“Sydney.” Robert answers on the second ring. He says my name as if he expected me to call and is delighted to be so damn right all the damn time.
“Robert,” I say.
I’m alone in the living room of my suite—standing in front of the window, looking out at the ocean. A half moon hangs like a wide grin in the sky, casting its silver glow onto the ocean below.
“How are you?” he asks.
“Fine, I made it to the island.”
“Hello Dan,” Robert says, his voice amused. “I saw Consuela this morning, she’s working with Senator Jackson now. She seemed well.”
“Robert,” I say, my tone warning.
“What?” he asks, feigning innocence.
“You know what.”
“I’m sure he is missing his woman. I am missing my wife.” I pace away from the window and my dogs move with me. “Do you miss me?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave, into something deeper that seems to settle inside of me.
“In a way, yes,” I answer.
“Come home, then.”
“You’re in DC?”
“I am now, but we could meet anywhere you want. We can make any place in the world our home.” He says it so casually, as if he truly is the master of the universe.
“Will you tell me why you’re buying up cryptocurrency?”
His laughter is quiet and intimate in my ear. I pace back to the window. “Of course, over dinner. Where should we meet?”
“You won’t tell me over the phone?”
He tuts softly. “I want it to be a surprise. A wedding gift.”
“Are you…” I take a breath, steadying myself. “Are you burning it down?”
“Sydney, join me in Tokyo. Or we could meet in Bora Bora—anywhere in the world.” Bora Bora isn’t far. “I’ll tell you anything you want, over dinner.”
“Fine,” I answer. Blue’s nose swipes my fingers and I rest my palm on his head. “But I’m not sleeping with you.”
He does the intimate laugh again. “I’ll send you the hotel details. Can you leave tomorrow afternoon?”
I worry my lower lip for a moment. “Yes, but what about you? It’s far,” I finally answer.
“I’ll leave in an hour.”
“How can you…did you expect this?” I ask.
“I’m always prepared, Sydney.”
“You are…”
“Wonderful, I know.” He says it with a tone of teasing but I’m pretty sure he believes it. “I love you, Sydney.” I can’t say it back to him. The words are stuck in my throat—held there by a preservation instinct I don’t even try to fight. “Good night.”
He hangs up and I lower the phone from my face, my gaze stuck on the moon’s reflection glittering on the dark water. I am not going to sleep with him.
Blue whines as if he can hear my thoughts and doesn’t believe me. Fuck.