“Go through this a lot?” he asked.
“Yes, but usually at home. If I can’t get Bruno to cooperate, then the sitter takes over. He’s a vet student and the only other person who can handle the tantrums.”
“Bruno.” He chuckled. “Suits him perfectly. We can let this sit while we air out the smell. Where’s his leash?”
“In my tote bag,” I said cautiously. “Why? We already went for a walk this morning.”
“We could all use some fresh air.” He got hand sanitizer from his desk. “I’ll call janitorial to come get the trash while we’re out.”
“We?”
“Yeah.” He squirted enough goop in his palm to sanitize a small child, then rubbed his hands together. “Bruno’s not the only one who needs morning Zen.”
“And you think we’ll find that downstairs, blocks from one of the world’s top tourist destinations?” I asked, cringing at just the idea of the crowds clogging Times Square.
“I know we will.” He went through my “Dogs are Good, but Danes are Great” tote bag. Bruno jumped to his feet and ran over, whining and wagging his tail as Sebastian hooked the leash onto his collar. “Bruno and I are going to de-stress. You coming?”
“De-stress? What happened to anthropomorphizing?”
“Have it your way. We’ll see you when we get back.”
Walking Bruno could be a dangerous endeavor. Nobody ever did it except me, Luciano, or Bruno’s sitters. He wasn’t some easily controlled lap dog—he’d been through several rounds of behavioral training but could pull me across a sidewalk in a flash. Especially when there was a female dog involved.
Because sadly, Bruno played right in to Luciano’s theory—he loved bitches.
I got off the floor. No way was I letting them go alone. Bruno needed me, almost as much as I needed him.
And though neither of us needed Sebastian, in that moment, I had to admit—I was glad he was there.
11
Georgina
With Bruno’s leash in hand, Sebastian opened the door to our office, stuck his head out, and looked left to right.
“Maybe I should take his leash,” I said. “He can be a handful.”
“I’ve got him, and you’re only allowed to come with us if you promise to relax.”
“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms as I waited behind them. “What are you doing?”
“Checking that the coast is clear.”
“I already approved this with Vance.”
“It’s not Vance you need to worry about,” Sebastian said. “It’s Scaredy-Cat Jones.”
I took a wild guess. “Justin?”
“He’s scared of dogs. And heights. And women’s shoes. And intimacy. The guy’s a real piece of work. We keep the floor pet-free so we don’t have to deal with more of his neuroses.”
“He’ll change his tune when he meets Bruno.”
Sebastian looked back at me. “Considering this dog would come up to Justin’s stomach, I don’t think so. Can Bruno army crawl?”
“Uh . . . not on command.”
“Never mind. Flank Bruno’s other side, and let’s go.” Sebastian strode out of the office. I scurried to keep up in four-inch heels, shielding Bruno from the left as we wound through the cubicles. “We’re good,” Sebastian said, easing up when we reached the elevators. “Justin must be on the shitter.”
“Is everything about pooping with you two?”
Sebastian punched the call button. “Everybody does it, Georgina. Don’t be a prude.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal Justin with a box of Dunkin’ Donuts. “They were out of jelly,” he started, “so I got us extra glaze—”
Bruno, most likely having caught a whiff of the pastries, bounded into the elevator and leapt for the box, ripping the leash from Sebastian’s hand.
Justin stumbled back against a wall. “Monster!”
I jolted forward, but my heel caught on the carpet, and I face-planted into Sebastian’s back. He didn’t budge an inch, but spun around and grabbed my arm. “Whoa—”
“My heel, it’s stuck,” I rushed out as an apology. “I can’t get it—” Reflexively, I kicked my foot to free myself.
Justin had abandoned the box of donuts and was trying to escape as my shoe, stiletto up, flew into the elevator. He threw his hands over his face and ducked into a corner as the heel narrowly missed his head. “What’s happening?” Justin asked as Bruno licked his face. “Is this hell?”
My heart hammered, both from my near fall, and because Sebastian’s big, stupid hand felt so good around my bicep. “Are you okay?” I asked Justin.
“He’s fine,” Sebastian said, releasing me to grab Bruno’s collar. He pulled him off Justin and passed me the leash. “The dog’s friendly.”
Justin peeked out from behind his arms to glare at me. “What are you, some kind of high-class assassin?” he asked me. “You almost killed me with a Jimmy Choo.”
“Justin, take your fucking donuts and get out of here,” Sebastian said, stooping to pick up my shoe.
“How am I the one getting yelled at?” he asked, side-eyeing the dog as he scraped the fallen donuts back into the box.
“You’re a drama queen,” Sebastian said. “It was about time you faced your fears.”
Justin maneuvered by us, gripping the crumpled box as sweat dotted his temples. “You think I’m cured now?” he mumbled on his way to the office. “That only made things worse.”
I hobbled onto the elevator with Bruno as Sebastian held out my Choo to keep the doors open. I traded the leash for it and angled to slip it back on. Without thinking, I steadied myself on Sebastian’s bicep. As if the muscle wasn’t hard enough to jar me into realizing what I’d done, an electric jolt spurred me to jerk my hand back and grab the elevator railing instead.
“Need help, Cinderella?” Sebastian asked, looking amused as he hit the button for the lobby.
“I’m fine.” I straightened my shoulders. “What’s Justin’s shoe thing about?”
“He’s been nailed by one before.” Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Incidentally, it was also Jimmy Choo.”
“That’s some bad luck.”
Sebastian nodded gravely. “If you hear him tell the story, he almost lost an eye.”
I started to laugh. Sebastian also gave in to a deep chuckle. “Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked.
“Because you brought your sick dog onto the battlefield,” he deadpanned, as if I should know what that meant.
The elevator stopped at a floor, and I moved closer to Sebastian and Bruno as people boarded. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s like when you’re gaming at a friend’s house, and his mom comes in with snacks while you’re talking shit. I have no choice but to lower my weapons and be nice.”
“So I wasn’t that far off base with the whole basement-dwelling nerd on a headset.”
Sebastian ruffled the top of Bruno’s head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I smiled to myself as the elevator opened and we passed through the lobby. Sebastian nodded at one of the security guards. “I can’t believe you let this one in the building,” he said, thumbing over his shoulder at me.
“Sorry, Mr. Quinn,” he said. “She said he was an emotional support dog.”
“Emotional support,” Sebastian said under his breath as he glanced back at me.
I shrugged and tried to look sheepish. “A white lie that doesn’t hurt anyone. Except Justin.”
Sebastian shook his head and turned back to security. “I wasn’t talking about the dog. I mean the Yankees fan.”
“Oh-ho-ho,” the guard said, slapping his forehead. “I had no idea, or I would’ve turned her away.”
Since we’d just lost four games in a row against the Sox, I couldn’t even retort. “It’s not enough that we’re giving it up to you on a regular basis?” I asked. “What are you traitors even doing in New York?”