Because I’m a fucking idiot and part of me hopes it means that somewhere deep down he’s coming to respect me.
Just wait for the other shoe to drop, Cals. Never let your guard down.
Which is my mentality as I go in on Thursday morning. But again, it’s all professionalism as Gentry comes in and we go over the next week’s agenda. He’s traveling to Japan in a few weeks and it’s my first time booking travel plans.
His smile is easy as he thumbs in a name on his phone. A ping resounds on the tablet I’m holding. “I just sent you the booking agent my former PA used. She’ll help you arrange the hotel and car service I prefer in Tokyo.”
“Great, I’ll get right on that.” My tone is clipped and professional. It’s my go-to when I’m dealing directly with Gentry. I can’t tell if he’s pretending not to notice how stiff I’ve gotten around him or if it simply amuses him. While I grow increasingly rigid, his posture only gets more relaxed. I’ve tried to loosen up. I realize that even my stiffness plays into his control over me—this constant paranoia on my part that keeps me always on edge.
“And you already have the contacts for the meetings I’ll be attending?”
“Yes, I’ve got your itinerary already in your inbox and I’ll be calling to confirm each appointment.”
If it was anyone else, I’d describe the expression on Gentry’s face as encouraging. “You’re doing great. I know I’m in good hands.” There’s not even a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
I just stare at him a moment before I realize I haven’t responded. He arches an eyebrow. “Right,” I finally get out. “Thank you.” Then I turn on my heel and high tail it out of there.
But that’s it. I’m not called back for a strip tease or anything else.
I spend the morning arranging his flight plans and accommodations and double-checking his itinerary as promised. That turns out to be a good thing because his previous PA who’d initially set up the meetings had him double-booked one morning. It takes an hour of pleading/arguing with two Japanese PAs to get it settled so that one of the appointments can be switched to a lunch meeting. Then I had to make sure I could get a suitable table at an illustrious enough eatery to satisfy Gentry’s gastric snobbery.
By the time I email the updated itinerary to Gentry, it’s about five minutes till lunch. I glance over at Gentry. Like always, the glass is unfrosted, and like always, he appears completely unaware of my presence.
Goddammit, what is he playing at? My stomach is constantly in knots waiting for whatever he’s planning next. Or maybe he doesn’t plan. Maybe that’s his deal. There’s no agenda at all and he just randomly decides to fuck with me when he feels like it. Just for kicks. Maybe he genuinely doesn’t care what this is doing to my head. God, he probably doesn’t give two fucks about me and here I am stewing about what he’s going to do next almost every hour of the day that I’m here working.
Impulsively, I click print on the itinerary in front of me and then march over to Gentry’s office. The sensor-triggered door between our offices slides open smoothly as I approach.
Gentry looks up as I enter. If he’s surprised, it doesn’t show on his face. “Yes?” he smiles easily. The way he’s been acting, I’d swear he had an evil twin and the nice one switched places this week.
I eye him, looking for… I don’t even know what. A flash of the sinister? Christ. Why did I even come in here? I just need something to happen. Or not happen. This not knowing is seriously fucking with me!
“I finished your itinerary for the Tokyo trip. I emailed it to you but thought you might like a hard copy to look over as well. So, you know…” I flounder, “you could tell me if you’d like to make any changes.”
I set the piece of paper on the desk in front of him.
“Very good.” He looks at me. After an uncomfortably long beat, he asks, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Shit. How does he always do that, even when he’s the nice guy version of himself? Make me feel like I’m constantly on uneven footing with him. “No, well… I—”
“Yes?”
“I was just wondering…” I trail off. Damn it. How do I ask what I want to know? I was wondering when you plan to start up your games of messing with me again? Would you just tell me why you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing with me? Why you hired me in the first place? I sigh internally. Even if I did have the lady balls to ask, he’ll just give me some vague non-answer that will put me at even more of a disadvantage because I was stupid and vulnerable enough to inquire.
“Miss Cruise?”
I paste on a fake smile. “Nothing. I’m off to lunch now. Can I bring you anything back?”
He nods. “A Philadelphia club on rye from the shop on the corner.”
“All right. I’ll be back at the end of my lunch hour.” With that, I all but scurry from the room. I only feel like I can really breathe again once I’m in the elevator and heading away from Gentry Tech offices. Which is how it usually goes.
Stepping into those offices every morning is like jumping down the rabbit hole. I become some strange Not-Me version of myself for eight hours only to emerge on the other side a bit dazed. Then I try to block out everything that happened until I have to return again for my next shift.
When I come out onto the sidewalk, I take in a deep breath of air. It’s noon and the sun is right on top of the city. I love the way it warms me. Summer in the Bay Area never gets very hot and it’s still only mid-June. It feels like a perfect seventy-degree day, balmy with an idyllic breeze coming in off the bay. I pull off my suit jacket so I can feel the sun directly on my skin.
There I am.
I’m still here underneath the craziness my life has become. I saunter down the street, not even caring that I’m wasting minutes of my lunch hour. I haven’t actually gotten to take my full lunch hour very often since I started working for Gentry. Usually I work straight through it and just grab a granola bar from the vending machine and other times there have been business or working lunches.
But the couple times I’ve taken the escape like this, it’s just pure pleasure getting out of the madhouse. No expectations or anxieties.
I don’t have to be Personal Assistant/Sex Toy or even Mommy. I’m just an anonymous face in this big, diverse city. Speaking of diverse—last time I was out on my own, I ate at one of the food trucks. But today I’m looking for something a little more interesting.
I stop at a Korean restaurant because they have tables outside. It’s too beautiful a day to shut myself back up indoors yet. A hostess seats me and brings me water while I look over the menu.
I don’t recognize most of what I’m looking at. I didn’t do a lot of adventurous eating even when I was at Stanford simply because I didn’t have the money for any frivolous spending.
A cute young girl, maybe college age, introduces herself as Seo-yeon. It’s on her name tag, too. “What can I get for you today?”
I smile up at her. “I have no idea, but I’m pretty game for anything. What do you recommend or what’s the special today?”
“Are you vegetarian?”
I shake my head no.
“Then how about the bulgogi beef tacos? They’re a favorite.”
“Tacos?” I laugh. “I thought this was a Korean place.”
She grins. “It’s California. Everything comes in a taco. Though shh,” she lowers her voice and leans in, “we call it Korean-Mexican fusion.”
I laugh again and it feels good. “That sounds awesome. The Korean beef taco it is.”
I order iced tea with it and soon I’m sipping my iced tea and leaning back with a relaxed smile on my face as I people watch on the busy street. There are people in business attire like me, but blended in are college kids since the U is only a few blocks from here. Plenty of tourists, too. Take for example that sun-burned couple with the fanny pack who can’t stop taking selfies with every palm tree they see. Then there’s a dad pushing a stroller with two little girls, one a baby and one wh
o looks about a year older than Charlie. The older one is chattering nonstop while they roll past me. I’m still smiling even when a shadow comes up behind me and blocks my sun.
“Miss Cruise.”
I almost spill my drink as my whole body stiffens. I look behind me. What. The. Fuck.
“Mr. Vale.” I’m halfway up and out of my chair before he holds out a hand as if to calm me down. “Are you stalking me?”
He walks around the table and takes the seat across from me. I still don’t know whether to sit down or take off down the street.
“Relax, Miss Cruise. I’m not, as you put it, stalking you.” The idea sounds ludicrous coming out of his mouth and his next statement calms me even more. “Coming across you and your son the other day in the park was entirely coincidence. And please, call me Jackson.”
I sit back down in my chair.
“As for meeting you now, well, I was hoping to catch you at lunch. I did have my driver watching for you. My office isn’t far and he reported you were here. I wanted to apologize. It felt like I might have…” he swallows and looks across the street, “made you uncomfortable when I approached you and your son at the park last Saturday.”
I blink. So he wasn’t stalking me on Saturday at the park, but he is today. That’s supposed to make me feel better?
“Um… okay?” I eye him warily. He’s dressed very similarly to how he was when Gentry and I met him for lunch last week. Sleek, dark gray business wear. White shirt, gray tie. Obviously expensive. Again he’s got that sexy five o’clock-shadow-at-noon thing going on. Shit, did I just refer to him as sexy?
But before I can look away from him, I’m caught by his eyes. Ice blue. Focused entirely on me. I do look away then. This guy is too intense. I’ve already got one of that kind of man in my life. I definitely don’t need another. Especially one that witnessed what Mr. Vale did. My cheeks pink with shame at the memory and I duck my head.
“All right. Apology accepted. The meeting at the park was an accident. Got it.” I give an awkward hand wave. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Vale. If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to enjoy my lunch now.”
I keep my eyes firmly on my table but I can tell out of my peripheral vision that his hulking body isn’t moving to leave.
“I told you, it’s Jackson.” His voice is a deep baritone, like the air is echoing around in that large-chambered chest of his before it makes it up his throat and out of his mouth, “I feel like I need to warn you about Bryce Gentry. He’s not a good man. Associating with him…” he pauses as if not knowing how to get out what he’s trying to say. “I worry— He’s just not—”
My eyes flash up at him and I can’t help the laugh that comes out of my mouth. “Are you kidding?” I lean over the table. “Look, pal.” I meet his dark eyes with mine. I don’t bother hiding how pissed I am. “I don’t know you. You really don’t know me.” I enunciate each word carefully. “I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need strangers trying to get involved in my business.”
Just then Seo-yeon comes back with my food. It looks and smells delicious. As ever, I’m not a girl who loses her appetite when stressful things are happening. I’m the opposite. I stress eat. The longer Mr. Vale sits across from me, the more I want to stuff my face.
Fuck it. I just told him I don’t care. I grab the taco and take a huge, satisfying bite. And a juicy bite. Did I mention juicy? Because some kind of sauce drips down my chin. I try not to be too obvious about searching for my napkin. Yeah. Tacos, not so great for dining with a companion.
Then again, I never asked for this companion.
“If you don’t mind,” I say with my mouth still full of food. No need to bother with politeness, after all. “I’m trying to have a nice, relaxing lunch here. Alone.”
As I watch, one edge of his mouth quirks up. He reaches over and hands me a napkin.
I snatch the napkin and swipe at my chin. I can’t take my eyes off Jackson. Shit, is that a smile I see on the untouchable Mr. Vale’s face? It’s not like Gentry’s smiles either, which always feel fake or manipulative. No, from the little I’ve known of him, Mr. Vale doesn’t seem like the kind of man who bothers with fake smiles. If I’ve managed to get one out of him, it’s genuine. Granted, I did it by being a gross lunch companion, but…
But nothing. I do not want this man around. Frankly, I don’t want any men around, and certainly none associated with Gentry. Even if they are enemies. Although, if this guy is Gentry’s enemy, doesn’t that actually say good things about him?
Shut up brain. I grab my ice tea and take a big swallow to wash down the too-large bit of taco I just swallowed. The whole time, he just keeps sitting there, watching me with that steady gaze of his.
I huff out an exasperated breath. “What?” I ask. “Why are you sitting here? What do you want from me?” It feels good to ask the question, the one I didn’t dare put to Gentry earlier.
Mr. Vale… Jackson… leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me. “I’m trying to understand. Why you?”
“What do you mean?” I genuinely have no idea what he’s talking about.
“Why is Gentry dangling you in front of me?”
Wha— I just blink. “Dangling?”
“Why do you think he brought you to that lunch meeting?”
Um. To fuck with me?
He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to catch up with the program. “You were bait.”
“Oh my God, dramatic much?” I drop my head back and look up into the blue sky. Except it’s not just blue now. There are gray clouds floating in. “Perfect, just perfect,” I say to myself.
“What?” Jackson asks. “If you’ve spent any time with him, you know he likes to play games with people.”
I glare back at him. I’m tempted to take another bite of my taco, which is freaking delicious by the way, but I figure this will go faster if I don’t have to talk through a mouthful of food. “Look man,” I toss my hands up in the air. “Fine, even if Gentry’s trying to play at something…” I shake my head again. I don’t really get what Jackson’s even saying Gentry’s trying to do, but whatever. “I’m up to my eyeballs trying to handle that guy already, and he’s my boss. I don’t need you fucking with me, too. If he’s trying to mess with you,” I gesture between us. “It seems like you being here or seeking me out or whatever is playing right into whatever he wants, right? So just ignore me, go off and do what you do, and I’ll do the same. Groovy?”
He’s quiet for a long second before responding, “Did you just say… groovy?”
I feel my face color slightly, but before I can say anything else, he continues, “and what do you mean, you’re up to your eyeballs trying to handle Gentry? What’s he doing that’s making you have to handle him?” He leans in closer and his voice drops. “Things like what happened at lunch last week?”
How could he ask that? How dare he ask that?
Suddenly I can’t stand to be sitting here. In spite of how good my lunch looks and tastes, I can’t do this. He’s ruined it. Ruined it just like the rain drops that start to spatter the sidewalk around me. I reach into my purse blindly and pull out my wallet.
“Miss Cruise,” Jackson says, but I ignore him and slap down money for my lunch including a nice tip on the table. It’s not Seo-yeon’s fault my lunch got ruined.
I swallow hard and only then realize I’m biting back tears. I never cry. I’m so not a crier. How dare he fucking bring up that fucking lunch? What a fucking bastard.
I stand and then start walking as fast as I can away from Jackson.
“Wait, please wait,” he calls behind me but I don’t slow down.
But then as the rain starts to fall harder, he grabs my arm and swings me partially around. His blue eyes are as dark as the clouds above our heads. “All I need to know is if you’re his willingly. Are you?”
Of all the— “I’m not his,” I sputter indignantly. “He doesn’t fucking own me.”
And for some reason thi
s sets off a flare of intensity and… satisfaction? in his expression. That’s it, I officially give up trying to understand any of this.
But then he leans over and speaks so softly in my ear I can barely hear it above the falling rain. “If you belonged to me, Miss Cruise, you wouldn’t look so disgusted. True ownership goes both ways. I would own you, but you’d own me, too. A concept I’m sorry to say Bryce Gentry’s never understood.”
My breath hitches and I pull back from the intimacy of his voice on my ear, only to get lost in the dark blue of his eyes.
“Let me go,” I whisper.
He does and then he turns and is gone into the rain-soaked street, leaving me behind, breathless and confused.
* * *
I’m drenched down to my skivvies by the time I get back into the office. I’m such an idiot for not checking my weather app before I left. The warm of the afternoon is totally gone. Now I’m a wet, shivering mess.
On the elevator up to the fifteenth floor I shove another huge bite of sandwich in my mouth. I can’t believe I had to buy two lunches for myself. I thought my appetite was ruined after the run-in with Jackson. Yeah. That lasted until I got to the sandwich shop to order Gentry’s food and was assaulted by the delicious smell of fresh baked bread.
Stupid, stupid to let Jackson get to me. I roll my eyes at myself. Not that there would have been much time to enjoy my first lunch anyway. I had to wait in line almost twenty minutes for the sandwiches. Hence stuffing my face on my way back up to work.
I manage one more bite before the elevator pings open.
I try to walk through the lobby toward my office with as much dignity as I can while looking like a cross between a drowned rat and a chipmunk with cheeks stuffed full of sandwich. Maybe no one’s looking.
“Mr. Gentry said to go directly to his office when you return,” the receptionist says oh so helpfully, looking me up and down. She’s blonde and skinny as a rail, one of those model thin chicks.
“I gug gogga,” I try to say with my mouth full, gesturing toward my office first, but she shakes her head vehemently.
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