by A. J. Norris
She nodded, not sure what answer she should give. He had her breathless and awestruck, desperately searching for the usual calm and level-headedness she was so proud of.
She sat down, allowing him to push her chair in before taking a seat himself.
“So, how are you?” he asked.
Before she could answer a waiter came by, opening the bottle of wine and pouring each of them a hearty glass.
“Do you need a moment or can I go ahead and get your orders put in?”
“I’ll have the apple and pecan arugula salad, dressing on the side. And a water please,” Katherine told him, glancing over the menu quickly.
“Steak for me,” Mr. Dylan told the waiter. “Twelve ounce with a baked potato on the side.”
The waiter nodded, writing down their orders and then disappearing around a corner.
“So, you work for Mr. Whittington? What is it you do for him?” Katherine asked.
He smiled, taking a sip of his wine. “I don’t work for Mr. Whittington, Ms. Ames. I am a business associate of his. We have collaborated on several different projects throughout the years.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Years?” He looked as though he could only be half her age, twenty-two at most.
He continued to stare at his wine glass.
“How long have you worked together?” she asked, practically begging him to reveal his age.
“Lots of questions.” He smirked at her again, swirling his wine.
“Yes, well, this merger is—”
“Very important,” he cut her off. “Yes, Mr. Whittington has briefed me on just how important it is.”
“Well if that’s true, perhaps you could let me know what was so important that he had to cancel our meeting and send you in his place.” The words slipped off her tongue before she could stop them. She froze, feeling the burn of her blush on her cheeks.
He reached across the table, touching her hand gently for a slight second, then pulling away.
“Calm down there, princess.”
She sat back in her chair, instantly offended. “Princess? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? I’m Katherine Ames. Multimillionaire. I started my own company at twenty-three, and I’m one of the most wealthy and respected women in this country.”
“I’m well aware of who you are,” he said, looking completely carefree. “What I did not know, however, was how hot you look when you are mad.”
She grimaced at him, his smugness appalling her.
Just then the waiter approached, carrying their plates. He set them down quietly, seeming to sense the tension, and walked away.
Katherine picked up her fork, pouring a bit of dressing on her salad before taking a bite. Mr. Dylan continued to stare at her, her anger radiating as she avoided his gaze. Finally, he picked up his fork too.
“Look, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Mr. Whittington sent me here for a reason and I didn’t mean to upset you, which I obviously have. Let me make it up to you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Let me take you somewhere less…stuffy and miserable.”
“You suggested this place,” she said, laughing out loud.
“I thought it was somewhere you might enjoy,” he said, his dark eyes burning into her.
“Why would you think that? You think that I’m…‘stuffy and miserable?’”
“I know your type,” he said, refilling his wine glass.
“My type?” She put down her fork, feeling anger well up inside of her again.
“Yes, your type. How was it that you described yourself, Ms. Ames? Multimillionaire. One of the most respected and wealthy women in the country.” He spoke with sarcasm and obvious disdain. “People like you hang out in places like this.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” she said firmly, starting to stand up. She threw her napkin down on the plate, her appetite completely gone. “Please tell Mr. Whittington that if this is how his—”
He leaped up, staring at her firmly. “Prove me wrong then.”
“What are you suggesting?” she asked.
“Come with me and find out.” His gaze remained steady, his face only inches from hers.
“Why should I?” she asked, not daring to move an inch.
“Why not?”
He took hold of her hand, pausing for a moment as if to see if she’d pull away. When she didn’t, he laid several bills on the table, leading her out of the restaurant. As they exited, he pulled off his suit jacket, rolling up his shirtsleeves and removing his tie in an instant. She stared at him in awe, the muscles in his arms flexing with each move. He stuck his hand in the air, stepping toward the curb.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” he asked, not bothering to look back. “I’m getting us a cab. Those don’t look like walking shoes.”
She glanced down at her too-high heels that she’d picked to perfectly match her too-tight red dress.
“A cab? I could call my driver. I haven’t taken a cab in over a decade.”
He turned back to face her, his face disappointed. “Seriously? I thought you were trying to prove me wrong about you.”
“I don’t have a problem with cabs. I’m just saying that—”
“Great then, because here we go.” He smiled at her as a car pulled up to the curb. He stepped back, allowing her to climb in first. She stared at the driver and at the car for what seemed like forever before inching her way toward the road and climbing in. The seats squeaked underneath her as she scooted across to the far window, her dress riding up her legs uncomfortably.
He climbed in next, laying his jacket and tie on the seat between them. The scent of his earthy cologne filled the cab.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“One Hundred and Fifty-First Street,” he instructed.
“One Hundred and Fifty-First Street? Are you crazy? Are we trying to get robbed?”
“Calm down, princess. We’re going to be fine.”
“My name is Katherine,” she told him firmly.
“Calm down, Katherine,” he agreed. “Oh, wait! Stop here.”
The driver did as he was told, pulling to the curb only a few blocks from where they had departed. He jumped out of the car, leaving the door open for her to follow. After a few moments, she did, the warm evening air hitting her skin. She sighed, handing the driver a twenty, and followed him onto the sidewalk where he was quickly darting through the crowd.
“Wait up!” she yelled after him, curious as to where he was headed.
He didn’t stop, his gaze focused ahead. Finally, just when she was sure she was going to lose him, as her feet burned in agony, he stopped at a hot dog stand.
She approached him, breathing heavily.
“What the…hell do you…think you are doing?” she asked.
“Easy, slugger,” he laughed as he spoke, “where’s the fire?”
“You left me in the cab! What was I supposed to do?”
“Well, I figured you’d hold the cab. I was getting us a snack!” he said exasperatedly, as if she should have known.
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“I guess I was just under the impression you knew everything,” he said playfully as he handed over a hot dog.
She stared down at the bun. There were black burn marks on the meat. She immediately felt bile rise in her throat.
“What?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you don’t like hot dogs, Ms. Ames.”
His smirk annoyed her to no end; the way he was able to get under her skin was uncanny.
“I didn’t say I don’t like them. We just ate dinner. I couldn’t possibly eat this right now.”
He scoffed.
“What?” she asked, staring from him to the food.
“Nothing,” he told her. “It’s fine, Katherine. Just, here, give it to me and I’ll throw it away.” He held out his hand.
She stared at him, something suddenly occurring to her. Her jaw d
ropped open.
“What?” he asked, passing his jacket from one arm to the other.
“I don’t know your name,” she said.
He turned to stare at her. “What?”
“I mean, you introduced yourself as Mr. Dylan, yet you’re calling me Katherine. I never learned your first name,” she said.
He smiled, rubbing his chin. “You do know my first name. It’s Mister.”
She laughed out loud, covering her mouth quickly, shame radiating across her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.” She held up her hand in an apology, placing it on his arm. He immediately stiffened and she removed it, feeling her face grow warmer. “Your name is literally Mister?”
He nodded, laughter filling his eyes. “Literally. My parents hated me.”
She stifled another laugh, covering her face and trying to regain her composure. “It’s not so bad,” she insisted.
He stared at her for a second, stopping in his tracks. Their eyes locked, the dark of his meeting the cool blue of hers. There was a softness in his shadowy eyes she hadn’t noticed before. Suddenly he laughed out loud, pulling his gaze from hers. He held out his hand to her.
“I’m just kidding. I’m Jake. Jacob, but Jake.”
She laughed, breathing a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. I really didn’t think I could keep calling you Mister Dylan all night with a straight face.”
He smiled at her, his eyes taking her in for what seemed like the first time. Finally, they began walking again. With her guard starting to come down, she took a bite of the hot dog in her hand, smiling bravely at him.
He covered his mouth in feigned shock. “Oh my God, did Katherine Ames just eat a hot dog, ladies and gentlemen? Is it possible?”
She chewed, the strange meaty taste filling her mouth. It was nothing like she’d ever eaten before—not bad necessarily, but not what she would describe as good.
Reading the odd look on her face, Jake held out his hand, taking the food from her and tossing it in the nearest garbage can. “Well, at least you tried.”
She smiled at him, taking his hand when he offered it so that their fingers intertwined. “So, tell me about yourself, Jake Dylan.”
He shook his head. “There’s nothing to tell, trust me. I live here in New York, moved here from Boston two years ago.”
“Isn’t New York City the greatest?”
“I guess so.” He stepped carefully over a puddle, pulling her around it as well.
“You guess? I grew up here, but I still find it…magical sometimes.” She blushed as she spoke, feeling like a child.
“Well, no offense to your precious city. I just don’t get out much to enjoy it.”
“What do you do?” she asked.
“Whatever my boss tells me to do,” he told her simply.
“But what sort of company do you work for? What’s the name? I’ve probably done business with them at some point.”
He stopped again, staring ahead and avoiding her gaze. “No time for questions. We’re here.” He pointed up at a building, a hotel.
“A hotel?”
“Yes, we’re going to use their conference room. We never got to discuss the merger at the restaurant. Mr. Whittington will want us to go into further detail.”
“Okay,” she told him, allowing him to lead her into the building.
When they entered, they approached the front desk. He spoke to the girl behind the counter.
“Hello, Mr. Dylan,” she said, greeting him immediately.
“Hello,” he addressed her formally. “We’re here to use the conference room. My employer should have called ahead.”
“Oh.” She looked discouraged. “Yes, there was a call. Unfortunately, we’re renovating our conference room right now. I’m so sorry,” she told him, genuinely looking apologetic.
“Come on, Jessica, there’s got to be something you can do for me. It’s really important.” He leaned across the desk as he spoke, almost as if he were flirting with her. Katherine watched, her heart pounding, suddenly feeling a bit ill.
He ran his fingers through his hair, leaning in even closer and lowering his voice. Katherine couldn’t make out what he said next.
Jessica’s face grew bright red as she began looking at her computer. Her eyes seemed to be trying to avoid his. Finally, she turned, grabbing a keycard and scanning it.
“Here you go, Mr. Dylan. Room 313.” She held out the keycard to him.
He took it, kissing her hand. “Thank you.” He turned to Katherine, holding out his arm and placing it around her. “Our suite awaits.”
“Suite? I thought we were going to a conference room.”
“Theirs is being renovated. I’ve booked us a suite instead. Don’t worry, it’ll be totally professional,” he told her, though his eyes told a different story.
“I don’t know, Jake. This seems like a bad idea.”
“What?” he asked, already having led her to a quiet hallway. He turned to face her, her back up against the wall. “Don’t you trust yourself?”
She nodded, though her body screamed no. Finally, she ducked under his arm, freeing herself from his captivating stare. “I just…it’s getting late. I should be going home. Perhaps we can meet again.”
“No,” he said simply. “It’s now or never, Katherine, and the merger is on the line.”
She looked around the hallway, desperately wondering what to do next.
“It’s up to you.” He wagged the key in front of her face. “We aren’t going to do anything bad,” he told her, though the last word hung on his lips.
“Fine,” she said, her eyes lost in his, letting his arm slide around her waist.
They climbed into the elevator together, her pulse radiating through her entire body. He hit the number three and then leaned against the wall casually. Katherine felt sweat collecting on her forehead, wondering exactly what the night held in store for her. Would their meeting be entirely professional? They had held hands earlier on the street; she knew that. The way he stared at her was far from professional, and the thoughts running through her mind during those stares tended to stray as well. She tried to slow her breathing, pursing her lips to blow out each breath. If he noticed her discomfort, he didn’t mention it.
Finally, they reached their floor. Her whole body shook as she walked down the hall behind him. When they reached their room, he slid the key in and pushed it open. The suite was large, with two separate rooms. A bed adorned one room, king-sized with a white-and-red bedding set. Her eyes lingered there a moment too long. The second room held a couch, a table, and a large television, plus a small kitchen area.
Jake held out his hand, pointing toward the couch and the table. “Take your pick. I’ll get us something to drink.”
She nodded, her entire body feeling numb. She placed her hand on her chest, feeling her heart pound. She found her way to the couch, feeling less formal, and sat on the far end. They needed plenty of space in order for her head to clear.
Before she could completely slow her pulse, he walked around the couch, handing her a glass of champagne and sitting directly beside her. He placed his feet on the coffee table, looking completely at ease.
“To a successful evening,” he said, holding his glass high. They touched them together, each taking a sip of their champagne. The bubbles hit her throat, making her feel giddy.
He smiled at her, leaning in closer. “And to being completely professional.”
Her heart pounded, his skin only inches from hers. She could feel the heat radiating off of him. She took a breath, raising her glass up again to her mouth, breaking their locked stare.
She looked down, trying hard not to blush, and gasped. There, at the bottom of her champagne flute, was a tiny sprinkle of white dust, a trail of it spiraling up through her glass. How had she not noticed it before?
She jumped up, clutching her throat. Her glass hit the ground, champagne splashing out everywhere, glass shattering.
“What…are you…you d
rugged me?” she screamed.
He frowned, standing up too. “Now, calm down. What are you talking about?”
“The white pill in my drink, Jake.” She ran toward the kitchen, turning on the faucet and opening her mouth under it. She rinsed, swishing the water around and then spitting it out.
“You’re being ridiculous.” He followed her over toward the sink, touching her back.
She jerked away, rushing toward the door. He beat her there, pushing his hand up against it so that she couldn’t pull it open. She let out a scream, pounding on the door.
Suddenly, he reached into his pocket and whipped out a gun, holding it to her. “Calm down,” he instructed through gritted teeth.
She instantly got silent, tears finding her eyes as she stifled sobs. “What? Are you going to rape me now?”
He lowered the gun, a giant grin filling his face. “What?”
“I said, are you going to rape me now? Was that some sort of date-rape drug?”
He let out a laugh, removing his hand from the door.
She remained frozen. “What is so funny?”
“Do I look like I have to…to rape anyone?” he asked her, his eyebrows raised.
She didn’t answer.
“Trust me, Kate, I can and have had anyone I want. If I wanted to fuck you, I wouldn’t need a drug.”
She gulped, the look in his eyes searing through her. “My name is Katherine, not Kate.”
He stared at her, leaning closer until his breath was on her cheek. “Katherine.”
“Then what? What do you want?”
“You.” He shoved his face into hers, pushing his tongue into her mouth. The tenseness in her body fell away, allowing her to lean into him, throwing her arms around his neck. His kiss overtook her, causing her to completely forget about the gun and the events leading up to it.
Suddenly, and all too soon, he pulled away, wiping his mouth and breathing heavily. “My point,” he said simply, looking smug.
She panted, pressed up against the door, clutching her chest. “Okay. You proved your point. So what was the pill then?”
“It was something to calm you down, chill you out. I just needed you to stay here for the night. I wasn’t planning on touching you.”
“What are you talking about?”