Was it enough time?
I stopped myself from looking for a dark corner. And wasn’t he with someone? “Tey said there’s no way you can be here alone.”
“Tey? Is that your friend?”
“Yeah.” But all I could think about was how it was just my luck that he could do that sexy one-brow-raised thing that made many women weak in the knees. Many women meaning specifically me.
“She’s right. I’m not here alone,” he admitted, and my stomach dropped. “I’m here with you at the moment.”
“I am not with you.”
He put both hands on his chest in feigned pain. “My heart.”
“Be serious.”
“Okay. My blue balls.”
I was less successful at hiding this grin. But it wasn’t enough to distract me from the question of his unseen companion. My curiosity was stupid, and I said I wasn’t doing stupid anymore, but apparently I still was. “Does your date know that you’re over here flirting with another woman?”
I was so disappointed in myself, I finished off his champagne.
He put his hands in his pockets, both of them, which made him so sexy my knees went weak, and considered. “I don’t think it would surprise her. My mother knows who I am.”
“You’re here with your mother.” It was a bitter relief. Bitter because I hated that it made me relieved at all.
“My father had ‘something come up,’ and she refuses to go to these things alone. Last minute, of course. He called today and ordered that I take his place. Or convinced me that it was in my best interest to accompany her. I try to ignore those threats as much as possible, but the reality is that he has more influence over me than I’d like to admit.”
Out of the corner, I caught Tey coming out of the bathroom, which was my cue to leave, but I also wanted to keep talking to Scott for the rest of the night. Which was another cue that I should leave.
Before I could even attempt a goodbye, he said, “Never thought I’d be so grateful for Dad’s mistress.”
My full attention was back on him. “Your dad told you to come to the opera with your mother so he could go out with his mistress? He told you that?”
“Not in so many words. But it’s a not very well-kept secret. Even my mother knows.”
“And she doesn’t mind?” I shouldn’t have been surprised that the player gene ran in the family, nor that there were many women who endured a wandering husband, but even with how susceptible I was to a man with charm, I knew I’d never stand by a philanderer.
“I don’t think it bothers her too much as long as she isn’t openly humiliated.” To his credit, Scott sounded mournful about the situation.
I was about to say something about how much it must suck to be put in that position, but a sudden commotion outside the bathroom interrupted the thought. As soon as I glanced over and saw a circle of women around a figure lying on the floor, I knew what had happened.
I shoved the empty champagne flute back toward Scott, then ran over to the crowd. “She’s with me,” I said, pushing my way through. “She’s okay. I got this.”
Teyana was still passed out, but I knew she’d be embarrassed when she came to, so I tried to break up the scene as much as possible before she did.
“Should we call 911?” someone asked.
“No, she’s okay. This happens sometimes.”
Happy to be let off the hook, half the crowd dispersed. The other half took off when the lobby lights flashed, indicating intermission was almost over.
I knelt on the ground and bent over Tey. “Hey, are you awake, honey?”
“Does she need some water?”
I looked over my shoulder to see Scott squatting down behind me. The champagne glass had disappeared, and the expression on his face, while calm, said he was eager to help.
I felt unexplainably grateful that he was there. Even though this had happened dozens of times when I was around. Even though I knew exactly how to handle it when it did. It still was nice to not be alone in it for once.
“I got it.” I dug in her bag and pulled out the contraband water. “She’s always fine once she’s on the ground. It’s standing that’s the worst for her. She should be awake soon.” Sure enough, Teyana opened her eyes.
“Tess? Am I on the floor?” She blinked, trying to push away her daze.
I helped her sit up. “You know you are.”
She took the water bottle from me and sipped it slowly. I could tell she was feeling better when her focus left me, and she narrowed her eyes in on Scott. “Does he really look that much hotter close up, or am I still in a brain fog?”
“I refuse to incriminate myself with a comment.” I could feel him smirking behind me, and I knew I should shoo him away as I’d shooed everyone else. The second act had started, and he was missing it. His mother would likely not be happy about his absence.
Yet I couldn’t get myself to do it.
I concentrated on reprimanding Tey instead. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling POTSie?” It was a term she used for when she was having a bad day, made up from the acronym that described her condition. She rarely fainted out of nowhere. There were usually signs leading up to it, and she’d apparently ignored them.
Tey gave me her guilty look. “Because you would have made me go home.”
“I’m making you go home now.”
“I know.”
“And we’re splurging for a cab.” I hooked my hand under her shoulder to help her stand up. Instantly, Scott was on her other side, helping as well.
“Scott,” he said in introduction. “And you’re Tey?”
“Teyana, and I know who you are.”
I felt my cheeks burn. He did not need to know that I’d been talking about him. He was already too aware of his effect on me.
He was nice enough not to gloat. “Let me have my driver take you,” he offered when we were standing upright.
Instinct told me that the offer was too much, that I shouldn’t accept. We’d be fine in a cab.
But with Tey not feeling well, and no idea how long it would take to hail a taxi, refusing didn’t seem like an option. “Fine,” I grumbled. Then, more gratefully, “Thank you.”
While Scott texted for his car, I retrieved Teyana’s cane for her. I didn’t let her use it walking outside, though. I made her take both my arm and Scott’s. If he was going to help, he might as well really help.
By the time we made it from the theater to the road, the car was already pulling up. We’d never have been able to get a cab that fast.
Also, it appeared that Scott hadn’t been joking about his other car being a Maybach. In a lot of ways, it was more impressive than the limo.
“Holy fuck, this is a car,” Tey said as she slid across the backseat. I started to get in beside her when she stopped me. “You can’t just leave without a proper goodbye,” she whisper-hissed.
I paused, debating. The car had emergency lights blinking; no one had honked yet. We probably had a minute. “Fine,” I mouthed back.
“Take your time.” She winked.
I turned back to him, letting the door loosely shut behind me. Now that I was looking at him again, I didn’t know what I should say. Thank you, obviously. Maybe, you didn’t have to do this. Kiss me, were the words that seemed to be at the tip of my tongue.
Thankfully, he spoke before I did. “What address should I give the driver?”
Oh, yes. Practicalities.
And now I had to think about this answer. “Uh…”
He gave me that drop-dead sexy eyebrow raise. “Is this a hard question?”
I’d wanted to keep him from knowing who I was before, which meant keeping him from knowing where I lived or where I was staying. Now that he knew I worked for Conscience Connect and the fact that I was sure he’d find out my whole scheme eventually, it seemed less important.
“I’m staying at my boss’s,” I admitted. “Tey should probably stay the night with me.”
“At Kendra’s?”
<
br /> “House-sitting. It’s part of the job.”
His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Quite the loyal employee. How close are the two of you?”
I shot back with a suspicious look of my own. “How close are the two of you?”
His eye twinkled with the light of a passing car. A beat passed before he answered. “Has she ever mentioned me?”
“Very tangentially.” When she’d said the Sebastians were family friends.
“There you go,” he said, as if that told me everything.
And maybe it did as far as he was concerned. An employee loyal enough to both run the business pitches and house-sit would surely be an employee who knew the men in her boss’s life.
Of course, that wasn’t the real situation, but if he thought it was, it probably meant he really hadn’t been more than a blip on Kendra’s long list of lovers.
I wished that confirmation made me feel better than it did. I would have preferred to discover that he hadn’t been on that list at all.
“Well, then,” I said, having nothing else to say. Then our eyes locked, and all the earlier restlessness returned. I remembered his lips on me. I remembered the hard shape of his cock pressed against my stomach.
His expression said he was thinking dirty things too. He stepped in closer. “I could come with you.”
Could he? “You’re here with your mother,” I reminded him.
“I could come by later.”
The fantasy played out in my head. Tey wouldn’t mind if I snuck out. Or if he snuck in. She could have Kendra’s bedroom, and we could…
I couldn’t be stupid. “I can’t.” They were the hardest words I’d ever said. “We can’t.”
“But you want to.”
“But I won’t.”
He let another beat pass. It was hard to think he was wrestling with his desire. I couldn’t imagine that he was the kind of guy who ever resisted something that he really wanted.
As though to confirm it, he leaned in, and I was sure he was going to kiss me. Instead, he just opened the door again to help me in. “Just give Rodolpho the address. He’ll get you there okay.”
Not being kissed left a disappointing ache between my ribs. I wanted to linger. A car honked behind the Maybach.
“Good night, Scott Sebastian,” I said reluctantly.
“Good night, Tessa Turani.”
I climbed in the car and gave the address to Rodolpho. When the car pulled into traffic, I wondered if Scott watched us drive away. I didn’t turn around to look.
Eleven
The lunch meetings at SIC had all followed the same pattern. Most of the team arrived before noon, in time to select their drinks from the buffet at the other end of the conference room. Once they were seated, Eden came around with a cart and placed a plate of food in front of each employee, each individualized to their dietary needs—vegetarian, gluten-free, low carb. Scott never arrived until the exact time the meeting was to start, so she’d set a plate at his empty spot, even though he rarely touched any of it.
I’d declined the offer for a meal of my own from day one. It was too hard to present when worrying about food, plus it was easy enough for me to grab something afterward since I didn’t have an office to head back to. I’d secretly hoped it would make it easier for me to move the conversations forward with everyone having to interject their comments and questions around mouths full of grilled chicken. That had turned out to be wishful thinking. By Friday, I’d become used to the routine and had resigned myself to accept that it was what it was.
Which was why it was surprising when, at a minute after twelve, Scott still hadn’t arrived.
I looked over at Brett as he checked the time on his phone, and I assumed he was noting his boss’s tardiness as well. “I guess we should get started,” he said. He flipped through the booklet I’d prepared. “Looks like organization number five listed here is for Heart Health. Want to tell us more about it, Tess?”
“Uh.” I glanced at the door, expecting to see it open any second now. “You don’t want to wait for Scott?”
“Oh, that’s right,” he said. “You don’t work here, so you literally didn’t get the memo.”
Paris laughed politely. Matt’s laugh said he found it genuinely funny.
It was then I realized Eden hadn’t put a plate at the head of the table.
“He’s not joining us today,” Brett went on.
I instantly had feelings about that, though I couldn’t quite decide what they were. Confusion? Surprise? Disappointment? A combo of all three with a heavy dose of hurt as well?
I was so busy trying to dissect my emotions, I almost missed the rest of what Brett said. “...that he was confident we were all on the same page, and he no longer needed to be in attendance.”
Instantly, I knew it was about me. About the kiss. About my choice to not pursue more of the kissing. Could he not handle the rejection? Had he only shown up to the meetings in the first place because he wanted to get into my pantsuit?
Now I definitely knew what I was feeling, and it was pissed. “I’m so glad that he considers all of this a waste of his time,” I said with gritted teeth.
Again, Matt laughed, and I decided that his sense of humor was questionable.
“That wasn’t the impression I meant to give,” Brett said. “I apologize. Let me rephrase. Scott felt he saw enough from you to realize you know what you’re talking about. You’ve earned his trust.”
“Definitely take it as a compliment,” Matthew said before stuffing his mouth with a forkful of steak salad.
“Whatever you said to him in his office yesterday must have been quite compelling,” Silvia agreed.
“Oh. Huh.” My cheeks felt warm remembering that there had been very little saying of anything in his office.
But then I considered what I actually had said. That he couldn’t drag this out. Had I somehow gotten through to him?
Whether I had or not—whether he’d meant to or not—he’d just simplified my job. He was the one who derailed each meeting with endless questions. Without him in the room, I could get through my pitch in no time.
In fact...
“In that case,” I said, mentally shifting my entire agenda, “Forget Heart Health. Forget all the organizations I’ve already presented. Each of the charities I have listed are worthy and notable, but there is one specific cause that I believe truly fits the needs and wants of SIC more than any other—the Dysautonomia Relief Foundation.”
I spent the next twenty-five minutes telling the team in uninterrupted detail about the cause I felt so passionately about. I explained that dysautonomia encompassed several different medical conditions that affected the autonomic nervous system, the system that controls all the “automatic” functions of the body such as blood pressure, digestion, temperature regulation, heart rate, kidney function, and pupil dilation. I told them that people who suffered from dysautonomia had trouble regulating these systems that we take for granted. I described the kinds of things that Teyana battled with on a daily basis—lightheadedness, unstable blood pressure, abnormally high heart rates, fainting—and told them that while some people only had a fainting spell once or twice over their lifetime, many others fainted several times a day, making it difficult to hold jobs or engage socially or participate in recreational activities.
“Dysautonomia is not rare,” I said as I neared the end of my spiel. “Over seventy million people worldwide live with some form. There is no cure and treatments are limited, and even though it’s a common medical condition, most patients take years to get diagnosed because there is a lack of awareness in both the public and medical profession.
“This lack of awareness is what makes this such a prime candidate for sponsorship. It’s a foundation that needs support from a highly profiled corporation. Of course it would be a major coup to have Sebastian Industrial promoting them, but also, it’s a major coup for you. It’s an original and unique cause, but it’s also a condition that affects many people, w
hich makes it universal. I know both of those points are important to the team in your selection.
“There’s also an opportunity to appeal to those who support the current feminist movement since one form of dysautonomia, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS for short), is primarily a women’s disease. It’s a disability that health experts compare to the disability seen in COPD or congestive heart failure. The quality of life is likened to that of someone on kidney dialysis. It’s estimated to affect one out of one hundred teenagers, and I’m betting that none of you have heard of it. Between one and three million Americans suffer from it, yet because most of these people are women, research and concern has been limited. SIC’s promotion of awareness and fundraising for research would be viewed as both on trend and forward thinking. I wholeheartedly believe it’s the cause you should be supporting because it will look good for your image, but even more because it’s an important cause.”
I was out of breath when I’d finished. Not only had I been talking nonstop with no interruptions, but I’d also gotten somewhat passionate in my presentation. More passionate than was probably considered professional. Still less passionate than it deserved.
I refused to regret anything, even when the room was silent for several long seconds.
“Well, wow,” Brett said finally, which wasn’t exactly comforting.
“That was incredibly eye-opening,” Matt said.
“I’m for supporting it.” Silvia sounded completely on board. “My niece has that POTS. Her doctors say she could grow out of it, but she’s had to quit track, and they’re even looking at putting her in a wheelchair.”
Paris turned to Matthew. “Didn’t that guy in HR have this? Ryan? He had to go on long-term disability because he couldn’t make it to work so many mornings.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” Matthew said. “He fainted at the holiday party and broke his humerus. It was terrible for him. I felt so bad. I’d feel good about choosing this one.”
Man in Charge, Book 1 Page 10