I bit back a laugh.
Me: Me?
Reed: You can be whatever you want with me.
Me: I don’t think I know how. To be bad, I mean.
Reed didn’t respond right away, and I panicked I’d said the wrong thing. I felt exposed and vulnerable even though Reed wasn’t even in the same country. What was he thinking? I saw Giles look my way, and I straightened, pretending to listen to the rules on modern encroachment and setbacks. I studied the past, the art and the buildings. While it was important to maintain what was so dear to me, the English legalese was something I could easily tune out.
Reed: Excuse yourself from the meeting and go to the ladies room.
I glanced up, looked at the eight other people in the room, all intently listening to the discussion.
Me: What?
Reed: You’re a PhD. I know you can read. Go.
I sat there for a moment, stunned. Should I do as Reed said? Why did he want me to go to the ladies’ room? I took a moment, realized no one knew about my conversation. A wicked thrill shot through me. Reed made me curious, made me feel a little wicked.
I pushed back my chair and stood, quietly excusing myself. I went out into the hall and passed the nearest ladies’ room and entered the one at the far end of the hall.
Me: OK
When the phone vibrated again, it wasn’t to signal another text, but a call from Reed. I fumbled to answer, then lifted it to my ear. “Hi.”
“What’s the matter?”
I leaned against the wall. “What do you mean?”
The bathroom hadn’t been modernized in decades, the sink and stalls straight from the fifties. The ancient radiator pumped out heat and made the small space dry and stuffy.
“I know you didn’t text to tell me you’re saying yes to my offer for dinner. What’s going on, princess?”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Because in comparison to me, you’re a princess.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
Yeah, I grew up with money, but that was it. I wasn’t spoiled. I certainly wasn’t coddled or protected.
“Then tell me something.” His words were even, as if he hadn’t heard the defensive tone in my reply.
I sighed. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
I didn’t reply. Was he joking?
“I mean it.”
“Why?” I turned sideways and pressed my shoulder against the wall as I held the phone to my ear.
“Why?” he repeated.
“Why do you want to know everything about me?”
He sighed. “I have no fucking idea. I just do. I want to know what’s inside your head.”