by Carrie Lomax
Going into a high-value, high stakes pitch with Janelle at his side meant his mind would be on what she was wearing, on her faint, feminine scent and the throaty sound she made when she came all over his cock. There was too much at stake to risk having her standing next to him. It didn’t matter that she could talk to anyone, while he struggled to find words. With her around, his dick was fully in control of his brain. He had to be present in the room or risk losing.
“Excuse me, Mace.”
Trent shook his head to clear it. “Yeah. Priya?”
The first thing he’d do if he won the contract was rent office space. This arrangement wasn’t working anymore.
Send me the final and your branding. I’ll work on the presentation this week.
Janie had said she wouldn’t quit on him. He was holding her to that promise, but she was staying in Florida. Where she was safe—from him.
* * *
“Can you see me?” Janelle tilted the screen on her computer.
“You’re pixelated. Wait. Okay. Better.” Her sister Alyssa’s face swam into view, a loose braid trailing over her forehead and down one shoulder. Below that, she wore a bikini top and yoga shorts.
“You went back to blonde?” Janelle asked.
“That’s all the sun’s doing. No more dye. It’s so much easier to keep up.” Alyssa shifted on the bed. “Hey, look. I got a tattoo!”
“You did not! Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” Janelle’s shock was mostly sisterly teasing, but considering how corporate Alyssa had been only a few months before, the change in herappearance was disorienting.
“Don’t tell mom and dad. I’ll tell them when I’m ready. See? It’s a pedorrera.”
“A what?” Janelle summoned her high school Spanish from the depths of her memory. “A farting bird?”
Alyssa’s smooth laugh hadn’t changed since she’d gone off on her sailing adventure. “It’s a Cuban tody. They’re adorable, tiny birds, and they do make a farting sound when they’re hunting insects. We saw them when we were visiting Marc’s family.”
“Saw what?” A masculine voice that Janelle knew all too well floated in from offscreen.
“Un pajarito bonito,” Alyssa made a kissy face. The screen went dark as Marc De Luna’s form blocked the camera. When the image came back, Marc had tackled Alyssa back onto the bed. She was smiling up at him.
“Hey. I don’t need to see this. Get a room!” Janelle called out.
“Hi Janie.” Marc sat up. If anything, he looked more ripped than ever. Alyssa, too. They’d turned all lean and muscular from sailing and, presumably, a lot of sightseeing and sexing along the way.
It would’ve been easy to summon a pang of jealous longing, but Janelle felt only warm affection. “Marc, can I have a few more minutes with Aly before you get her back?”
“Only if you’re not plotting some ridiculous contest,” he smirked. Not long ago, his casual cockiness had irritated the hell out of Janelle. Her dynamic with Marc had always been big-brother-little-sister-ish. In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he and Aly had shacked up, on a sailboat or anywhere.
“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad. I need some big-sister perspective, so scram.” Marc obliged her, after a lingering kiss with Aly.
That is what I want with Trent. Janelle thought wistfully.
“Okay, Janie, what’s up?”
“I’ve, um, been offered a job, and I’m taking it.”
“Yay! That’s terrific!” Alyssa bounced and clapped. Again, not a reaction Janelle would’ve expected from her sister only a few months ago.
“It’s in Washington, D.C.” Janelle’s smile faded as her sister cocked her head, puzzled.
“D.C.?”
More or less. “Virginia, technically. D.C. area. It’s a business development role with an IT contractor.”
“I…” Alyssa played with the end of her braid. “How did you land it?”
“I networked and made connections. The company’s owner was willing to risk hiring me for a contract role, and I found a short-term sublet. Mom’s helping me clean up my finances, the way you tried to get me to do. In a few months, I’ll be in better shape.” Stretching the truth was easy. Too easy. Janelle swallowed. More than anything, she wanted to be able to speak the truth freely. Without shame. She’d wallowed in it for way too long, and she had no more time for that emotion. But before she went blurting Trent’s name, she had to know if there was a future for them, and the only way she was going to find out was to take a big leap of faith. “I was wondering if you could make a fancy PowerPoint template for me. For a pitch. I want to go into this job looking like a rock star.”
“Sure. Of course. Send me the branding and a sense of what you want it to look like.” Before she’d set sail with Marc, Alyssa had worked at an advertising company as a graphic designer. Janelle’s relief was immediate and short-lived.
“Janie, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Aly asked.
“Not really. But I have to try something new. Maybe I’m gravitating toward the corporate world, even while you’re running away from it. Wouldn’t that be funny?” Janelle injected false confidence into her tone.
“I’d be shocked beyond belief and yet somehow not surprised. I can totally see you running a big company someday. You’re decisive, you have vision, and you work hard for things you want. I think you’d be good at it, honestly.”
Janelle and Alyssa affectionately signed off.
* * *
We won.
Two words of relief. An undefined ache as Trent popped open the bottle of champagne Olivia had brought. She chatted with Priya and Chaitu, the developer and project manager for the new account respectively. Olivia was cool in her lime green sheath dress and gold jewelry. April had been warm, and today was glorious, all promise and hope.
Congratulations.
One word. How many did they have left to say to one another? Trent’s thumb slid over his phone screen. I’ll mail your check this afternoon.
In the hall outside the apartment, the door banged closed. The new tenant. If he hadn’t been in New York, he might’ve snapped up the studio across the hall. Instead, someone else had beaten him to it. Now he had to look for real office space instead of taking half-measures. The signed contract with the retainer deposit had arrived from New York that morning.
“To winning!” Trent raised his glass.
Keep it short and sweet, and get everyone back to work. All five employees, and Olivia, raised glasses of champagne. Trent’s phone buzzed, ruining the moment.
Don’t bother.
Trent choked. What the hell, Janie?
I’m paying you. A phone in the hall beeped. He could hear it through the door. For a second, it sounded like Janie’s. Lots of people had that ring tone, though.
I’ll pick it up.
Trent stared at his phone. Olivia raised her glass with a knowing smile, then turned back to her conversation. No.
The ache morphed into dread. Liftoff. A crash was inevitable. When?
The signal from the hall was immediate and unmistakable. Next time I see you.
His phone tickled his palm. He typed a response. Deleted it. Tapped the same word—a plea, a flutter of hope he wanted to crush under his heel like a butterfly. What kind of sick bastard wanted to kill butterflies?
When?
The same beep. A soft knock on the apartment door. Trent depressed the handle and cracked it open.
“Hi.” Janelle stood on his welcome mat in a knee-length black skirt and green patterned blouse. It turned her eye color a brilliant emerald. Mischievous yet collected, she searched his face, waiting for him to react.
Oh, fuck.
He let go of the handle. The door slammed closed. Heart racing, he turned to find six pairs of eyes focused on him.
“Who was that, Trent?” Olivia’s dark eyes speared him with pity and amusement.
“No one,” he declared, panic rising.
O
livia’s sharp inhalation cut deep. Betrayal. She’d known about this massive clusterfuck and hadn’t breathed a word of warning. “Let her in, Mace.”
“I didn’t invite her here.”
“She worked on the pitch. You wouldn’t have won if it weren’t for Janelle’s work on the presentation. Give the girl a glass of wine and a handshake.”
Winning doesn’t give her license to live across the hall.
Beneath his panic, Trent couldn’t deny a thrill of anticipation. Not long ago, Janelle had stood naked in his windowless, shitty bedroom while he did his damnedest to scare her off. She’d told him she’d never quit on him. He hadn’t believed her until this moment.
Janie. What the hell do you think you’re doing? He hadn’t been the one to declare war, but he was sure as hell going to win. Even if it meant losing everything he wanted. Fuck, he was so messed up. He wanted her. He couldn’t have her. She wasn’t supposed to be here.
When she finally got it through her stubborn skull that he wasn’t good for anything but sex, it would end. She’d hate him, but it was better than letting her care. After all, Trent had no heart left to break. It had been shattered three times. Each time, he’d glued it back together, and buried the damaged thing farther down to protect it. No one got close. Janie was beyond naïve if the believed she could show up and turn them into a happy couple. There was no fixing sheer stupidity.
He stalked down the hall to the desk in his windowless bedroom. When he returned a moment later, Olivia had filled a plate and poured a glass of champagne. Chaitu was helping her with the door.
“Where are you going?” Trent demanded.
“If you won’t invite her in, I’ll take the party across the hall.” Olivia radiated cool disappointment.
“Great, do you mind giving her this?”
Olivia stared at the check in his hand. Her gaze bounced to his, sorrowful and shocked. “I’m not your errand girl, soldier.”
She let the door slam closed behind her. A rebuke. The training wheels were off. He couldn’t count on Olivia’s help indefinitely, anyway.
It was better to make a clean break. Always.
* * *
“I didn’t think he’d react like that.” Olivia speared a piece of ham with her fork. “Trent’s either scared shitless, enjoying the drama, or some combination of the two. You sure hit a nerve, Janelle. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
At lunch during her visit a few weeks before, Olivia had offered her a part-time, temporary job. Janelle had handed in her resignation letter at the warehouse the next day. Once Jessie had finished alternately berating her for leaving and crying about how she was going to miss the only other woman at the warehouse, Janelle had fired off an email to Sean about the sublet.
Olivia had expected her to work from Florida. Janelle had other plans.
“I knew it was a risk. It’s only for a few weeks. I needed to start fresh.” The only thing keeping her in Florida was her family. Between the temporary job offer and the temporary apartment, it seemed her stars had aligned. Proximity to Trent was both an inducement and a concern. “I figured the worst that could happen is I move in, he starts seeing someone else, and I have to suck it up and deal for a few weeks before I move back home. At least I’d know, right? And I’ll have made more business contacts, too.”
Saturday morning, she’d loaded her shiny new two-door hatchback with everything she owned, hugged her parents goodbye, and driven eight hours. Sunday evening, she’d stayed with Olivia. Monday morning, she’d picked up the keys from the leasing office and moved her few suitcases and boxes into the apartment, half-hoping, half dreading they’d bump into one another in the hall. But she didn’t see him all day.
Tuesday, the news had come about the win. Olivia had texted to invite her to the party. Janelle had knocked on his door with her heart in her eyes, trusting he’d see her bold move for what it was: a declaration of love.
Slamming the door in her face had been Trent’s equally non-verbal, unmistakable way of literally shutting her out. Janelle sipped the champagne Olivia had brought over. “Thanks for including me in the party.”
“You belonged at the real one, but I do what I can. I should get back to the office. You’re coming in tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’ll be there first thing.”
Olivia patted her shoulder. “Hang in there. He might come around. Though I wouldn’t blame you if you told Trent to suck an egg after today. If everything else is working out, you’ll have time to look for a new apartment.”
“Exactly. See you tomorrow, Olivia.” Alone with her unpacked boxes, Janelle’s confidence leached away. This was the first time she’d ever lived alone. No roommate. No family nearby to fall back on. Her one friend in the area apart from Trent was Crystal. Olivia, now that she was Janelle’s boss, didn’t quite count. Janelle flopped onto the couch that turned into a pull-out bed, which had been delivered the previous afternoon. A small table and chairs sat next to the door. A bright upholstered side chair, rug, and coffee table from Ikea completed the setup.
No TV. She’d get by with streaming shows on her computer until she could afford one.
Janelle gathered the cardboard from her newly assembled furniture and dragged it down the hall to the garbage room.
“Need a hand?” A Southeast Asian man, gestured to the heavy cardboard. “I’m Chaitu. I work for Mason.”
“Thanks, Chaitu. Janelle. I moved in yesterday.”
“Did you really consult on the RMS pitch?” he asked curiously.
Janelle used her foot to jam the cardboard into the garbage closet. “Yes.”
“It was really good. Priya presented. She said they basically awarded it on the spot. What happened with Mason?”
“Nothing,” Janelle replied, a little too quickly. “I was only a consultant. He didn’t expect me. I just moved across the hall, and I don’t know anyone in the area. I was assumptive in stopping by. Lesson learned.”
Chaitu didn’t appear convinced, but he didn’t press her for details. “The team goes out for Taco Tuesdays. We’re moving the party down the street later, if you want to join us.”
Janelle beamed. “That would be great. You know where I am. Knock when you’re ready to go.”
Might want to stay out of Trent’s way for a while.
Nah. She hadn’t come all this way to politely maneuver around his delicate sensibilities. She wasn’t going to force him into anything, but she wasn’t going to let him pretend there was nothing between them, either.
Back in her little studio, Janelle finished washing and putting away the dishes and hanging up her clothes. Once she had a more permanent address, she’d send for the rest of her belongings. For now, the closet was only half-full. She’d taken every single high-necked, oversized blouse to Goodwill before she moved. Only her best clothes, including the things her sister had given her after quitting her job in New York, had come with her to Virginia. She was done hiding anything, including her body. Hiding hadn’t protected her from harassment anyway.
Around four, she made a quick visit to the grocery store. Janelle had just set the bag of food on the counter when a sharp rap on the metal door startled her. Early for Chaitu.
It was Trent. Janelle leaned against the frame, waiting. “Do you need something?”
His mouth was a flat, angry line. “Here’s your check. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“What does it look like? Moving in.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“I can imagine how the conversation would’ve gone. ‘Trent, I’m thinking about moving into the apartment across the hall.’ You’d mumble something about a clean break, fuck me until I couldn’t see straight, and pat my ass right before you let the door hit it on the way out. I let you do that once. You’re not getting away with it again.”
“Keep it down, would you?” He glanced behind him, at the hive of busy coders working away in his more-work-than-live apartment.
She snorted. “Are y
ou ashamed of fucking me?”
“Of course not. Can we have this conversation inside?”
Janelle crossed her arms and sank deeper against the door frame. The edge bit into her back where she propped it open while blocking the entrance with her body. “Sure. Invite me over.”
“Can’t.” He bit the word out. With exaggerated politeness: “May I please come in?”
Janelle backed up. “Since you asked so nicely. Unlike some people, I don’t slam doors in my unexpected guests’ faces.”
Trent’s body was coiled and taut as he stepped two feet over the threshold. He examined the room for a long minute. “Sorry. For slamming the door.”
“Are you?” Janelle poured two glasses of water and held one out. He took it and looked up at the light fixture. Trent examined her handiwork without moving a step further into her apartment.
“I was planning to rent this place. No wonder Sean gave me a weird look when I asked about it.”
“Am I supposed to be sorry I stole it out from under you?” she demanded.
“Are you?” Finally, he looked at her. Janelle tried to read everything in his eyes, but there was too much.
“No, I got here first.” She grinned sweetly.
“So you did.” He rubbed his jaw. A three-day scruff covered it. Janelle wanted to rub her face against it.
“I’m not going away, Trent.” Janelle leaned against the counter, waiting.
He ripped his attention away like a Band-Aid left too long on delicate skin. “What do you want from me?”
Love, you moron. Hearts and rainbows and kids and minivans and arguing about bills over leftovers for dinner. “Who says I want anything?”
A knock at the door. She placed her water carefully on the counter, identical to the one in his place, only smaller.
“Expecting guests?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone, but Janelle thought she detected a hint of concern beneath.
“I have plans.” Janelle opened the door and pasted on a smile. “Hi, guys. Give me one minute. I’ll be right out.”
Trent’s body tensed with smoldering fury. “Taco Tuesday. You’re going out with my team?”