I wave her in.
Mara Kent is as sweet as pie. Too sweet. I’m pretty sure she’s afraid of her own shadow. As in, I have proof, I’ve seen her jump at it… But self-confidence aside, she’s damn good at her job.
“I’ve got to go, Dad. Give everyone a kiss from me and I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“If this guy doesn’t go with you, he’s an idiot—remember that. And don’t stay at work too late. A massive storm front is supposed to hit the city tonight. Don’t get caught in it.”
“Love you, too, old man.”
A bark of laughter is the last thing I hear before I end the call.
“What’s up?” I place my cell down, looking to Mara expectantly.
“Ari Hart is here.”
I stand up straighter. “What? He wasn’t supposed to be here for…” I check my watch. “Fuck!”
Grabbing my tablet off my desk, I readjust my skirt internally screaming. “Do I look presentable?”
Mara nods encouragingly. “You look great.”
Right answer.
I’m late, and not just by a few minutes. My conversation with my dad has pushed me well past fashionably late and directly into the line of arrogance. Fixing my appearance is a luxury I sure as shit can’t afford right now.
“Has he been waiting long?”
Her face goes red. “Umm… twenty-five minutes.”
“Jesus, Mara,” I scold. “You should’ve interrupted me.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “I thought your call was important.”
I roll my eyes. “You need to stop recoiling every time you think about my dad. He’s not that terrifying.”
I ignore the way her eyes widen in distrust. That single moment in time he barked at her for informing him I was unavailable forever tattooed in her memory.
I shoot from my office, Mara fast on my heels. The floor is eerily quiet—only a soft glow lights our way. Doors are closed; lights are switched off. The subtle hum of stillness filters through the space in a sleepy lullaby. The floor is deserted, save myself, Mara, and likely, a very pissed off A-lister.
Hart is in Seattle for the sole purpose of our meeting. In and out. He wanted no wasted time and that’s exactly what I’ve done—wasted his fucking time.
“Mr. Hart,” I greet as I storm through the boardroom door. “My apologies for keeping you waiting. I—”
“Look,” he interrupts, rubbing at his face in exhaustion. “I don’t need to be mollycoddled. I don’t need Shay’s assistants building my ego while he wastes my time.”
His eyes drag up and down my body in lazy appreciation as he speaks. It tracks along the tight fuchsia skirt stuck to my hips like a second skin, then moves to the firm fit of my black blouse. My long blond hair is pulled back in a severe ponytail, highlighting the cut of my cheekbones. Lipstick, similarly colored to my skirt, is painted across my now agape lips, shock having moved them into a blank pout.
“He held promise.” He settles on my eyes. “But seems he’s all froth and no beer.” He sighs in disappointment.
Aside from the fact that I have no fucking idea what he just said, I’m taken aback by the cut in his tone. That alone I could forgive; my tardiness warrants an attitude. But the assumption that Blake Shay, Publicist, was a male has steam pouring from my fucking ears.
Fucking. Asshat.
“Mr. Hart,” Mara says, but I lift a hand to silence her.
“He’s right, Mara.” I refuse to move my eyes from the asshole taking up too much space in my boardroom. “Please feel free to head off. I’ll keep Mr. Hart company while we wait for Mr. Shay.”
Her mouth opens to speak—but no doubt seeing the temperament in my posture, the gray storm of irritation and anger swirling inside me like a tornado—she thinks better of it.
Spinning on her booted foot, she makes her way toward the door.
“Don’t forget to lock up,” I sing out.
The soft click of the boardroom door drops like a pin on a tile—almost inaudible. It signifies something though. The fall of an ax in execution. As far as I’m concerned, this meeting is over. It has been since the moment he took one look at me and dismissed me based on gender. But he doesn’t know that, and one thing I’ve inherited from my father is the joy I feel at making people squirm.
Taking a seat at the opposite end of the expansive table, I rest one hand over the other, watching the prick candidly.
The quiet is deafening. A hollow drum of nothing in my ears. I swear I can hear buzzing, maybe an echo. I’m just not used to the sound of silence. At how intense the simplicity of it is.
The only thing loud enough to drown it out is expectation.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Settled back into my chair, I stare at the man before me. The man I held high hopes of impressing with my knowledge and experience. He would’ve been my crowning jewel. I would've finally etched out a name deep enough for all of Hollywood to take notice.
Instead, the man took one look at me and dismissed me because I was a woman.
Ari stares back at me, the bright blue of his eyes now shaded with uncertainty.
He shifts.
I remain still.
Checking his watch, he frowns.
Still, I only stare.
Motherfucker, I can wait you out.
He’s more attractive in real life than any magazine or editorial shoot could capture. Their constant need to smooth out blemishes and reverse the signs of age are only disadvantageous. Laugh lines crease into his face even in rest—a show of someone who smiles often, who enjoys the pleasures of life without apology. His dirty blond hair is long again, having grown out since his last movie. The thick mass is tied haphazardly atop of his head. The strong cut of his jaw is set roughly in dissatisfaction, an expression which, even though he’s a stranger, I know isn’t common for him. The lines around his eyes should make him look older; instead, they only add a layer of life experience that makes me want to dig deeper.
He sighs.
“Can I get you a coffee? Something to drink?” I smile sweetly, the tone of my voice anything but.
“A beer would be nice,” he mumbles, turning his head away to hide his smirk.
The thick twang of his accent would, under more pleasant circumstances, make me smile. Instead, my eyes narrow. He meant the off-handed comment as a joke, but if he wants to see me as a helpless assistant, who am I to deny him the experience?
I stand. “I’ll be right back.”
Mouth open, he attempts to speak, no doubt to tell me not to worry, but I give him my back before he can articulate a single word, cursing under my breath the entire way.
As I move back into the boardroom, he watches my approach, eyes narrowing in trepidation.
Placing the bottle carefully in front of him, I force a tight smile. “You’re welcome,” I murmur before he can make use of his own manners.
He waits until I’ve settled back into my seat before speaking. “I’ve been thinking while you stepped out,” he starts, lifting the bottle of his beer to touch it against his lips. He pauses to swallow deeply.
The tip of his tongue dips out teasingly, soaking up the froth of beer left behind. It’s a tempting movement, a flirtatious gesture that makes my heart flutter unexpectedly. “Either I’ve been stood up or I’ve made a complete fucking dick of myself and you’re Blake Shay.”
I raise a single brow, a crack of thunder loud enough to shake the windows of the room echoing my attitude.
“You’re Blake Shay.” He grimaces.
I lean forward, threading my fingers together as my elbows rest comfortably upon the table. “When the opportunity to work with you came about, I was confident our professional relationship was about to begin. I was determined to show you that I was the only logical decision in adding to your team. I’m good at my job, Ari. Better than good—I’m fucking spectacular. I work hard, and it shows. I have a solid client-base, any of whom would stand in front of you, hand to their heart, and sing my pra
ises. In fact, many of them offered to do exactly that. But I refused. See, I wanted to win your respect on my own.”
Mirroring my position, he offers me his full attention, apology and regret in his wide blue eyes.
Rain beats against the thick glass of the windows. “Never,” I whisper, knowing he can hear me over the downpour, “would I have thought my respect for you would’ve been lost within seconds of meeting you.”
Chapter Two
As though my words have magical powers, the lights in the boardroom flicker off before turning back on like the beginning of every bad horror movie.
“Storm looks like it’s going to be gnarly.”
Nice apology, fuckface.
I stand. “I think it’s best if we dust this off as a partnership that would never have worked. I wish you the best, Mr. Hart, but this meeting is over.”
Jaw dropping open, eyebrows reaching his hairline, he stills.
Maybe I’m overreacting. Truth is, I hold complete belief in what I told him. I’m fucking phenomenal at what I do.
In the most pleasant way, I told Ari Hart to go fuck himself, and I have zero doubt it’s likely a first for the cocky Australian.
“I would hate for you to get caught in the storm in a strange city,” I continue, as he remains seated. “You should call your driver.”
He stands from his chair, the sheer size of him is greater than I’d initially thought. Pushing his chair in gently, his eyes fall to the window as another crack of thunder breaks between us in warning.
As the rumble subsides, he takes his time moving toward me using long, slow strides. Straightening my spine, I meet his stare head on.
“Mind if I use your phone?” he asks gently. “No reception.” He holds his cell up to me as evidence.
“Sure,” I agree reluctantly. “Follow me.” I walk from the room without checking to make sure he’s following me.
The soft thud of his feet sounds along the carpet behind me, the heaviness in his stare burning holes into my spine.
Ari remains at the doorframe as I move into my office, shuffling papers to locate my cell. Staring at my screen in irritation, I drop it back down. “No reception either.”
Picking up the handset of my office phone, I’m met with silence. Pulling it away from my ear, I stare at it for a second before moving it to my ear once again.
“No—”
The office falls into darkness, accompanied by a deafening sound of the back-up generators winding down in a forced beat.
“Power,” Ari finishes for me.
I blink twice, working to adjust to the darkness.
Ari roars at me as he switches the light of his cell on, holding it under his face to make him resemble some form of ghoul.
“How old are you?” I snap.
“Just trying to lighten the mood.” His eyes roll, pissing me off further.
“By trying to frighten me?”
Turning away he offers a half-hearted shrug.
I scowl. “You clearly haven’t heard the name Rein or Shay before." A stupid thing to say, but the words are out before I can stop them.
A blond eyebrow raises in the light of his phone.
Backtrack, Blake.
“My grandfather is a crime boss,” I joke lightly. “I could totally have you knocked off.”
“I offended you,” he says. “Only fair I take that threat on the chin.”
Shoving my useless phone into my handbag, I grab my keys and move toward him.
He steps back dramatically, waving his arm out in fanfare as I storm past.
“Anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly irritating?” I ask.
“Once or twice,” he murmurs, lighting the way as we walk side by side to the office entrance. “Hope that door’s not controlled by the power in the building.” He laughs as I stare at the keypad.
With no lights visible, I swallow down my apprehension, praying the door fucking opens.
I push in my access code but nothing happens.
I try it again.
And again.
And again.
“Well, shit.”
I turn back to Ari and work to ignore the way my skin grows damp.
“Emergency exit anywhere?”
“You’re of some use after all,” I tease, relief settling the shake in my hands.
I hurry back the way we came, indicating he follow.
“Hey,” he says in a droll tone, his wide strides easily meeting my quick steps. “I'm the keeper of light.” Waving the light of his cell in my face.
I’m thankful he can’t see my smile.
If he wasn’t such an arrogant fuckface, we’d likely get along.
I test the handle of the exit door, and it moves without issue. “Bingo.”
I wave him through. He steps past me into the stairwell.
“This’ll take us down to the parking lot. I’ll drop you to your hotel,” I say.
“I’d be much obliged, Mrs. Shay.”
“It’s Miss,” I correct insolently.
Hands held up in surrender, he dips his chin in acknowledgement. “This stairwell will take us where you think it will, ay?”
I move past him so he can’t see the doubt creasing at my eyelids. “Where else would it take us?”
Ari steps back toward the door we came through, testing the handle. “It’s locked,” he tells me unnecessarily.
“And?”
“I’m guessing if this door is locked from this side, they all are.”
I stare at him in the dim light of his phone. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
He rubs at his chin in bafflement. “Didn’t say it makes sense,” he offers. “Just saying it seems that way.”
Waving his hands in front of my face, I step back.
“What?”
“Just checking you were still with us, you were kinda just staring at me blankly.”
I don’t speak.
“I think we’re stuck in the stairwell,” he announces.
No shit, Sherlock.
I push past him, testing the door for myself. Sweat teases at the bottom of my spine, panic settling in.
I jog down the steps, grabbing hold of the handle for the next door.
Locked.
“Fuck,” I bite out.
I dash down the next flight, Ari following languidly behind.
“It’s locked,” I tell him uselessly.
“How many levels?”
Staring at my feet, I pull in a deep breath. “Twelve.”
“Easy peasy. Let’s test ’em all, just to be safe. One of them will likely work.”
I nod eagerly. “Yeah.”
“You clausto?” he asks cautiously.
“Huh?” I frown.
“Claustrophobic,” he clarifies.
“No,” I answer honestly. “Just freaking out about being locked in a confined space with a stranger.”
“Eating people isn’t really my hobby of choice, I promise you’re safe.”
“Phew.” I wipe at my brow. “You’re just an asshole.”
He throws his head back to laugh, the sound thick and happy and enough to settle the nerves swarming inside my stomach.
Shaking my head as I continue down the stairs, I don’t let myself dwell on the fact that Ari Hart has claimed the ability to calm my nerves. I’m putting it down to desperation.
I have no intention of working with him after he showed his chauvinistic card and I sure as shit don’t plan on seeing him again after this debacle has ended.
I have no time for assholes.
Even really sexy ones with warm, happy laughs.
Chapter Three
Ankle boots discarded beside me, using Ari’s jacket as a cushion, I thump the back of my head against the concrete wall.
We tried every door.
Twice.
Just to be sure.
I am sure, all right. And I am stuck in a stairwell with one of the world’s biggest celebrities.
“Now yo
u can’t escape,” Ari murmurs beside me.
“You’re gonna tell me you do eat people and that you’re starving?”
A quiet bark of laughter puffs through his nostrils. “I am fucking starving, but no, I was gonna attempt an apology.”
Turning my head, still resting against the hard wall, I watch him in expectation. He props his cell against the wall, creating a soft light in the hollow space.
“Please,” I invite.
“I can see how what I said could be misconstrued. Please know I didn’t dismiss you because you’re female, Blake. Honestly, I have no excuse aside from the fact that your name completely threw me. I assumed Blake was a male, and now I feel like the world’s biggest cunt,” he says.
“Lame,” I accuse. “But pathetic in its honesty. I’ll give it to you.”
“Is it because you’re still worried I’m gonna kill you and eat your insides for survival?” He smiles.
“Yes.”
He chuckles. “Tell me, is it true about your granddad? Is he really a mobster?” There’s a cheeky curiosity in his tone, one that pulls a smile onto my face. “You have a pretty smile.”
“I’ve been told it’s like my grandmother’s.” I wince. Normally, talking about Lila Shay would bring me peace. But guilt has erased that in recent weeks. I haven’t visited her grave and I feel a disconnect from her that makes me uneasy.
“That’s nice,” he says.
“Mm,” I agree, shaking off my melancholy. “And yes, he is a mobster of sorts. Not that I should vocalize it, I guess. My dad would lock me away in a basement if he thought I was threatening people with his and Dominic’s muscle.”
“Whoa! Your dad’s a mobster as well?” His eyes widen in the low light,. “Rest in peace, Blake Shay’s vagina, never to be touched for fear of repercussion.”
It’s so absurd and inappropriate I can’t help the bark of laughter that catches me off guard.
“Seriously, though.” He looks at me intently. “Has any dude even attempted to woo you? Is it known? Who you are?”
LOVE IN LOCKDOWN: A Charity Anthology Page 11