Read Story: SEASON 2 EPISODE 142

Throwing it on, I approached Erin, who had been watching me interact with the girls as I’d gotten up. The look she gave me was thoughtful as she rested her head against one hand.

“Coffee?” She asked quietly, as I cinched the robe at my waist.

“Please,” I said, still keenly aware of the throbbing in my skull.

Erin set her phone down and poured me a cup while I scrubbed at my face and ran my fingers through my hair. By the time I was done, she was standing up with a fully-made cup and a pleased little smile. She handed it to me, glanced at the bed full of women, and jerked her head toward the door where I had a smaller receiving area. “Want to let them sleep a little longer?”

I followed her through the door into the sitting room, and Erin started to close the door behind me.

“Oh, wait,” I said, suddenly remembering that I hadn’t grabbed my phone.

“It’s over there,” Erin said, pointing to a table next to a chair.

Best assistant ever.

I sighed, dropped into the chair, and took a sip of the coffee, noting that it seemed to taste better than usual.

“Mm,” I said, glancing at Erin. “New beans?”

“Emiko found them,” Erin said, taking a chair opposite of me. I took a moment to appreciate how fucking sexy she looked in my shirt with those glasses. With her silver hair thrown up in a careless bun, she was every man’s wet dream.

Very aware that I was admiring her, Erin sat back in her chair, spread her legs a little more, and gave me her signature Cheshire grin.

“How long have you been up?” I asked, not bothering even to hide the fact that I was staring at her long, slender legs.

“An hour,” Erin said.

“Jesus, Erin,” I said, shaking my head. “How do you do it? It must have been around six in the morning when we all fell asleep.”

Erin shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. “I’m one of those lucky ones who only need roughly five hours of sleep.”

“Those people aren’t real,” I groused.

“Those people are rare,” she corrected. “I’m living proof. Most people need at least seven hours. There’s a tiny percentage of the population that can thrive on less.”

“Well,” I said, “Your math’s off. Three hours isn’t five.”

“I’ll probably sneak in a nap this afternoon,” Erin said. “I needed to take care of some stuff this morning, though.”

“Like what?”

“First off,” Erin said. “I looked through the news to see if Desai or Hiro decided to call your bluff and drop some major bomb on you. You’re in luck. All I found were crickets. No kidnapping of Ryo Tanaka… no ‘Marcus Upton is a war merchant’ or anything like that.”

I let my head fall back against the seat. “Good.

“Indeed,” Erin said. “Then, I got Bobbi to bed.” She cocked her head to the side. “Did Helen leave her there all night on purpose?”

I pressed my thumb and forefinger to my eyes and rubbed them. “Fuck… I don’t know if she did, but I wouldn’t have let her if I’d thought about it.” Looking back up at Erin, the stars in my eyes from the massaging began to clear. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Not very talkative and a little worse for wear… the Sybian wasn’t running. Helen must have had it set on a timer.”

“At least she’s not a total psychopath, then,” I said.

“Yeah,” Erin said. “She was asleep when I found her, but she looked grateful to see me, which is a first.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell Helen to leave her alone for a couple of days. She was being a bit of a brat to Natalie, but I don’t think she deserved anything like that.”

Erin smiled thoughtfully. “Getting a soft spot for her?”

My response was knee-jerk. “No! She still rubs me the wrong way. I don’t hate her like I once did, but that doesn’t mean that I like her or anything.”

“Mmhm,” Erin said.

I eyed her over my coffee cup, telegraphing my disapproval of her using that kind of disbelieving tone, suggesting that I was actually starting to like Bobbi.

“What else?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Phoebe left this morning about forty minutes ago,” Erin said.

“Oh…” I said, a little surprised. I thought I’d have a chance to say goodbye to her before she left.

“She wasn’t sure what Nate would have with him, so she wanted to buy him some new stuff. I sent a couple of the Johns with her and five thousand dollars in cash.”

“Cash?”

“No paper trail. Helen told me you guys agreed that she should keep a low profile.”

“Oh. Yeah. Good thinking.”

“Why the low profile?” Erin asked.

I gave her the Cliff’s Notes version of the conversation I had with Helen and Psalter last night.

“Ah,” Erin said. “You’re afraid of someone like Hiro or Tyler weaponizing Phoebe’s husband.”

“Exactly.”

“Why not just pay him off? What’s his name? Jim?”

“Yeah,” I said, considering the suggestion. “I mean… I guess I could, but Jim’s not exactly the most honorable guy. What keeps him from rolling over when someone just offers him more money? Besides, if it gets out that Jim did receive a suitcase full of cash, someone might put it together.”

Erin shrugged. “I guess it makes sense to keep her off the grid for a bit. Not a lot of people know about the Catskills spot, and I imagine very few would think to check there… not when they all have their eyes on you here.”

I nodded.

Erin stood up and approached me. “She seemed upset that she wouldn’t get to say goodbye to you. She told me to tell you, ‘thank you.’”

She bent over at the waist, putting her hands on my knees as she leaned in close. I felt my heart skip a beat as her face came within inches. Erin’s brown eyes flickered over my face, and then she husked, “She also told me to give you this…”

Leaning in the rest of the way, Erin’s lips brushed mine. The coffee on her breath was strong and warred with the typical flowery scent I’d come to associate with her. Her lips were free from lipstick—soft and moist as they closed on mine. Her mouth remained closed as she moved it against mine, only parting near the end so that I felt the briefest press of the tip of her tongue on my upper lip.

And then it was over. Erin pulled back just enough so that I could see her entire face. The pleased look on her face suggested I was a little dumbstruck at the implication.

“She…”

I cleared my throat, making her smile widen.

“She told you to give me that?”

“Just the thank you,” she flirted. “Trust me, though. Phoebe Lucas wanted to kiss you.”

Erin didn’t know just how right she probably was. I didn’t think she knew that Phoebe had kissed me in my old apartment… nor that we’d almost had a repeat performance in this very building the night we returned to New York.

“And the last bit of business,” Erin said, still hovering oh-so close to me, “You have two missed calls from Miss Natalie Bander.”

She stood up and took a step back as I lunged for my phone. “Wait… I do?”

“I answered the second call,” Erin said, “and told her you were busy in a meeting and that she should expect a call back from you after you’re done. That was about thirty minutes ago.”

“What did she want?”

“To talk to you,” Erin said, amused.