“He was putting other people’s drinks on my tab.” “My drinks!” She gestures to herself. I frown. “Yeah, so—” “So we’re sleeping together!” she interrupts. “A month ago you fired that Belgian man who tried to make me pay for drinks!” I give her a look because it’s not the same thing. “Yeah, but that’s because you’re my—” I stop short. Fuck. Her eyebrows shoot up, instantly drunk with power. “I’m your what?” I shift on my feet, folding my arms over my chest. I think I feel my face falter. She’s my what? I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.
such a confusing man
