going to find a lawyer and let them deal with this. I'm sure a judge will agree that the most I owe you is the cost of a repair."
"Smart." He smiled.
We reached my floor. I fumbled for my keys. "Goodnight, Adam."
"Wait."
I unlocked the door and tried to close it behind me.
Adam's hand shot out, catching the edge of the door.
"What are you doing?" I demanded.
"I need to come in."
"No, you don't."
He leaned closer. "My phone's broken, Maya. What if someone needs to reach me? What if there's an emergency?"
Are you serious right now?
"You can wait at your own place," I said through gritted teeth.
"My place is too far. I could miss something important."
"Then buy a new phone."
"At this hour?" He glanced at his watch. "Stores are closed. And it's your fault my phone's broken. So you're responsible."
I took a deep breath. Do not strangle him. Do not strangle him.
"Fine," I snapped. "Come in, Your Highness."
I stepped aside. Adam walked past me, his hand brushing my shoulder as he passed.
He crouched down and picked up the men's slippers sitting by the door—right next to my fuzzy gold ones.
He slid them on like he belonged here. Like we were a couple. Like this was normal.
Then he bent down and nudged the gold slippers toward my feet.
"You should put these on," he said. "The floor's cold."
I kicked off my shoes and shoved my feet into the slippers. "I don't need you to tell me when my feet are cold."
"Noted." He straightened and grinned.
I turned and stormed toward my bedroom.
Adam followed.
"Where do you think you're going?" I whirled around.
"Your room." He glanced past me. "It smells like you in here. I like it."
My face went hot. "Get out."
"Why? We've shared a bed before."
"That was five years ago!" I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. "Things are different now!"
He caught the pillow easily. "Are they?"
"Yes!" I pointed at the door. "Out. Now."
His phone buzzed.
Adam pulled the shattered device from his pocket. The screen flickered to life—cracks and all.
He glanced at me, then turned and walked out of the room.
I grabbed my pajamas and locked myself in the bathroom.