Chapter Eleven

Eleven

W hen my boss sees that my boyfriend is Erik Storm, his eyes widen. Then he hugs Erik, claps his back, laughs out loud, and says, "Storm, I can't believe it! How are you? It's so good to see you again!"

They chat excitedly in the foyer. Meanwhile, I stand near the door, clutching my purse in front of my body, smiling like a goth-chic Latina Barbie in a black long-sleeve dress and black tights. An elegant middle-aged woman wearing a beige knitted dress approaches me, and I shake her hand.

"Hi, I'm Lotte, Lars's wife." She smiles kindly, long earrings dangling and shining with a tiny green gem that matches her eyes.

"I'm Sol. Nice to meet you!"

We look at Lars and Erik, both still laughing like two old friends who haven't seen each other in years. Considering Erik's responses whenever I mentioned Lars, I could never have imagined he was so loved by his former boss. I haven't seen Lars have such an effusive reaction to anyone before. And Erik...he's behaving like he loves the man back.

Well, it's good for our act, I guess.

Lars finally turns around and sees me with his wife. While Erik says hi to her, Lars walks over to me.

"Sol, it's great that you came. And holy moly! Erik Storm? Why didn't you tell me?"

I smile weakly, and Erik comes to my side, putting an arm around my shoulders. A shiver runs down my spine the second I feel his warm, massive body touch mine.

"It's all a bit new to us," he answers, which is good, because I've totally lost focus, my mind only understanding one situation: Erik's arm around me. "We wanted the right occasion to tell you guys."

"I can't wait to hear the story." Lars chuckles to himself. "Come in!"

Lars and Lotte enter their vast living room, and Erik and I stay behind to take off our shoes and hang our jackets. It's a relief when he steps away from me, but at the same time, the absence of his warm body next to mine makes me shiver, feeling suddenly cold.

"What was all that about?" I whisper to him as I unzip my boots.

"What do you mean?" he whispers back, looking distracted. A cacophony of voices comes from the living room. We arrived five minutes before seven, but it seems like others were even earlier.

"His euphoria for seeing you," I explain.

Erik smiles shyly. "It's nothing. That's how Lars is."

I'm not convinced, but Erik doesn't wait for me to say more. He leaves his shoes next to mine and starts walking toward the next room. I catch up with him and hold his hand. We look at each other, and my heart rate increases. His palm is sweaty against mine. Warm. Soft. It's... weird to hold hands with him. Good. In a strange, delightful way.

"Ready?" I whisper under my breath.

He nods.

Smiling, we walk to the sofas, where we are met with loud, excited greetings.

"Unbelievable, isn't it?" Lars says, and many people stand up at the same time.

George is the first to embrace us, and we are introduced to his boyfriend, Alex. Then Chiara and her girlfriend, Anika, give us handshakes. Chiara started at Scorpio after Erik left, so she doesn't know him. Astrid gives us each a brief hug, saying that it's good to see Erik again. Simon claps Erik's back with enthusiasm and says he misses him.

We meet Simon's wife, Lia, a petite Portuguese woman who greets me with an "olá." As we are still standing in the middle of the room—me asking Lia in Portuguese which city she is from—Ellen arrives with her husband, Mads. She lifts her arms, crying Erik's name wholeheartedly. It takes her a moment to understand that he came as my boyfriend, not a special guest.

"Oh, wow!" she says after we have been introduced to her husband. "This is wild!" She puts one hand on my shoulder and one on Erik's. "How did this happen?"

"I'm also eager to hear!" Lars says.

Thankfully, his wife chooses this moment to call everyone to the table, which is already set with the quiz game, drinks, and snacks. They had warned us to get dinner before, as we would go straight to the game.

When everyone is settled around the table, I start to think Martin won't come. It's ten past seven. He is late. I hold back a smile of triumph.

Then he arrives.

The door is unlocked, so he walks in, announcing himself from the foyer.

It takes Martin a moment to notice Erik's presence. He is heading toward his seat next to Astrid when his eyes land on his former business partner.

"Erik?" Martin opens his mouth in surprise, and Erik stands up. The chatter continues around the table. I'm the only one aware of the tension, it seems. They stare at each other, for an instant completely still. I look from one to the other, waiting for a reaction, so nervous I start biting my nails, something I've never done before.

They hug, at last, a bit awkwardly, and I exhale.

"Long time, no see!" Martin has a strange smile on his face. "What are you doing here?" He takes a seat, and Erik sits next to me. I put a comforting hand on his leg under the table, doing what a girlfriend would do and realize too late that no one can see my gesture. I remove my hand, blushing.

"He is Sol's boyfriend," Lars says as if he still finds it utterly amusing—and wonderful.

"What? Oh! Wow."

People laugh at his reaction, and the murmur around the table grows louder.

"And the two of you know each other too?" Lars talks to Erik and Martin. According to what Erik told me, Martin got a job at Scorpio after he left.

"Yes, we have worked together," Erik says, and I look at him, concerned. He keeps a smile on his face that might deceive the others, but not me. I'm aware of the turmoil going on inside him.

"Hmm. Small world." Lars smiles, sipping his wine. Martin clearly omitted his experience working with Erik from his résumé and neglected to mention it in his job interview at Scorpio. "And what are you doing at the moment, Erik?" Lars asks him.

I hold Erik's hand on the table to show him my support. I've thrown him in the lion's den, after all.

"I'm working on a personal project." He squeezes my hand, making butterflies dance in my stomach.

This disorients me. I keep my hand where it is, but it takes all my focus to tell my body to stop reacting to Erik's touch. This is fake, okay? Fake! I shout at my hormones.

"Oh, is it the same project you left Scorpio to work on?" Lars asks, then quickly adds, "You never told me anything about it. You'll have to fill me in later, Storm." He points at Erik with a piece of dark chocolate. "Now let us understand—" Lars's resonant voice sounds higher than the others "—how did the two of you meet?"

The moment has come. I squeeze Erik's hand harder, relieving my anxiety. Silence has fallen upon the table, all faces directed at us, dying to hear our story.

I'm opening my mouth to start, but Erik gives my hand two quick squeezes before letting go of it and taking the lead. "Okay, okay, here's what happened," he starts, and I lean back in my chair, focusing on my breathing to not freak out. "Sol got my number one day when she was talking to Mark about needing a room—"

"Oh, he told me," Simon interrupts him.

"Did you find a place, Sol?" Chiara asks. We haven't talked about that at work since I got Erik's number. Chiara's eyes then grow wider, and she opens her mouth with understanding. "Or...are the two of you living together now?"

"Yes, we are," I say with a shy smile, and the reactions to this make me want to disappear under the table. Everyone is surprised and thinks it's funny, but Martin's exclamation is what gets me. And Erik. Especially Erik.

"You get a roommate and immediately start dating her, Erik?"

It's supposed to be a fun, teasing comment. But they are not intimate enough for this. It's a provocation, and only I realize it because I know their history, even though I don't know the whole story.

The look on Erik's face after what Martin says makes me think he will throw in the towel and end our charade right here. It angers him. It hurts him. But maybe that's precisely the boost he needs. More fuel for his burning wish to take down his rival.

"Here is where it gets funny," Erik says, concealing his true feelings so well he easily passes as a carefree extrovert sharing an entertaining story. "Sol and I had met before."

I try not to frown to avoid giving us away, but I'm wary. Why is he changing the story we rehearsed?

"We actually met through Cinder." He smiles, anticipating the amused reactions. "I didn't have my last name there, and my photo was terrible, so old I was barely recognizable."

"You looked like a bedraggled surfer," I comment to add more credibility, and some people titter.

Simon agrees it's time Erik updates his profile photo, which he uses on all his social media accounts.

"And yet, you gave me a like," Erik remarks, undisturbed.

"I was bored that day," I tease, and the others laugh at our playful exchange.

"Anyway, we started talking, and we kept chatting on the app for a long time without ever going out. For months...since, what? June?"

"June thirteenth," I make up a date. "Thank you for forgetting it."

"I will count our anniversaries from the day you moved in."

"That's inaccurate."

Lars is laughing fondly at us as he drinks his wine, but he interrupts our banter to ask me, "If you had his number, how did you not know it was him renting out the room?"

Erik is the one who answers. "We only talked on Cinder. Sol was Marisol Carvalho in the app. I don't know why, but I didn't connect the names." He taps his forehead with the palm of his hand, reproaching himself. "When she texted me about the apartment, I had no clue it was her, and she had no clue it was me because we hadn't even heard each other's voices before. And, you know, there are a lot of people called Erik in Copenhagen."

I serve wine for both of us, as I see that he needs a dose of alcohol to handle staying in character. After a long sip, Erik continues, "We scheduled a date one day, finally. We had an instant connection..."

Erik drinks up, and I refill his glass. Everyone sees he is preparing to enter an uncomfortably personal part of the story. I hope he stops here. We've said enough.

"She went home with me that night..." He lifts one eyebrow when looking at me, and I hide my face behind my hands. Is he seriously going to tell my coworkers details of a sexy night that never happened? I'm faking embarrassment for the sake of entertainment, but I actually don't want my colleagues picturing me in bed with Erik Storm. I need to make him shut up.

"I think they don't need to hear more, Erik..." I try, but he ignores my appeal.

"Let them hear the finale, honey." He strokes my hand, making me breathless.

Goodness. What is happening? Why is he saying these things and smirking in that tricky way? Why is my body so... excited when my mind is on full red alert?

"The day after," he begins, "I was supposed to have a final call with the woman who wanted the room. So, there we are, in my bed at ten in the morning." He gesticulates with his glass, the wine shaking inside. His face is flushed, his eyes energized. It's as if something had possessed him—the spirit of a party animal not afraid to share anything with a group of friends.

I shrink in my seat, my stomach tight with fear and other obscure things.

"Sol goes out of the room to make a call," he continues. "Two seconds later, my phone rings on my night table."

Everyone laughs, some clapping or saying, "Oh my God, what a coincidence!"

Erik nods, enjoying the comments. "Isn't it? Then we laughed about it and concluded that we should go ahead with the rental. It was destiny, after all."

He looks at me with admiration, the sweet scent of grapes and alcohol exhaling from his mouth, which is too close to mine.

And getting closer.

Oh, my God of Thunder.

His lips reach mine.

He kisses me.

It lasts one second.

One second in which I feel a soft pressure on my mouth and forget I'm angry at him for changing our story without telling me.

One second in which my skin tingles and prickles in a thousand different spots.

One second when the butterflies return with full power, lifting my stomach as if I've jumped off a cliff.

I don't have time to react. To grab his neck and hold him there longer. It's a stolen kiss. Fleeting and breathtaking, the aftermath more powerful than the brief instant our lips connected.

Because the feelings linger. And they get more overwhelming as I think about what happened.

My heart pounds against my ribs as Erik sits straight in his chair again. I don't hear what is happening around me. The noises at the table are like the humming of static from an old television. Erik is deliberately not looking at me; he's talking to others, drinking, and eating chips.

He can't simply kiss me and ignore me after. He can't make up that stupid story we didn't agree on and talk about us sleeping together with my coworkers without my authorization. Who does he think he is? And I'm sure he didn't just make that up on the go. Who can do that? No...he rehearsed it in his head before we came. He hated my version and betrayed me instead of telling me what he thought would work better.

And then he kissed me.

I excuse myself to go to the toilet, and Lars tells me I should use the bathroom upstairs because the tap is broken in the one downstairs. I climb to the second floor, glad to be away from the noisy party. It's a big house. I might even be able to make a call and not be heard.

I'm thinking of calling Larissa to seek her advice when I hear footsteps climbing the stairs. I turn around and see Erik on the landing. He gently pushes me inside the bathroom and locks the door.

I turn to face him with my heart in my throat. He is so handsome this evening. He has trimmed his beard because I asked him if he could. And gosh , he looks hot, wearing a gray button-down shirt I ironed for him, with his hair neatly brushed back and curled in a bun, his jaw even more defined now with only a thin layer of smooth beard covering it. He is no longer a shabby Viking.

He is the sexiest man on Earth.

I swallow hard, cursing my thoughts. He comes closer, the smell of wine reaching me before his face is inches away from mine. I battle the urge to shout at him and the wish to pull him in for a kiss. A proper one.

Everything is exploding inside of me like fireworks, and I try to control myself one breath at a time.

"Sorry about what happened back there," he mutters, his deep voice sounding even more hoarse when he speaks so low. Two of his buttons are open, and I feel like closing them...

Or ripping the rest open.

Jeez. I need to sleep with someone soon. Not Erik. One little kiss and a few hand touches, and that's how you react, stupid body? Don't you communicate with my brain? With my memories? The ones where Erik says that nothing real will ever happen between us? Did you forget you live with this man, and you will never have peace in your own home if something does happen?

"Why did you change the story and not tell me?" I try to look harsh. My heart is beating so loud I'm afraid he might hear it.

"I panicked, okay? Sorry." His face looks about as innocent as the devil's would—and God, it's sexy.

I take a deep breath to control my riot of emotions. "You've been rehearsing this new version." I won't let this go. When my annoyance is gone, I don't know what will be left, and I'm afraid to find out.

"What makes you say that?"

"Come on, Erik. We don't trick each other ," I stress the last two words. Transparency has been our deal from the start.

"Fine, I hated your version. I thought we wouldn't need to use it, that we could just say something vague and lead the conversation elsewhere." He gazes toward the mirror, avoiding me. "I was still working on the story in my head and hating every version I made too. So I had to improvise."

"After Martin was an ass."

Erik chuckles. "Yes." A lopsided grin grows across his face and does strange things to my insides. "This is the closest to an insult I've heard coming out of your mouth. What's up with you and swearing?"

"I don't swear." I shrug, keeping my face serious. He's trying to distract me. Make me forget the kiss.

"Like you don't do drugs." He is looking at me once again, the grin still there, reminding me of things we discussed on our long bike ride.

"Yes. Like I rescue whales, donate blood, and plant trees. I'm a saint."

Erik gives a repressed laugh, his sweet breath tickling my face. He is tilting his head down to stare into my eyes, as he is almost a head taller than me.

"We should get back downstairs," he says.

I won't mention the kiss. It's better this way. It was convincing. He is dedicated to his role. Good. It was very good. For the act.

"Don't let Martin get to you, okay?" Oh no, I'm being sweet now.

Erik blinks at me and I notice a glint of vulnerability in his eyes. It's like he needed to hear my words. I swallow hard, and we stare at each other for an uncomfortable moment.

Until I can't stand it anymore and point a finger at his face to say, "And no more surprises, eh?"

"Yes, ma'am."

He turns around and unlocks the bathroom door.