“But does it actually matter?” Salome asked, her face scrunched in concentration as she slid wooden pieces from one side to the other on the board. “I mean. If this wasn’t your boss who you had a history with, would you be questioning this at all or just be happy you get this awesome opportunity to do a show as the main designer?”

“And to live in this pimpistic penthouse.” We all rolled our eyes at Tariq’s extreme enthusiasm for my new place.

I stewed for a bit weighing Salome’s answer and the truth was that if Theo hadn’t crashed into my party like the Kool-Aid Man I would be living my dream.

“I probably wouldn’t have, no.” I conceded, turning to Salome. “But it is him and I just don’t understand what he wants from me.”

“Has he done anything to make you feel like he has an ulterior motive?” Julia’s face hardened and she slid her legs of the ottoman like she was getting ready to go and kick Theo’s ass. “Because you know I’ll roll in Rocco’s truck ready to hide a body.”

I held up my hands when Salome echoed her willingness to commit murder for or with me. “Let’s not start making plans for felonious acts, all right? And no, he hasn’t done anything. Not really.” I mean he had joked about me being obsessed with his abs, which was not exactly a lie. But other than that, he’d been fine. More than fine—he’d been charming, and protective when Chase got out of hand. Hell, he’d been kind of sweet...never mind the flirting at the store. I got hot flashes just remembering the way he’d been looking at my ass. “I just don’t like being messed with and I don’t see how this could be anything other than that.”

“Maybe he wanted to do this for you. You worked for him for years, he must know how much your design work means to you.” Except he didn’t. I had never, not once talked to Theo about Bookish Boudoir. He’d never asked either. In the three years I worked for him the man never showed even an inkling of caring about my work outside of what I did for him. Which was why him knowing my music tastes made me feel crazy.

In the end, Salome was right—whatever his reasons were, it didn’t matter. He was here and I could either take advantage of it. Or I could sulk.

“I’m going to need to vent to y’all a lot over the next month,” I groused, slumping further on the chair. Julia gave me a sympathetic pat of the leg.