“Oh yeah, your bag. I was wondering when you were gonna show up,” he chuckled, stopping a couple feet from her. Misch shifted from foot to foot.
“I needed it,” she replied.
Awk-fucking-ward.
“You ran away so quick the other morning. Did I scare you?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
“No.”
“Then you didn't come back for the bag, it's been a couple days.”
“Been busy.”
“Your vocabulary was a lot bigger the other night.”
“The vodka helped.”
Before they could go back and forth anymore, his afternoon delight made an appearance.
“Are we done?” the maid snapped, walking into the living room. She was wearing a cute uniform, a short dress, but almost all the buttons down the front were undone, revealing a racy red bra. Her hair was a messy bush around her head.
“Oh yeah,” Tal said in a low voice, his eyes never leaving Mischa's. “We're done.”
Misch swallowed thickly.
“But I wasn't finished!” the woman had a thick Italian accent, and she stomped over to Tal.
“I am,” he replied, then he ran his teeth over his bottom lip. His gaze was making Misch heat up. Sizzle. Catch fire.
“I have to go,” she said softly, hugging her bag tighter to her breasts.
“I don't think so,” Tal's voice was equally as soft.
“What is going on in here!?”
The voice behind them was shrill and Misch turned, stepping to the side as she did so. It was the housekeeping manager, and she looked pissed. She strode into the room and began yelling in Italian, steaming up to the maid. The younger woman held up her hands, gesturing at Tal. He turned towards both of them, and the manager shrieked, just then noticing his nudity.
What the fuck did I get into!?
Misch practically ran from the room, hurrying to the elevators. She pressed the down button, over and over again. Prayed for it to open up. Of course it didn't. Footsteps came down the hall behind her.
“Wait, wait, wait, no running away,” Tal sighed, then he grabbed her shoulder, slowly turning her around. He'd wrapped a towel around his waist, thank god.
“I'm not running away,” she said quickly. “I came for my purse. Now I'm going home.”
“Babe, I don't think you know what home is anymore,” he laughed. She glared at him.
“Don't be cute, we don't know each other well enough.”
“We know each other pretty well.”
The elevator pinged open and Misch hurried onto it.
“I'm sorry I interrupted you, back there,” she blurted out. Tal braced his hand against the door, keeping it open.
“Is that why you're upset?” he guessed. She snorted.
“I'm not upset. Really. Just … caught off guard. You can do any maid you want. I just don't particularly want to watch,” she even laughed as she said it. He smiled, and she felt warm inside.
He had a great smile, very wide, showing lots of teeth.
“Good to know. So when can I -,” but Tal was cut off, by the housekeeping manager screeching at him. He stepped away from the elevator, turned towards the commotion.
Saved.
The doors slid shut, and Misch was quick to hit the lobby button. Then she fell back against the wall, closing her eyes. Went over everything she'd just seen.
Tal was not her boyfriend. For god's sake, she was married. She had no claim on him, no ownership. In fact, she'd ditched him, after he had given her an amazing night. Had given her exactly what she'd been hoping for, and so much more. So his private life was his business, and absolutely none of hers.
But it still hadn't felt very good, watching him do to another woman what he'd been doing to her only a couple nights ago.
I deserved it.
As she walked down the street, Misch slid on a pair of sunglasses and slipped her purse strap over her shoulder. That was a chapter in her life that was closed. Thankfully. She wasn't cut out to be a cheating vixen. The persona hadn't suited her at all. Best to leave it back in that hotel room, with a man who was far sexier than Mischa would ever be.
Her back pocket began to vibrate. Misch grimaced; she'd been avoiding Mike's phone calls. She couldn't talk to him, not with her secret weighing down her soul. But when she pulled her phone out, it wasn't his number. It wasn't any number, technically. Just 0-0-0-0, scrolling across the screen. She frowned and brought the phone to her ear.
“This is Mischa Rapaport,” she answered in a brisk tone, sounding professional. Maybe it was her boss, calling from a local line.
“What's your maiden name?”
She stopped walking, completely shocked.
“How did you get my number!?” she asked, automatically glancing around her. Tal's deep voice chuckled in her ear.
“I'm a man of many talents,” he replied.
Not creepy at all …
“Did you go through my purse?” she demanded.
“Wouldn't dream of it. Besides, your number wasn't on anything that was in there,” he answered.
“What!?”
“When can I see you again?” he ignored her. Misch sighed and moved into a small alley.
“Look, Tal. I like you, and you did a really nice thing for me. But it can't happen again,” she told him, keeping her voice down.
“Why not?”
“Because I'm married. Because it was a mistake. Because I thought it would make me feel better, but I just feel worse,” she tried to explain.