“Don’t thank him, thank me!” I turned around, startled, with my chin dragging the ground, when I heard Jerry’s voice come from the direction of Danny’s room. I looked over to Danny and he gave me a little wink and a smirk before he brought his coffee cup back to his lips.
Jerry came over, gave me a little kiss on the cheek, and headed over to make his own cup of coffee. I was stunned silent. I knew I had set them up. but I was not expecting a sleepover on the night they met. Jerry looked over at me and sighed.
“Don’t freak out over there, Charlie. I slept on the couch,” he said, nodding to the couch where a pile of covers were clearly visible, but that I had obviously missed. “I was just using Danny’s bathroom. You were both pretty drunk last night and I wanted to see you both home safely, and since my car is back at the club, I couldn’t very well go home.”
“Jerry, you’re amazing,” I smiled. “I’ve got to head back to LA later anyways, so I can drop you off if you’d like!” I could also grill him about talking to Porter and what he thought of Danny. This was turning out to be a better morning than I had thought, although Alex’s last message still hovered on the outskirts of my mind.
“That’s perfect. But no rush. I’m good with hanging out for a while. You guys want to do lunch?” he asked tipping the last of the contents of the carafe into a cup, and shutting off the pot.
Danny took a moment to finally put in his two cents. “That sounds great, babe,” he said, turning and winking at me. I was stunned… and elated!
Babe? Not a term Danny usually applied to guys he was seeing. It was a little weird hearing that come out of his mouth, but at the same time, it was quite endearing. I knew I was an excellent matchmaker, but I’m pretty sure I deserved an award this time. Grinning into my cup, I turned back into my room to put on some normal clothes for our impromptu lunch.
**********
We decided on Miguel’s Jr. for lunch. Greasy mexican food was an instant hangover cure. Since it was native to pretty much only Corona or a surrounding city, Jerry had never had it. I let him eat a little before I started in with the interrogation.
“Jerry, why didn’t you tell me that Mr. Porter called?” I asked, slightly accusatory. I wasn’t actually mad at him, but I wanted him to think I might be.
Coughing on his burrito, he looked up at me with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry love, I didn’t think it was a big deal. He called to ask where I was and if I was with you. I told him yes and we were at the club and you were fine. That was it. What happened? Why does he care? Isn’t he in New York?” He asked, rapid-fire.
I poked around at my taco salad. “He provoked me into saying something stupid and then got really mad when I turned off my phone and stopped answering. God, I’m such an idiot. He’s going to fire me.” I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes. I shouldn’t have been upset. I was truly on my own time and not answerable to the man, but, for some insane reason, I felt obligated to him even when I wasn’t on the clock.
“He’s not going to fire you, love. It sounded like he was just worried about you. Which is a strange emotion to hear from him.” he said, eyebrows scrunching together.
“He’s not worried about me!” I snapped up. “He doesn’t even know me. And he doesn’t control what I do in my private time. He’s not my boyfriend, he’s my boss!” I stated matter-of-factly as I shoved my salad away. I definitely wasn’t hungry anymore. I didn’t want to take my frustrations out on my friends, but with the different sort of emotions swirling around inside me, I didn’t know which way was up at this point.
“Trust me, Charlie. He was worried. I could tell in his voice. But there’s one thing you have to understand about Porter. Just because you’re off the clock doesn’t mean he can’t dictate to you, because he can. You’re his personal assistant. You’re the face of him when his face isn’t near. If something had happened last night, the headlines would be catastrophic!”
‘Alex Porter’s personal assistant gets drunk and ruins opening night of Vogue’ he mocked, making gestures like he was reading a paper. He looked back over at me, sympathy evident in his eyes.
I sighed and dropped my head back in my hands. “I never considered that. So, I guess no more fun for me.” This day was getting worse and worse and, even this early in the day, I was ready to get back home and sleep for the next two weeks.
“That’s not true, baby girl!” Danny rubbed my shoulder. “We just have to be more conscious of ourselves, that’s all!”
“It doesn’t matter anymore anyway, guys, he’s going to fire me!” I threw my hands up in the air in defeat. I felt like an absolute idiot, and completely ashamed.
“Trust me love, he’s not going to fire you. If he wanted to, he would have done it last night. He’s not of the opinion that you need to be in the office to let you go. He just tells you. Period. Stop worrying!” Jerry said, before heading back to his burrito.
I took a deep breath and righted my shoulders, preparing to pull myself together and move on from this nightmare.
“Alright, well, let’s see if we can get back in his good graces. Jerry, you ready to go back to your car?” I asked, picking up my tray and depositing the contents into the trash.
**********
Forty-Five minutes later, after dropping Danny off at home, which resulted in a sweet peck on the lips from Jerry, and then dropping Jerry off at his car, I headed to the dry cleaning place. The sweet old lady behind the counter looked me up and down when I told her I was here to pick up Alex Porter’s dry cleaning. I handed her the ticket and she just smiled and went to grab his clothing.
“You’re not his normal girl. Are you a temp?” she asked when she came back with the bundle, handing it to me and ringing up the order, and taking the company card from me.
“Oh, no ma’am. I’m his new personal assistant! Charlotte Hightower and it’s a pleasure to meet you….?”
“My name’s Mary.” she said. “Well, you’re definitely different from all of the other girls. Nice to meet you.” She handed me back my card and walked away.
Different from the other girls? Like his other assistants? What did she mean I was different? Frowning slightly, I turned around and walked out of the shop. Everyone I talked to seemed to know I was the new girl, and it was a little nerve wracking to be honest.
Fishing the envelope out of my purse, I punched his address into my GPS and started driving. Ten minutes later, I pulled up to a large glass building that reflected the afternoon sun all around me. The valet opened my door for me as I stepped out to take in the magnificence of the building. It was quite large, but stunning. I had to crane my neck to be able to see all the way up and, even then, I wasn’t sure if I could see the top. If I had to picture my boss’ residence, this is exactly what I would have pictured. A highrise in a bustling city, with a beautiful view of the world from high up on his perch. This was definitely Alex Porter approved.
Reaching into the backseat, I grabbed his dry cleaning and headed towards the main entrance. When I reached the inside, the concierge gave me a once over before clearing his throat, “May I help you, ma’am?”
“Hi, yes, my name is Charlotte High—”
“Mr. Porter’s new assistant? Yes, Yes he told me all about you. This way, please.” He directed me over to the elevator and pressed the call button. This guy was really short with me and I wasn’t sure why, or what I’d done.
Glancing over, I took a good look at him. He was probably 6 foot or more and was built for hard labor; stocky with wide shoulders. He had jet black hair that was clipped short and was wearing sunglasses. I assumed he was the concierge because he was at the desk, but I don’t remember ever seeing a concierge wear a black suit. A bodyguard maybe? I looked forward and just waited for the doors to open. When they did, I stepped in first.
Thrusting a piece of paper in my hands, he said, “Press this number into the elevator and it will take you to the top floor., Mr. Porter’s penthouse. You’ll have to enter the second set of numb
ers when you get to the floor for the door to open, and I do believe Porter gave you a key to his house?” I nodded and flashed him the key as he stepped back and the doors closed.
Riding the elevator up, my nerves were starting to get the better of me. I didn’t know why I felt so anxious, it wasn’t like he was up there waiting for me. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and felt a bead of sweat. Man, this elevator was hot! When the elevator finally dinged letting me know I had arrived at my destination, I punched in the numbers with shaky fingers, completely entering it in wrong. I felt like I was waiting for the doors to open to find Satan himself on the other side to drag me down to hell. I took a few calming breaths and tried the numbers again, this time successfully. It would have been horribly embarrassing to get locked out and have to go all the way back down to the lobby for a new set of numbers.
When the doors did finally open, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I stepped out and watched the doors close behind me. I was in a foyer of some kind. The walls were bright white with multiple paintings scattered around the area. It reminded me of Porter’s office. None of the paintings went together, per se, but they were beautiful none-the-less. In front of me was a round glass table with a bouquet of fresh flowers propped in the middle. It was surrounded by technology magazines. On the other side of the table were two white double doors. The entrance to my boss’ home. I took a deep breath and marched on. I stuck the key into the lock and turned, pushing the door open. I stepped in and shut the door, then I turned, and my jaw hit the floor.
His home was stunning. That was the best word I could come up with. To my right was the living area. It looked almost as if I had stepped into a cabin in the woods. The bottom half of the walls were multi colored stones of light and dark grays fused together and protruding in certain places. The top half of the walls were horizontal wood stripes. In the middle of the room sat a black leather sectional that could sit a minimum of 10 people. On the opposite wall was a large entertainment center with every gadget imaginable. My boss liked to play video games it seemed. The vision of him sitting on the couch playing Mass Effect gave me a little chuckle.
To my left was a large oak dining table with six large chairs surrounding it. A glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling over the center of the table and, even with the light of it off, the sunlight from the enormous windows behind it made it glow and refract sunlight around the table and surrounding area. It was captivating, but my eyes kept moving.
The entire left corner was an immaculate and giant kitchen. The state of the art stove, microwave and fridge were all black and so were the countertops, which blended perfectly with the light gray floor and white cabinets.
Next to the kitchen was a hallway that lead toward the back of the penthouse. There was also a staircase to the right of the hallway that I assumed went to the secondary floor. Even the stairs and railing were elegant.
My note had said to put the clothes in the closet. I didn’t see any doors in this space, so I made a guess and went down to hallway on the right side of the kitchen. I flipped on a light switch and found myself in a hallway with six doors. Three on each side. Which one was the closet? I grabbed the knob on the first door to my right and found it was locked. My logical brain told me people didn’t lock their closets so I moved on.
Moving over, I gripped the doorknob for the door on the left. Turning it, I exhaled a sigh of relief when I found a large walk in style closet with some clothes in it, as well as some storage and a vacuum cleaner. A little giggle escaped my mouth when I thought about Mr. Porter running a vacuum cleaner. Who was I kidding? I bet he had a house cleaner. After I hung up the clothes, I exited the closet and started shutting the door when I heard a noise.
My heart lept up in my throat and I froze. What was that? Thump Thump Thump. A steady sound that was happening somewhere above my head. Porter was in New York. Who else would have a key to get in here? I turned around and looked up at the ceiling, Thump Thump Thump. I swiveled towards the front of the house and made my feet move. It was difficult, almost as if my legs had been immersed in cement. Thump Thump Thump. At the stairs, instead of going past them, and bolting for the door, my treacherous body took me up one and then another, gripping the smooth wooden bannister, until I found myself at the top of the stairs looking down another hallway. Thump Thump Thump. I walked slow and steady, my mind screaming at me to turn around and leave but my body hearing none of it. At the end of the hallway I could see glass doors and I knew that that’s where the thumping was coming from. It was growing steadily louder, although, at this point, I couldn’t differentiate if the thumping was coming from that room or the blood pounding in my ears.
When I reached the glass doors I took a shaky breath and gripped my purse as hard as I could. I wish I had my pepper spray, but, after going to the club last night, I had cleared out my purse and only had my clutch. I hadn’t wanted to take the time this morning to transfer everything back to my purse. I was too hungover for that. Mustering up the only courage I had, I took a peek through the glass door and my mouth was immediately dry, and my breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t look away, I was officially stuck.
Chapter 9
There he was, dripping with sweat. Mr Porter was obviously back from New York, and was currently running on a treadmill like a stationary devil was chasing him. I needed to move away from the door. Hell, I needed to breathe. Subconsciously, I moved my whole body in front of the door and I was staring at him like a child would stare at the polar bears at the zoo. I’m pretty sure my mouth was still open, and I felt the familiar tingle, the buzz that happened on my skin whenever he was near. He must have felt it too because his head whipped around mid stride and caught me gawking. I shut my mouth as he made to turn off his contraption and get down.
I had to leave, I had to get out of there. My legs felt like lead, but I forced them to take a step back, and then another. It was too bad I only made it halfway down the hallway before I saw the heavy glass door open. I took a deep breath and looked up from the floor, grazing his strong calf muscles, over his running shorts, up his slick chest and into his piercing amber eyes. I expected anger, fury, rage. I had intruded into his workout, into his home, and I was only supposed to hang the clothes and leave, but, like a fool, I had gone right upstairs and made myself at home. Not really of course, I was trying to see if a burglar had broken in and was attempting to rob him, but, as my head cleared from the adrenaline rush, I remembered the two key codes to get in, the burly bodyguard guy downstairs, and the door being locked. I was a freaking idiot. Instead of anger though, I saw amusement. His eyes seemed to be laughing at me.
“Miss Hightower,” he cooed, taking his towel and rubbing it over his head and then his chest. “Where are you running off to?” He smiled at me, clearly enjoying the petrified and embarrassed look on my face.
“I-I was just—ummm. I’m so sorry…” I stammered out before I pivoted on my heel to try and fly down the stairs and exit this crazy situation. If he hadn’t planned on firing me before he probably would now. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes and I tried to take the stairs two at a time. My mind raced with uncertainty, and I felt like I was suffocating. Unfortunately, the fuzzy sight made me clumsy, which resulted in me tumbling down the last few stairs and landing on my face. I groaned into the carpet, embarrassed and in pain. This was turning out to be the second worst day of my life.
“Oh my God, Charlotte, are you alright?!” I could hear his deep baritone voice ask in sincere concern, as he scrambled down the stairs to get to me. He flipped me over onto my back and sat me up. Looking past him, I could see the towel on the top of the stairs, discarded in his haste to get to me. I tried to focus on the towel and not the way he was touching me, searching for something broken.
Not only was I still suffering from a mild hangover headache, I could now add backache and knee ache to the list as well as absolute embarrassment. What I really wanted was the earth to swallow me up and suck me down. I couldn’t ev
en look up at him. I knew my cheeks were bright red and my hair had tumbled out of the bun and hung down to the floor. He put his hand under my chin and lifted my face to meet his.
“Are you hurt, Charlotte? Please talk to me, are you ok? he asked softly, examining my face. He pushed himself back a little to take a good look at me to ensure that I was okay. When he brought his face down to my legs, he grimaced at what he saw. I guessed it looked bad. I took a look down and saw my kneecap had been skinned and it was trickling blood down my leg and onto his plush white rug. I was mortified and ashamed and couldn’t contain the tears any longer, letting them slide down my cheek.
“Oh God, Mr. Porter I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I thought I heard a burglar and I went upstairs to check and you were there and—and—I’m such an idiot.” I dropped my head into my hands and cried. I felt like a total, emotional moron. He didn’t say anything, thankfully. I figured he might have agreed with me, so, when he kept silent, I was grateful. The last thing I could handle at the moment was hearing him voice the same opinion, no matter how genuine his concern seemed.
The next thing I knew, I was being picked up and walked back up the stairs. He was cradling me against his slippery chest and I inhaled the scent of sweat, and man, and sandalwood. It was a heady mix that left me reeling. He kicked open the door across from the gym at the far end of the enormous hallway. I chanced a peek through my eyelashes and it looked like he’d taken me into a bedroom. The bed, sitting dead center, was a beauty to behold. It was massive and took control of the room challenging anyone to not look at it. It was covered in a white satin comforter and about a dozen plush pillows, also all in white. The entire room was absent of any color. The far window was floor to ceiling and I could see all of Los Angeles from here, including Porter Industries, but at the moment I didn’t care. I dipped my head back into his chest and closed my eyes.
Just A Man (The Porter Trilogy Book 1) Page 7