by Snow, Nicole
“And I suppose that’s the Phantom Roommate’s fault?”
“I don’t know who else’s fault it could be.” Paige laughs.
The hostess seats us by a window glazed with the recent February thaws and vengeful refreezes, leaving behind a basket of warm bread and olive oil.
I grab a piece, tear it in half, and stick the smaller half in my mouth.
“Oh my God, this is good.” The words are out of my mouth before I’m done chewing it.
“They’re starving you too?”
“Nah, dinner’s just usually the only real meal I have time to eat,” I tell her.
“Maybe you should talk to Maggot or at least HR about that. You should be able to eat, Brina.”
I grin. “Don’t call my boyfriend Maggot.”
“Boyfriend?” Paige’s jaw drops. “You mean you...and him...holy shit. So that’s why you haven’t been home? I should’ve guessed. You look different.”
“Different how?” I scan the dining room to make sure no one else is paying attention to us. “Lower your voice. It’s kind of a secret.”
“I don’t know. Your face looks like...someone who gets a lot of screaming orgasms?” She bats her eyes.
I give back a death glare, even if she’s right on the money.
Her face grows serious. From the furrow in her forehead, I know I’m not going to like what comes next. “He’s your secret boyfriend, though? Whose idea was that?”
The server comes to our table. Thank God.
I have a few seconds to form a response, but let’s be real, there’s only one that makes sense.
“What are we drinking today?” the server asks.
“San Pellegrino, please,” I say.
“Make it two,” Paige chimes in.
“I’m ready to order,” I say, buying precious time.
Paige picks up the menu and studies it.
“Do you have lunch right now or just brunch?” I ask.
“We have brunch and the lunch menu,” the waitress tells me.
“Fettuccini Alfredo with a Caesar side salad,” I say.
“I’ll do French toast with Italian cream,” Paige says, licking her chops.
“Perfect, I’ll be right back with the drinks.” The server walks away.
“Where were we? Oh yeah—whose idea was this secret tryst?” Paige asks again, not skipping a beat, leaning forward with her chin perched on her hands.
I purse my lips. “I—well, the relationship just happened.”
She nods. “Of course. You wanted him from the second you met.”
“Did not! I spit on him, Paige, remember?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Did your mama ever tap the enemies to lovers trope? That’s you and Mr. Sex-In-A-Suit. You hated each other’s guts and now you’re knocking boots. How’d you reel him in?”
I roll my eyes so hard it hurts.
“I didn’t seduce him in the office like a bad adult flick if that’s what you’re thinking. I played it cool. He actually pissed me off to the core for a long time after that Arizona kiss...”
“Dude. You have no cool.”
I laugh at her deadpan delivery.
“Okay, well, it just happened. Organically. We tried to keep apart, but it was magnetic...then this big crisis came up, the one I mentioned to you before, and after that...” I trail off, my mind reeling.
How do I even explain my whole universe shifting in just two months?
“Blah blah blah, crisis. And then?” Paige asks.
“And what?” I squint in confusion.
The waitress comes back and sets a bottle of sparkling water next to each of us, and this time, I really hope she’ll distract Paige. I’m done with the interrogation.
I can’t help thinking I’ve done something wrong.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“We’re good,” Paige says.
“Your food will be out shortly.” She moves to the table behind us.
“So you slept with him when he was all wounded beastie. That’s hot.” Damn. The girl has a mind like a steel trap. “Was it like, a one-time thing?”
I glare at her. “I wouldn’t have said boyfriend if it was a fling. Going to his place was all necessity, at first. He needed me.”
“What? That kid you mentioned?” Her eyes go wide.
“Yeah. Mag’s half brother’s mother was attacked. She’s been in ICU the whole time, in a coma. We’ve been taking care of his little brother, and I’ve been covering for him at work.”
“And covering his dick at home?”
I scowl at her.
“I mean, really. You take care of him at work and at home. I hope you’re getting paid double in more than just Romeo dick,” Paige says, her smile telling me her fantasies are off the hook.
“It’s not like that. He’s coming into the office most days now. He just leaves when Jordan gets out of school, which I understand. I only had to be him all day for about a week, and my salary is two hundred thousand dollars a year, so I’m okay with stepping up.”
“You’re basically living with the guy and taking care of his kid—”
“It’s not his kid,” I say. “And it’s temporary. His mom’s waking up at some point...so they say.”
A knot tightens in my stomach. Every week that passes without her snapping out of the coma worries us a little more, and worries the doctors, even if they don’t say it.
What if this is forever?
What if Marissa Quail never comes back?
“It might as well be,” Paige insists. “He feels responsible for the mess, so he brought his little brother home, and you’re taking care of him now. I hope the—” She notices people around us and stops mid-sentence. She forms an O with her right hand and pokes the index finger of her left hand into it several times. “I hope it’s worth it. Is he good?”
“Paige! That was so eighth grade.” And I should know because I live with an eighth grader. “Yes. Mind-blowing. Everything you can imagine and more—and you’re gonna be stuck imagining because a lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“Aw, you’re no fun.” She flicks her blond hair behind her ear as she scowls. “So, why the big secret, then? You two sound happy and right on track to wedding bells. Except for the coma thing, I mean.”
Her question hangs between us.
“You promise to keep a secret?” I put up a hand, waiting until she nods. “We have a plan. So, Jordan’s mom was an intern at the company a long time ago. It caused a huge scandal, and Mag had to rebuild everything. He wants to avoid future scandals and he’s a stickler for HR policies he helped design. Once Marissa, Jordan’s mom, wakes up from her coma, I’m going to move to a consulting role. I’ll no longer be his direct employee, and everything will be out in the open then. It’s getting serious.”
I think.
I hope it’s as serious as I want it to be.
“Wow,” she mouths silently, before her face shifts neutral. “Magnus Heron wants to avoid a scandal? Since when? He bats around the press like a cat with a mouse.”
“Yes,” I say. “But not this kind. He’s been seriously burned by his dad’s bad reputation and doesn’t want it happening again. Never, ever.”
She closes her eyes, lets out a breath, and blinks her eyes open.
“Paige? What’s wrong?”
“So, I really don’t want to be the one to do this, but it’s probably better you hear it from me...Brina, maybe you should go back and read that influencer’s posts online. Remember that whole big fake engagement lie? That was low. And dirty. And just plain wrong. Your Magnum man doesn’t really seem like the sorta guy who avoids scandal unless he has something to gain.”
My eyes dip to the table.
“Who knows,” I mutter.
Deep down, I think she’s wrong. I saw how hurt he was when he opened up about the past, about his abusive prick of a father leaving so much wreckage in his wake.
“Will you be ho
me tonight?” she asks, staring at me like a puppy.
“Not sure. I said I’d be back at his place later and...well, maybe I should at least talk to him about it.”
She shrugs. “I hope he’s honest.”
Our food comes. The fettuccine here has always been my fave, but her words won’t leave my head. Today’s scrumptious fettuccine is tainted by the ugly possibility that Paige could be right.
Mag did lie about being engaged for good PR.
Why did his fake fiancée, Mariska Crista, call him King Asshole after they parted ways? Was she that scorned, thinking it was real?
So many questions stab away like spinning knives.
For all I know, his interest in me could be a front for dealing with Jordan in the easiest way possible. It’s no secret I’ve gotten through the kid’s wall in ways he can’t.
But he kissed me in Phoenix before Jordan was an issue.
And then he told me to forget about it.
Shit, I’m confused.
“Are you okay?” Paige asks, frowning.
She can’t help but see the game of he loves me, he loves me not playing out in my eyes.
I look up, realizing I’ve been quiet for too long.
“You’re not talking, but you’re not eating much, Brina.”
I look down at my bowl. I’ve been swirling my fork around for a good while. I meet Paige’s eyes again. “I’m fine. I’m just not hungry.”
“I thought you were starving?” she asks.
It’s not argumentative at all, but worried, and it annoys me to no end.
“Is this about boss boyfriend?” she asks. This time, I let her have at her silly nicknames.
My phone vibrates loudly, saving me from having to answer.
Paige rolls her eyes. “Ignore it.”
Hugo’s name flashes across the screen.
“Can’t. It’s office stuff and Mag’s home with Jordan.”
I pick up the phone. “Yes?”
“Our airline exec wanted glossy brochures, but the image keeps pixelating on the gloss,” Hugo says. “Angie’s been trying to iron it out for hours.”
“Uhh—you can’t just fix it and reprint?” This is a junior level designer issue. Come on, Hugo, give me a break.
He sighs. “Changing the color scheme might do it, but they insisted on brand colors. Um, after the whole ‘art project’ debacle, Heron told me I’m not to communicate directly with customers. But our options are to change the color scheme or move to a non-gloss.”
“Hang tight. I’m on my way. I’ll see if I can tweak it with Angie,” I say.
Hugo grumbles into the phone. “I realize you’ve witnessed some misses with my work since we met, but I’m no puppy. You’re welcome to try, but I trust you’ll come to the same conclusion.”
“Pixelation is a resolution issue, not color scheme,” I tell him.
“Yes, and I’ve gone through six damn ink cartridges using higher resolutions. The color bleeds off the page with the high res image.”
I’m shocked, wrinkling my nose. Heron insists on the best of everything, and we don’t have a decent printer?
“We need a better printer,” I tell him.
“Custom orders for hardware like that can take weeks. So few people use print ads anymore. The boss felt we could get by with a medium line. Trouble is, the airline’s a flying dinosaur, and they still want non-digital marketing from the year 2000.”
I can’t disagree there.
“I’ll be there soon to make a decision.” I end the call and look at Paige. “Sorry, I’m going to have to cut this short.”
“Mag?”
“Nope. The company.”
“Same difference.” She looks hurt. “You need a ride?”
“Sure!”
We don’t talk much on the drive to HeronComm. Mostly because I’m on the phone with every stupid print shop in the city. I find one with super high quality printers and send Hugo to print the test piece there. If it passes quality assurance, we’ll do up everything there. It costs more, but the airline contract is so lucrative it hardly matters.
If that doesn’t work out, though...I’ll be contacting the airline CEO and eating crow.
When I end the call, we’re at the office. I thank her and reach for the door.
“No problem.” Her eyes connect with mine, her blond hair hanging loosely as she looks at me. There’s something on the tip of her tongue.
“Paige? What’s up?”
She grimaces, then gives me a strained smile. “I hope you come home tonight, Brina. Don’t let that rich boy use you or demand your whole life.”
“I’ll think about it.” I give her a quick hug, shut the door, and step on the sidewalk.
Then it happens.
A black cat darts between me and the door, no doubt a stray searching for warmth in the February cold. The little beast stops and stares me down with its back arched.
I stay stock-still. I’m in no mood to be clawed, let alone poisoned by bad luck, even if my rational side says I should call a shelter and get the animal picked up.
After a standoffish minute, he relaxes and trots off around the corner, into an alleyway before I can do anything.
Ugh.
Such bad luck.
Not what I need more of today.
I head into the lobby, thinking of Paige’s words. I could just ask Armstrong for a ride to my parents’ place later.
Magnus is expecting me, but I need to think about what Paige said.
I get that he wants to avoid conflicting interests and do things by the book.
But he’s Magnus freaking Heron.
If our relationship could close a deal—and it has with the airline—it wouldn’t be a secret.
My phone pings.
Mag: I haven’t heard from you the whole day. Is everything okay?
I ignore him and step into the elevator. I haven’t responded ten minutes later when my desk phone rings. Probably Hugo letting me know how the test turned out.
“Is it good?” I say as soon as I’ve picked up.
“Why are you at the office?” Mag snaps off.
“Oh. There was an issue with the airline brochures, but I think we’ve worked it out. How did you know I was here?”
He’s quiet for a minute.
“I checked the security cameras when I didn’t hear from you all day.”
“What? It hasn’t even been a whole day.” My phone buzzes. “That’s Hugo on the other line. I have to find out if the test piece worked.”
“For the brochure?” he asks, this growly doubt in his voice.
“Yes. If it didn’t, I have to go back to Arrowpoint with more options.”
“Armstrong’s on his way to pick you up. Why don’t you come over and fill me in on what went wrong? If the test piece isn’t up to snuff, I’ll call the CEO myself,” he says, trying so hard to brighten the mood.
Sigh.
My heart sinks. He knows something’s wrong, but I can’t even get a handle on what it is myself.
“Because you don’t think I can handle it?” I whisper, trying to sound bantery.
“Because I don’t think you should have to handle it, woman. You help creative, not fix their messes.”
He chuckles, a sound I love so much, and it makes me wonder if I’m being ridiculous.
“You gave me this project. If the CEO needs a call, it’s mine to make, isn’t it?” I bite my lip.
“Fair enough, but make it from here?” I can hear him smiling, genuinely wanting me back at his place.
Sweet Lord, what was I thinking?
This doesn’t sound like a man playing games, eager to smash up my heart. And good luck ignoring his magnetism.
Armstrong waits outside when I step out, as promised. I ride there in silence, staring out at the city lights, thinking of what Paige said. Don’t let that rich boy use you.
Is Mag using me?
As I lay my keycard on Mag’s door, my phone pings.
Hugo
: Test worked. Brochures will be printed and delivered to the office Monday afternoon.
A huge sigh of relief steams out of me.
Good. One less thing to worry about.
When I walk into the penthouse, Mag and Jordan are playing chess on the living room floor. Neither of them notice me, which gets a heaping smile.
It’s kind of adorable.
Mag has transformed, every part the doting big brother. My heart swells.
I don’t care what Paige says. I get why she wonders, why she’s looking out for me, but Magnus isn’t using me.
He may be ruthless in the boardroom, but he isn’t nefarious enough to keep our relationship a secret for the wrong reasons.
Those searing blue eyes look up from the game.
He’s wearing little spectacles, and it gives him this Professor McHottie vibe. My core tightens, already thinking about tonight.
A smile spreads across his face as he removes his glasses.
“Jordan likes chess,” he says. “I haven’t played for years.”
I come in and sit down on the couch. “Looks like you two are having fun.”
Jordan slides a Rook across the board.
“Checkmate. I win again,” he snickers.
Mag scowls. “I let you, of course. I’m not that rusty.”
“Right.” Jordan belts out a laugh, skimming his fingers through his wavy hair. “You said that the other three times, too.”
With a hapless grin, Mag joins me on the couch.
“The test piece worked out fine,” I say, holding up the new picture on my phone.
“Perfect.” He nods, but he looks at Jordan. “Go back to your video games, bud. I’ll clean up the board.”
“Thanks!” Jordan takes off to the back of the penthouse.
Those intense blue eyes land on me now. “I’m glad our little crisis was averted, but I’m worried about my girl.”
“Careful.” I smile. “You just called me yours.”
“Did I?” He quirks a knowing eyebrow.
“No take-backs.” I shake my head.
“What is this, middle school?” He chuckles, and once again, I’m falling a little harder for this man.
“Might be. Paige is stuck in eighth grade.”
“The sculptor friend. Is that what’s got you so riled up? She’s not making you a bas-relief, is she?” He pulls me into his lap. “You seemed upset earlier.”