"You have reservations about dating him, don't you?"
I'd rather have my fingernails pulled out with a set of pliers than have this conversation. "I'm not dating anyone right now. I'm taking a break from relationships."
I'm impressed with myself since that sounded borderline believable.
"Understood." Gabriel's gaze sweeps my desk. "I'm on the hunt for stock numbers for the new silk collection at Liore. Do you have those?"
I turn in my chair to open one of the file drawers behind me. "I have them right here, sir. I organized them by color to make it easier for you."
He takes the three file folders I hand him. "Excellent, Sophia. You're the most efficient assistant I've had. That means you're never permitted to quit. I hope you realize that."
I half-smile because I can't tell if he's joking or not. He pays me well including a significant raise just three months ago. The job is stable, he's a great boss and I'm done as soon as the clock strikes five o'clock but it's not enough. I'd eat ramen noodles at every meal for the rest of my life if it meant I had a chance to show my pieces at New York Fashion Week just once.
"I'll stick around for at least another week," I joke.
He raises a brow. "Make it two and I'll consider giving you one Friday afternoon a month off."
I brought up the subject briefly last week after I heard through the office grapevine that Gabriel's brother, Caleb, had given his assistant one day a month off with pay to spend with her toddler. I don't have children so when I mentioned the arrangement to Mr. Foster he promised me that if, or when, I become a mom, he'll afford me the same luxury. I left his office with a curse perched on my lips and a deep regret that I don't report directly to Caleb instead of Gabriel.
"Are you serious, sir?" I tilt my head to look up at him. "You're going to give me one afternoon a month off?"
"The last Friday afternoon of each month, Sophia."
"With pay?" I push because I need to. I spend as much as I can on my designs and every penny counts.
"With pay."
As tempted as I am to jump to my feet and hug him, I don't. Instead, I smile brightly. "Thank you, sir. You don't know how much this means to me."
"I suspect it means as much to you as those two signed Nicholas Wolf novels mean to me."
Nicholas Wolf. The brief time he spent in my life resulted in a nice perk in the form of extra time to devote to my passion. I should thank him, but that would mean I'd need to see him again and I have no intention of ever doing that.
***
As soon as I step out of the building at precisely five minutes after five, I tug on the collar of my coat to try and ward off the thick snowflakes that are whipping against the side of my face.
Snow was never part of my life back in Florida. I grew up in a small house with a seemingly happy mom and dad and an older brother who took me under his wing. My life has always been calm and controlled.
I've followed every rule laid out before me and I've taken the path of least resistance. My dream, when I was in high school, was to jet away the day after graduation for California. I pictured myself living on the beach and going to design school.
My parents didn’t view that as a workable life plan, so they suggested, in a quietly controlling way, that I go to college in Florida and work toward a degree in business. I had no savings and no contacts in California, so I did what was expected of me.
Once graduation neared I started scouring job listings in both Los Angeles and New York. I landed an interview for an administrative job at a large company here in Manhattan. I nailed that and after working there for six months, I landed a position at Foster Enterprises. It was a junior assistant to one of the executives in merchandising. I used that as a means to my end goal. When I heard that Mr. Foster's assistant had quit, I marched up to his office, got myself in the door and spent an hour talking fashion with him. He offered me the job as his assistant on the spot.
"What time do you typically eat dinner? You're not one of those five o'clock people, are you?"
I turn instantly to my left at the sound of his voice. He's dressed as he was earlier when he came up to the office to drop off the book for Mr. Foster. Nicholas is wearing a black wool coat, jeans and now, he's sporting stylish black-rimmed glasses.
"Are you stalking me?" I slide my left hand into one of the tan leather gloves Cadence gave me for Christmas last year. "What are you doing here? I said no to dinner."
"I don't stalk anyone." His eyes fall to my hands. "I thought I'd give you another chance to say yes."
Another chance? He makes it sound as if I'm the one missing out.
"I don't need another chance. I don't want to have dinner with you."
"What about a drink?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Two women passing by us stop briefly to stare at him. The tall, blonder one, whispers something to her friend before they both shake their heads and move on.
"I'm not interested in you, Nicholas." I point after the women as they stroll toward the corner. "I bet either of those women would love to have a drink or dinner or maybe even both with you. If you hurry you can catch them before the light turns."
His gaze stays trained on my face. "I don't want to have drink or dinner with anyone but you."
"Why me?" I ask in exasperation. "I've said no already. Can't you just move on?"
"You need me, Sophia."
I laugh at the absurdity of that statement. "Your ego is the size of Texas. I don't need you."
"Your business needs me." He takes a step forward. "I was exactly like you once. I was posting chapters of my novels online hoping to find readers. I worked day and night to gain any ground I could. I was making mistakes that cost me time and money."
I eye him suspiciously. "You want me to have dinner with you so we can talk business?"
"Exactly," he says with a sharp nod. "That's it. It'll be shop talk, nothing else."
"You do realize that you write books and I design clothing?" I ask with a smirk. "You have no idea what it takes to make it in the fashion world."
He steps even closer as a group of people pass behind him. "I know how to create a personal brand that demands attention. That's what you need. It doesn't matter if it's books or dresses. Until you create a name for yourself, no one is going to notice your designs."
I finally slide my other glove on. "I'm not typically a five o'clock diner but I'll make an exception tonight. I'll give you an hour, Nicholas if you promise we'll talk business."
"Deal." He slides his finger along my chin. "You had a snowflake there."
I smile because the sudden snowstorm stopped the very minute we started talking.
Chapter 7
Nicholas
I don't know how the fuck I ended up here. I'm not talking about this burger place less than two blocks from Sophia's office. I'm talking about how I wound up practically begging a woman I don't even know to have dinner with me. Technically, this isn't dinner in my book. I eat at eight or nine o'clock. The reason behind that is evident in this restaurant. The majority of the clientele is either under the age of ten-years-old or over the age of eighty.
"How did you become famous?" Sophia asks before she sucks on the end of the straw that leads to the iced coffee she ordered.
I stare at her mouth and those bright crimson lips. My cock isn't going to behave through this dinner and that's a problem. It's not because I mind rocking a hard-on in front of a beautiful woman. I don't. If that doesn't physically say, I want you, I don't know what does. The issue is the group of children sitting with their parents at the table next to us.
"I wrote a good book," I answer without thinking. I get that I often sound like an egomaniac. I haven't always. There was a time when I was thrilled with the idea of anyone reading my work, but reality gets blurred when people start handing you checks with a lot of zeroes and women throw themselves at your feet.
I've tried to stay grounded but it's fucking hard when you're recog
nized almost everywhere you go and your bank account is a constant reminder of how many people crave your work.
"I design cute clothes," she counters with a smirk. "I'm asking how you got noticed, Nicholas? What did you do to get your work in front of the right people?"
The answer is simple, so I go with that. "I went back to the starting line."
"How so?" She sucks on the straw again, this time closing her eyes.
I cross my legs, willing my cock to calm the hell down. "I was sending out queries to agents for years. That started when I was in high school."
"I take it you had no success with that."
It's a fair assumption considering I only hit it big two years ago when I was twenty-six. "It was a waste of time. Years lost."
She nods like she gets it. I know she does. I checked out the time stamps on some of her older posts on her website. She's been designing clothing and uploading pictures of those items to her site for years. "When you stopped sending out queries, what did you do next?"
"Focused on college," I say quickly in response. "I went to school, studied writing and improved my craft."
"I've thought about taking a year off to go to design school, but I think I'm past that." She looks over at the kids next to us. "I see what the designers at Foster come up with on a daily basis."
"You think you're better than they are?"
Her eyes travel the length of the room before the settle back on my face. "I know that I am."
I smile. "Confidence is something I lacked after college. You've got it in spades, so you're ahead of the game."
"You weren't confident when you were twenty-four?"
"You're twenty-four?" There's no surprise in my tone. She looks young. I wouldn't have pegged her younger than she is, but it's obvious I have a few years on her. "I'm twenty-eight."
"I know." She taps the end of the straw with the pad of her index finger. "You weren't the only one searching for information online. I looked you up too."
I feel a rush of satisfaction knowing that. "What did you find?"
It's a question I instantly regret. I've stopped doing searches for my name because of all the shit that's unrelated to my work that's out there.
"Well," she drawls through a wide grin. "I found out that there are a lot of your books in Manhattan with lunch invitations written in them."
I sigh, looking at her face. "There's a few, Sophia. I wouldn’t say there's a lot."
"I would." Her eyes brighten. "If it works for you, that's great. I happen to think it's a lame approach."
"No shit," I say before I clamp my hand over my mouth in response to a loud huff from the table next to us. "The swear police are on patrol."
"Little ears." She taps her earlobe causing the small silver earring to sway. "I'm trying to curse less. My best friend is having a baby in a few months and I want to make a good impression on him."
She's too fucking sweet.
"Tell me where you see yourself in a year." I take a sip of the now tepid lemon water I ordered. "Where do you want your design business to be precisely a year from now?"
She hesitates briefly. "I want to be working for myself. I want my designs to be available in a retail setting… or, I want to be able to sell custom pieces from my website. Wait. I want both. I want to have both of those things in a year."
I don't point out the fact that she's not completely sure where she wants to be. I also don't mention that she has a lingering trace of the cream from her coffee on her bottom lip. "You can make both those things a reality if you set your mind to it."
"It's not as easy as wishing for it." Her gaze follows the server's movements as he places our meals in front of us.
I opted for a double cheeseburger and fries. Sophia chose a grilled chicken burger with a salad but it's impossible to ignore the way she's eyeing up my burger. "I want to taste the chicken so let's split our burgers. I'll take half of yours and you take half of mine."
"You want us to share?"
I don't want to share. I want her to myself even though we've barely spent thirty minutes in total together. "No, I don't want to share."
"You said you want to taste the chicken." She smiles as she pops a thinly sliced radish into her mouth. "You can have a bite if you want."
I shake my head and cross my legs tighter, my cock still not cooperating. "Give me half, Sophia. I'll give you half of mine."
"Deal," she says as he tongue glides over her bottom lip. "You're not as big of an asshole as I thought you were."
We both cringe when we hear the chorus of giggles next to us.
Chapter 8
Sophia
"Your burger was better than mine." I ball the paper napkin in my hand before I toss it onto my empty plate. "I don't eat beef that often, but that was too good for words."
He nods as he sips from his water glass. "I admit it was good. I typically head uptown when I want a burger. They make the best one at a place called Nova."
"I'll tell Tyler you said that the next time I see him," I say it as nonchalantly as I can manage. I'm not against dropping Cadence's name or that of her very famous fiancé. Tyler Monroe owns one of the most popular restaurants in the city. I eat there at least a couple of times a month and I've never paid a dime for a meal.
"You know Tyler Monroe?" He looks amused. "You mean you met him once when you were eating there, right? I did too."
"No." I sigh. "I actually know Tyler. My best friend is his fiancée."
I see the hesitation written all over his face. "Isn't his fiancée Cadence Sutton? She's on that morning show. I've caught her segment a few times."
"She's on Rise and Shine." I pause wondering if I should share more details or not. "Cadence and I lived together before she got engaged."
He leans back in his chair. "You have connections, Sophia. You should be using those to your advantage."
I know exactly what he means. He thinks I should send Cadence out into the world dressed in my designs. I would if she didn't have that ridiculous stipulation in her contract that requires her to wear Evlin's line. "Cadence can't wear any of my designs. She has to wear the brand that's specified in her contract when she's on air."
"Fair enough." He taps his long fingers against the edge of the table. "There must be another approach to take though. You have to be able to use your friendship with them to your advantage. They must know a hell of a lot of famous people."
"You're famous." I point out as the server clears our plates.
"I think it might damage my career if I parade around Manhattan in that tight yellow dress you call Sunburst."
"You saw that on my website." I feel a rush of color run over my cheeks. "You really did check it out, didn't you?"
"You need a better website." He ignores my question. "I have a guy who does mine. I can hook you up with him."
Every few months I give serious thought to revamping my site. I know exactly how I want it to look. I want it streamlined and simple with clickable links to my designs as well as a payment processor so if someone wants to order a piece, they can. Every quote I've ever gotten to change the site has surpassed my monthly salary at Foster Enterprises. I don't have the money to spare at the moment.
"I'm saving up for a better website."
He reaches to tug his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. The motion pulls the thin fabric of the navy blue sweater he's wearing taut across his chest. I already knew he was ripped based on those shirtless pictures of him online. I have to admit, he looks just as good in a sweater and jeans as he does half-nude.
"My guy has to update my site with a bunch of promo material for my next release." He scrolls through the contact list on his phone. "I pay him enough that he can take thirty minutes to look over your website. I'll get him to tweak it if you want. No charge."
I glance at his phone before I look back at his face. "I don't like being indebted to people. I'd want to pay him for his time."
He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose wi
th his index finger. "Consider this a consultation. If you want to work with him after that, it's up to you. He'll work out a payment plan if that's better for you."
Wheels spin in my head. This is my chance to talk to an actual professional about my site for free. I may not be able to afford the changes he suggests, but I'll have a list of what I need to go on. I'd be an idiot not to take Nicholas up on his offer. "A consultation sounds great. Can I get his number?"
"I'd prefer to give him yours." He cradles his phone in his hand. "If you give it to me, I'll pass it on to him. It would be pretty hard to ask him for a favor for a friend if I don't even know that friend's number."
"You just want it so you can give it to him, right?" I eye him suspiciously. "You're not going to go all crazy stalker on me and send me messages in the middle of the night, are you?"
"I'm not as pathetic as you make me out to be." He smirks. "I'm passing your number on to Joe, my tech guy. I can't say that he won't send you messages in the middle of the night. He does his best work then."
I slowly call out each digit of my phone number as I watch him key it into his contact list wondering if I just made the best or worst decision of my life.
***
"Thanks for the burgers." I look past his shoulder and down the busy street where traffic is bumper-to-bumper. "I'm going to head home. I have a lot of work to do tonight."
"I'll grab us an Uber." He opens the app on his phone. "What's your address?"
"I live on the corner of None of Your Business and I'll Never Tell."
His head snaps up as he laughs. "Jesus, Sophia. I think we can both agree that I'm a fairly well-known guy. I'm not going to hang outside your building tossing pebbles up to your window so you can listen to me serenade you."
"You sing?" I ask teasingly. "Don't tell me that you can sing."
"Not a note." His finger hovers over his phone. "Can you?"
"No, but I play the piano," I confess. "I was classically trained."
TENSE - Volume One (The TENSE Duet Book 1) Page 4