“Of course,” I’m quick to answer.
“Good, good.” Relief colors her face.
“Why would you ask?”
“She seemed upset yesterday, and so did you this morning. I just … I’m glad to hear that, is all.”
Suzette
Guilt and nervousness and gratefulness spin through my mind for the rest of the day at work. All I can do is count down the minutes until 6:00 p.m. when I know Adrian will step into that elevator and I can be raw with him and let everything out. It’s a gray area regarding the boundaries we set, but I have to get it out of me.
It’s a mix of every emotion, so intense I have trouble concentrating on anything at all. My office door stays closed and I ignore every text and email and knock. I rescheduled several meetings and give myself the day to gather my composure.
This is what I wanted. It’s exactly what I was hoping he would tell me was going to happen when I stormed into his office yesterday. Keeping my department whole is security and yet I feel nothing but insecure.
It all feels wrong. Just then my inbox pings with a new email notification and the subject line encompasses exactly what plays on repeat in my mind: If you weren’t sleeping with him, you’d have to fight for your job like the rest of us after the merger.
There’s a sinking feeling in my chest and when I click on the email header, the address is one I don’t recognize. More than likely it’s a throwaway account.
“Fuck you,” I mutter and click delete although I can’t say that they’re wrong.
For the last hour, I do what I can, making plans for reassuring our clients and reaching out to other department heads to ensure we have what we need to continue.
If we don’t, we will. I won’t let us miss a beat. It’s critical for our clients to know we’re stable and there won’t be any delays.
If Adrian is keeping our entire department, I have to make sure we have something to show for it. We have to be the best, now that he’s singled us out.
I feel guilty that my department is staying because of what Adrian and I have done together … but not guilty enough to stop doing it.
I’m nervous that he’ll change his mind and even more nervous that he’d be right to do it. And I’m grateful to him for announcing in front of everyone that he would be keeping our department. It saves me an untold amount of time trying to reply to questions when I don’t have any firm answers.
I shake off the nervousness as best I can when it’s finally time to get into the elevator. The office has been emptying out for a while now, and there’s no one to see me step in. Adrian is already there waiting, occupied with his phone. When he glances up at me, my heart races. All the jitters rev up and I forget everything I was going to say.
“I can’t do dinner tonight. I have a number of things that have piled up and arrangements that need to be finalized.” My heels click as I step into the elevator, pretending like that’s all right. Like it doesn’t feel as if he’s struck me and confirmed that everything is wrong and off between us.
“Okay,” I say softly, staring straight ahead as the doors close.
“I can drop you off at your place if you’d like,” he says briskly. It’s cold and I stand a little further away from him as the elevator moves. He puts his phone in his pocket and presses the button for the first floor.
“Are we okay?” Now what I’m feeling is all nerves. It’s tense between us, and different. There’s none of the hot playfulness that’s been part of every meeting we’ve had, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of what he did earlier. I know Adrian made that choice because of me. Guilt comes roaring back.
Adrian lets out a sharp breath and punches the emergency stop button on the elevator. “I need us to be—” he begins, and then he grabs me, pulling me commandingly across the space and into his arms. He lifts my face to his and kisses me hard and passionately, his tongue seeking entry into my mouth, and I part my lips for him with a moan. Heat blazes between us in an instant. It’s unexpected but oh so needed.
Relief and desperation stir inside of me as I cling to him. My back hits the wall of the elevator and everything else slips away, fading to black and blurring into nothing.
My breathing is chaotic and my eyes stay closed as Adrian pulls back. His plea is what forces my eyes open. “What do you need from me to prove to you that you matter to me? That I want you happy and I want you mine and I couldn’t give two shits about anything else?”
Gripping his collar, my fingers grazing against his stubble, I selfishly pull him in for another kiss, soft, slow and deliberate. He tastes minty and every bit of the man I know him to be. I could live here in this elevator if it meant kissing him forever.
Staring back into his pale blue gaze, I stop myself from the response that begs to be heard. The words are on the tip of my tongue. I love you, Adrian. Instead, I kiss him again, needing the stability of his body, until he pulls back to catch his breath. “Will you text me tonight when you’re done?” I attempt to make it sound casual, but I’m not sure if it works. “I’m sorry I’m so needy right now.”
He takes my face in his hands and looks me in the eye. “Stop saying you’re sorry. I will text you.” Adrian leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Do you want Noah to take you home?”
I shake my head. “I can spend the evening with Maddie.”
Adrian reaches for another button on the elevator’s panel, and then we’re moving down again. He kisses me all the way to the bottom. “I’ll text you,” he promises again. One more kiss and the elevator doors open. Adrian is completely self-possessed and put together by the time he steps out of those silver doors and disappears into the lobby.
If only I could be the same.
Maddie’s apartment is a cute, small place in SoHo. By small, I mean teeny tiny. It’s a one bedroom with a decent-sized living room. A crocheted blanket from her grandmother rests on the back of her sofa and our takeout containers are spread out on the coffee table. The comparison of her place to Adrian’s is unavoidable. They are complete contrasts. From the view to the flooring, even the light fixtures. All Maddie has is a single lamp in the corner and ceiling lights in the kitchen. Maddie’s fridge hums in the little kitchen off the living room and every so often the radiator makes a clicking sound. Even if it is small, it’s comforting to be here. It reminds me of when I first moved here. Before my ex, before this job. Over a decade ago now.
Curled up on the other side of the couch, Maddie works her way through the Chinese I picked up on the way here and groans about her latest hellish dating experience.
“He wanted me to pay for everything, including his dinner, after he was such a dick because, quote unquote, ‘If you don’t want to see me again, that’s on you and you wasted my time,’” she says. Her eyes widen just as mine do, with disbelief. “I shit you not.”
“That is … exceptionally … like, I don’t even have words.”
“I would have been happy to split the bill, but are you kidding me? I’m not going to pay a fee for not liking the guy.”
“That sounds awful,” I say, commiserating. “It’s bullshit that you even have to put up with guys like that.”
“I don’t,” Maddie tells me and laughs. “I left him in that restaurant. I just wish there were more good guys on this freaking app, you know? It’s so exhausting to have to search through all of them. Like I’m obviously not good at picking, could someone else do it for me?” A titter leaves her, but I know she’s less than happy and there’s truth to the statement.
“I haven’t looked at a dating app in a long time now.” Stirring the lo mein with my fork, I add, “Not for … months now?” I surmise, “Not since those first few weeks of the separation.”
Chewing my inner cheek, I keep my next thoughts to myself. I never would have found a man like Adrian on an app. My throat is tight with how much I miss him, and how I want things to be normal between us. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve missed someone. Truly missed them, an
d that realization toys with me as well as Adrian himself does.
“Men are trash,” Maddie says and sighs, and that’s what does it.
I break down crying over my Chinese food. What the hell is wrong with me? “I swear I better be getting my period or something because I am nothing but an emotional wreck today.” I create the excuse, pushing it out the moment I lose it. The small napkins from the restaurant make for perfect tissues.
“Oh my God.” Maddie places her container onto the coffee table and scoots over next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “What happened? It’s okay to cry,” she tells me. Of course she would say that. She’s the emotional one. I’m not. This isn’t me. It’s not who I am.
“You know about Adrian,” I barely manage to get out. “You heard the gossip at lunch, and you know what those rumors say and you know it’s true but … it’s not just sex.”
Maddie’s eyes are wide. She keeps giving me little nods, like she’s following along, but when the pause comes her mouth drops open. She cracks a bright smile. “It’s not just sex? Is it—”
“No,” I cut her off. “It’s more than that.” Another sob wracks me and it only frustrates me more. “I think I’m falling for him.”
Adrian
Sitting in the office, overlooking the city, I come to one conclusion. There’s only one reason I would negotiate everything like I have the past three days. Every meeting, the marketing department and client list was mentioned. Every deal, the number went up, with the condition it was included in the acquisition of the company … and I turned all of them down. Settling for less. Barely breaking even on a deal I spent months pursuing.
It was all to her and compromising every other deal.
Of course they took what I offered, though. Everyone who needed to sign, did so. Ending the majority of their competition was a worthwhile deal for them. Even if the coveted list remains with Suzette. Her job is secure. It will be unsteady for a while I imagine as she adjusts. She will, though, she will survive and she will thrive. There’s no doubt in my mind, even from the numbers’ side, and the team agrees. It’s not cost-effective and it’s a risk to float the company, but for her, knowing that there’s not a chance in hell her position will be in jeopardy, it’s worth it.
And there’s only one conclusion I can make of that. It would have been a quick few million, freeing up my cash flow, ending one project and moving on to the next. Instead, I’ll be supporting a company who may lose clients, whose stock will plummet once the split is finalized. A company that will have to prove themselves … a company run by her.
* * *
I think I love her.
I think I want to propose to her.
* * *
My phone rests in my lap and I stare down at the messages I typed out. I delete the two texts. It’s insanity. Running my hand through my hair, I groan at the ridiculousness of it all.
I haven’t a clue how Suzette will even react once reality hits her. I’ve gifted her a company. Technically the board will meet and vote on the positions needed to be filled to move forward. She will be nominated and everything she worked for, will come to fruition.
Heat tingles along my skin, not knowing how she will take it.
The meeting is set for next week and my instinct screams to secure her before then. To propose, to woo her, so that when the time comes and it dawns on her, she’ll already be mine.
All of that doubt and insecurity will be worthless if she’s already wearing my ring.
It’s one thing for a man infatuated to shower a lover with wealth, a lover with trust issues and one that seems to be ready to run any minute. It’s another for a future husband to secure his fiancée’s livelihood.
The only question that remains is whether or not she’ll say yes. Whether she wants me like I want her.
I’m infatuated. I’ve lost my fucking mind over her.
I think I’ll propose to her. I type it out to Wyatt and wait a moment, debating on whether I should do it without telling anyone. I could take her to any jewelry store she wanted, let her choose the ring she wants most and do it then and there.
My thumb hovers over the message.
I already know Wyatt is going to try to talk me out of it. That’s what I would do, if he texted me out of nowhere that he wanted to propose to a woman he just met last month.
A woman who’s gotten into his head and clouded everything.
But isn’t that what love is?
I don’t have a moment to send it. Wyatt and my father message me at once.
Wyatt’s message asks if he can see me.
He adds: It’s important. As soon as you can, I need to see you.
An anxiousness comes with my father’s message: You didn’t sign that contract, did you?
My gut drops and Wyatt messages: Where are you? I’ll come to you now. I fucked up. It’s all fucked up.
There’s a prick at the back of my neck, a numbness that flows through my veins.
I respond to them both immediately. To my father: I signed it.
To Wyatt: At the office.
My father: Fuck. Call me now.
Wyatt texts back at the same time that my father calls. Clearing my throat, I glance at the closed office door and then turn my back to it, facing the office windows.
“Adrian.” My father greets me and before I can do the same he says, “Tell me you didn’t sign it.
“I already told you I did.”
The tone in his voice is unsettling, enough so that my entire body tenses. There’s desperation I can’t help but to feel pulling at me through the line.
“Whatever he’s gotten himself into, I’ll help him out.”
“It’s not just him,” my father grits out between his teeth. “Did your lawyers not change the fucking clause? You’re on the hook for his investment in the building.”
“What?” My pulse races and I’m quick to open up the drawer, pulling out an unsigned copy, a previous version Wyatt had given me. Andrea has the signed copy. Signed, sealed, delivered.
“He made the purchase this weekend for the real estate not two days before the city announced the fucking highway would be built across the street.”
Wyatt’s deal, his big idea, was high-end residential builds. It’s what his father made his name doing. They’re builders and damn good. “A highway?” I can’t fucking believe it. “How did he not know?”
“The more important question is, how the fuck does he sell it now and how the hell do you get out of this contract? If not, you’re going to have to sell as much as you can. It’s to the tune of twenty million.”
“Twenty million,” I repeat, bracing myself on the desk. The numbers run in my mind, all of the companies, all of the holdings and deals I could maneuver just to cover a short like that.
“Twenty fucking million.” Every way I look at it, one company stands out above the rest. Worth eight million for a single client list.
I could fucking throw up.
“You’ll sell if you have to, hold on to the best investments only. I’ll help where I can, but I don’t see a way out. You’re going to have to shift money and hold out for the right timing.”
“I need at least a hundred grand a month for a different investment.” All the numbers for payroll and transitions tally in my mind. The company will earn it back, but not in the first quarter. Probably not for the first year. It has to float.
“For what?” My father’s tone is exasperated. “You’ll be lucky if you have enough for your personal expenses.”
“I’ll leave those numbers to my financial manager,” I bite out, irritated but also fucking terrified. I saw what happened to my family years ago when my father lost it all.
As if reading my mind he states clearly, “You might be fucked, but you’ll survive this. You’re going to have to sacrifice a number of things, but I’m calling the lawyers, I’m calling everyone. I will do everything I can, but I’m not sure there’s much we can do but sell. Take the hit. Reinve
st when there’s time. At least it’s only twenty million lost.”
I can barely swallow, my eyes closed as I realize what I would do if things were different. A quick eight million is right there.
“Fuck,” I say and breathe out. I promised her. I promised her she didn’t have to worry.
“I can’t fucking believe I signed.”
“I can’t believe he was that fucking stupid.”
“It’s his first on his own.”
“Even still, he should have fucking known to talk. He could have made fucking sure there weren’t whispers and deals in the making. If he’d told his father, at the very least, he could have been given a heads-up.”
Investors talk. Politicians are paid. Deals are made. It’s how this business is run. But only those in certain circles are privy to high-level information. Wyatt’s father would have known. He would have stopped him from buying property whose value was days away from plummeting.
“If the sellers knew—”
“Do you know how long litigation would take? And that’s if you can prove it.” I swallow thickly. There’s a reason they say the business world is run by crooks.
He got fucked over. And I signed the dotted line to come along for the ride.
Just then, the office door opens, Andrea calling out behind Wyatt.
With my phone pressed to my ear, my father cursing and repeating lines of the contract. Wyatt stares back at me, his eyes rimmed in red and looking like hell. His light tan skin is blotchy like he’s barely keeping it together.
“I fucked up. It’s a lot of fucking money.”
“Sir,” Andrea starts, a nervous energy around her.
“It’s fine, Andrea.” I wave her away as Wyatt takes hesitant steps inside the barren office, his hand running down his face. “I’ll call you back,” is all I say to my father without taking my eyes off my good friend, who just made a horrific deal … one for the both of us.
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