Fortunate Encounters (The Sign Series Book 1)

by Caterina Passarelli

  “Are you jealous?”

  This guy never knows when to shut up.

  “No, for the last time, I’m not jealous. But I am calling off our … whatever it was we were going to do for one night. That’s never going to happen.”

  I want to skirt around him to get to the door, but his massive frame blocks me in. He steps closer and brings his hand up to brush the hair off my face. Just as he’s leaning in to kiss me, I idiotically pucker my lips; instead, he avoids my mouth altogether and whispers in my ear, “You’ll regret that decision. And, for the record, that’s my sister out there. Stop being jealous; it’s not attractive.”

  Clark leaves the bathroom just as quickly as he entered it.

  When he’s gone, my knees buckle out from underneath me and I grab the sink to hold myself steady. We didn’t even kiss and he’s left me in such a confused, turned on state.

  How is he capable of doing this to me?

  And why am I actually jealous?

  A Labrador dashes through the hallway with a pair of underwear in his mouth.

  “Shadow! Drop those panties!” my sister screams as she chases behind the brown dog. “Why aren’t you listening?” She’s now doing laps around the kitchen table—around and around they go.

  Charlotte, my five-year-old niece, claps her hands in excitement as she laughs at the scene unfolding. I can’t help but laugh too.

  Nate, my brother-in-law, walks out of his home office and puts himself in the line of both Shadow and Samantha. The three crash into each other and fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs and paws.

  “Got them!” Samantha shouts. From the bottom of the pile, she sticks her hand into the air holding a pair of red panties. “Victory is mine!”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to babysit all three of you? I’m nervous that there are no adults running this zoo.”

  “Ha-ha,” Samantha says, picking herself up off the floor and brushing off her clothes. “Give me two minutes to finish getting ready and we are out the door.”

  Charlotte and I shoot each other stares like we don’t believe her, but Samantha pulls it together. She kisses us both goodbye, and the happy couple flies out the door and far, far away from the craziness they are leaving behind with me.

  How I end up babysitting my niece while Samantha and Nate go on a date is beyond me. Normally we do things together as a little family, not them leaving me solo.

  “Aunt Jules, you be Barbie and I’ll be …” she searches around through her humongous toy box, “this Barbie!”

  She waves a naked doll around in the air, holding it by her long blonde hair. It’s a rat nest that needs to be combed. Poor Barbie, she’s being manhandled by a bossy kid.

  “So we are both going to be Barbie? Shouldn’t one of us be one of the other dolls?” I wave my hand over her toy box, which has every doll you can imagine. I’ve got my eye on the Elsa doll from Frozen, but I don’t make a move for it.

  “No.” And that’s all she says. I wish I had enough balls to say no and mean it like Charlotte. She reminds me of Eve.

  “We are going to have a wedding!” Charlotte practically falls into her toy box as she digs around. Throwing toys, doll clothes, and tiny plastic shoes over her shoulder, I dodge everything left and right. “Found it!”

  Out of the toy box, she shoves a Barbie wedding gown at me.

  “Who is getting married?” I ask with caution—sometimes my questions set her off. You have to tread lightly when dealing with a kid, or so I’ve learned the hard way.

  “Barbie is, duh, Aunt Jules,” Charlotte says, rolling her big, beautiful blue eyes. She is a striking little girl who looks exactly like her mother and my mother. I’m the only brunette in this family. “Put her dress on her.”

  “What do you say?” I can’t believe I just mimicked my mom.

  Charlotte smiles a sly grin, knowing exactly what she’s supposed to say, but testing my limits. She waits a moment as we stare each other down in silence.

  “Please,” she says sweetly while batting her eyelashes.

  And just like that I become her bitch. I put the wedding gown on Barbie, and we find an Ariel doll to dress as a bridesmaid and a Ken as the groom. Looking around her room, I grab a few objects to set the scene. If we are going to have a wedding, we are going all out.

  With a makeshift chapel in place, it’s go time. Grabbing my cellphone, I find just the right music for our bride to walk her plastic feet down the aisle to her always smiling Ken.

  “Ready?” I look at my niece who’s observing the scene with a keen eye. Something is not right; I can see it in her expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think …” she grabs both Barbie and Ariel, “they both should marry Ken! I don’t have another wedding dress though.” She looks heartbroken as she pouts her bottom lip out as far as it will go.

  “Well … only one woman should marry Ken,” I say, hoping to make the situation better.

  Charlotte’s hand goes to her hip as she towers over me while I sit on the floor. “Why only one?”

  “Because that’s how it works. One person marries one person.”

  Trying to be as politically correct as I can be—I don’t want to be responsible for my niece needing therapy because I scar her with incorrect information.

  “But Barbie and Ariel need to get married. They both need to kiss Ken and be happy.”

  Hold up. Where did she get this idea? Marriage does not equal happiness. I know plenty of married couples who hate one another, who cheat, who speak badly of their spouse, who wish they were with someone else.

  Patting the ground at my side, I invite Charlotte to sit down beside me. I really hope I can find the right words to connect with a five-year-old.

  “Barbie is already happy. Ariel is happy. Ken is happy. They don’t need to get married to be happy. When they find that one special person, they’ll get married. And if they want to be on their own … maybe with their friends and family … they can do that too.”

  “Aunt Jules, are you happy?”

  The question sends shockwaves down my body.

  Before I can answer her, she gets bored and starts the wedding.

  More directions are shouted, and just like a good Aunt would, I do exactly as she orders.

  But it doesn’t escape me that a five-year-old is the first person to ask me if I’m happy. And that’s why I don’t hang out with little kids—they can see right through you. I’ll stick with my crazy teenagers.

  8

  Clark

  Karyn is sitting next to me, sending me side-eye glares. What did I do to piss her off? This is the first time I’ve seen her all day and it’s only Monday.

  “What’s your problem?” I ask, through gritted teeth.

  Today is an award breakfast reception for New York City businesses and schools. Chambers & Company is being awarded the Colonna Medal of Philanthropy for our charitable donations to the city. Usually I send Karyn in my place to everything. However, she told me I had to come to this particular event. Apparently, a medal is a big deal. I’d still rather be in my office.

  Sitting around the room are people representing multi-million dollar companies, thriving startups, and education representatives. Everyone is small talking and blowing smoke up each other’s asses—I hate this shit.

  “Look a little happier, Clark,” Karyn says, kicking me in the shin under the table. Fuck, that actually hurt.

  “Maybe you should have another cup of coffee,” I say, taking the liberty to fill up her cup. “Something has gotten into you.”

  She looks as if she’s about to lash out when she’s interrupted by the host of today’s event. Local news reporter, Maryanne Marvin, takes the stage and kicks this thing off in a boisterous tone.

  Award after award is handed out until it’s time for me to go up on stage to represent Chambers & Co. When my dad was still in charge we’d never get an award like this. Charity work was the last thing on his to-do list. That list consisted of two things �
� making money and making more money.

  As I get up from my table, the room erupts into applause. On stage I say a quick thank you to the organization and hold my gold medal up in the air. I’m not one for big speeches or the limelight. Just as I’m about to walk off the stage, I spot her in the audience looking ravishing … Juliette.

  The mysterious look on her face leads me to believe she’s questioning why an asshole like me would be getting the biggest humanitarian award in the city. When she can’t take much more of my stare, she looks down at the plate in front of her.

  After the rest of the awards are passed out, it’s time to “network.” I fucking hate that word … I normally would make my escape, but today fortunately, I have a woman to encounter.

  “We need to stop meeting like this,” I say, approaching Juliette’s table.

  It seems as if everyone, except Juliette, stares at me with wide eyes and open mouths. There’s a sign on the center of the table that reads Riverside Academy—these must be her coworkers.

  This should be fun.

  “Juliette, you are being rude for not introducing your friend,” one of the women says with a teasing smile.

  “This is Clark. Clark, these are the women I work with at Riverside,” Juliette says hastily. She barely maintains eye contact with me.

  All of the women briefly introduce themselves. They seem very sweet, yet I bet they can quickly turn into wild animals if left unattended for too long.

  Before I can tease Juliette, my sassy assistant joins us.

  “I’m sorry to pull him away,” Karyn says smiling kindly, putting her hand on my arm, “but Clark is needed at a very important meeting, and we are already late.”

  That’s the excuse she uses whenever I need to get out of a situation. No one ever argues with Karyn or with a man being dragged out of a room.

  “It’s okay. Let’s stay for a few more minutes,” I say.

  Karyn looks stunned. “Oh, okay, whatever you say boss.” In the history of us working together, I’ve never stayed anywhere. I love being the first to leave, and she knows it.

  “So what can you ladies tell me about Juliette?”

  “She’s one of the best teachers we have,” Grace says with a wide smile. “She’s the reason we are here today. She runs our charitable organization board and gets the kids involved. Our students love her just as much as we do.”

  Juliette’s face turns red while Grace goes on and on.

  “Okay, enough about me,” Juliette says, waving her hand in the air to get our attention. “We don’t want to hold you up for your meeting.”

  She’s caught on to the trickery that Karyn and I are pulling. No one has ever called me out on it before.

  “How do you two know each other?” Lauren asks. Curiosity burns in her eyes as she stares between us both. Clearly she’s not allowing Juliette to cut off our conversation.

  “We meet at a bar when we were looking for someone who …”

  Juliette cuts me off before I can finish my sentence. “I accidentally sat down at his table while I was supposed to be on a date with someone else.”

  She went with the truth. That’s no fun. The threesome story would have been much better, especially with this crowd.

  “Oh, you’re the hunk?” Lauren asks.

  Karyn busts out into a fit of laughter. “The hunk!” She punches my arm and continues to laugh as if that’s the funniest thing she’s heard.

  “So you’ve talked about me?” I say, eyeing Juliette who hasn’t lost the red color to her normally porcelain cheeks.

  “I may have mentioned the date mishap,” she says, shrugging her shoulders and looking down at her empty plate.

  I’m under her skin. I know it and I love it.

  Karyn hasn’t stopped laughing as I shoot her a look to knock it the fuck off. What’s so funny about me being a hunk?

  “Well, it truly was nice meeting all of you. If you could do me a favor and tell Juliette to reconsider my business proposal, I would appreciate it.”

  The women all turn their heads toward Juliette whose mouth drops open with the mention of the proposal. It’s just the reaction I was hoping for. Staring at her open mouth, I can’t help but imagine it wrapped around my cock. Sucking and licking.

  She closes her mouth and squints her eyes at me, as if she can read my dirty mind.

  “Goodbye, ladies.” I nod my head and allow Karyn to lead me out of the building.

  When we are in the parking lot, Karyn asks, “What kind of business proposal are you talking about? I don’t know anything about this. Should I?”

  I laugh as I get into my car. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at the office.”

  Karyn’s mood seems to be uplifted. I never found out the reason she was mad. I’m grateful I just dodged that bullet. Thanks for that, Juliette.

  I wish I were in the room to see her talk her way out of this one.

  Juliette

  I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.

  He gets to joyfully waltz out of the Colonna Awards banquet after dropping a juicy bomb on my coworkers, as if it’s no big deal.

  Game on, Clark. Game on.

  “What is he talking about … business proposal? You didn’t mention that. You didn’t even mention that you spoke to him more than a few words when you were at the wrong table.” Lauren’s rambling thoughts are coming at me a million miles-per-minute.

  “And didn’t that guy look really familiar?” Eve asks.

  It dawns on me that we all spotted Clark out with his sister. I caused a big scene that night when I ran from our table and then faked a stomachache to go home early.

  “Yes! I know. He was on the cover of Forbes!” Maggie exclaims while pulling up the article on her phone.

  “That’s it!” Eve agrees. “Wow. Look at that list of accomplishments.”

  What does Forbes say about him?

  I’m insanely curious but I don’t glance over at the phone screen. I don’t want to express any extra interest in Clark or these crazy ladies will run wild with the notion that we should be together.

  “Well, you don’t have anything to say for yourself?” Grace turns the attention back on me.

  “He wanted to know if I could help organize a fundraiser for his company.” That’s the best I can come up with under all this pressure.

  “But he didn’t even know you were involved in charity work,” Eve chimes in.

  “He plays dumb a lot.”

  I know they don’t believe the garbage I’m spewing, but no one questions me further.

  After getting up from the table and walking around the room to network with the big names, I head toward the front door. That’s when a young waitress sprints up to me.

  “Juliette?” she asks.

  “Yes?”

  “I was instructed to give this to you.” She hands me a folded up white napkin. Once it’s safely in my hand, she takes off to get back to work.

  It’s not until I get into my car that I unfold the note.

  Last chance Princess.

  -C

  Underneath the scribbled words are a phone number. That cocky bastard doesn’t know when to take a hint.

  Flipping the napkin over and over in my hands, I don’t know why I just don’t throw it out. Why don’t I crumble it up into a little ball and toss it into the trash? Or better yet, use it to clean up a big mess.

  But I don’t do any of those things. I hold it in my hands staring at the number.

  Last chance.

  I turned him down multiple times now. Why doesn’t he offer his proposal to another girl? Some girls are open to these arrangements without any questions.

  Well, he was with his sister when I thought he was with another woman. Maybe he really isn’t a womanizer, like I think. But I won’t know the answer to that unless I ask him. Would he even bother to tell the truth? Some guys would surely continue their lie.

  Picking up my phone, I do something that even I think is nuts. I call his numb
er. It rings and rings and rings. Just as I’m about to hang up, because there’s not a chance in hell I’m leaving Clark a voicemail, he answers.

  “Chambers,” he says in a deep, abrupt tone.

  “Well hello to you too.”

  “Juliette?” Clark asks. He seems surprised.

  “Yes. Did you not want me to call you? You did leave me your number in a dramatic show.”

  Clark laughs. “Dramatic show? That was nothing. I’ll give you a dramatic show, if you want one.”

  I hope he can feel my eye roll through the phone.

  “I don’t even know what that means. It’s like you speak in perverted riddles.”

  Getting up from my couch, I walk around my living room. Hearing his voice does something to me. Puts me on edge. I need to walk this energy off. Rounding the coffee table, I circle into the kitchen.

  “Asking a waitress to give you a note is not dramatic. It was a simple solution. I needed to get you my number, and I didn’t think you wanted me to do that in front of your coworkers.”

  “Are you seeing anyone else?” The words escape my lips, and I can’t even believe I’ve said them. Obviously, I want to know the answer, but I didn’t think I would be asking like this—sounding so desperate. That can’t be a turn on.

  “Should I be?”

  “You aren’t supposed to answer a question with a question. That’s one of my biggest pet peeves.”

  I’m now doing squats and lunges around the apartment, mixing things up. By the end of this conversation, I’ll have buns of steel. Jane Fonda, eat your heart out.

  “What are your other pet peeves?” Clark asks. Even through the phone, I know he’s smiling. He gets a kick out of putting me through hell.

  He’s my biggest pet peeve at the moment.

  “You’ll just have to find out.” I take a different approach. Instead of letting him know he’s pushing my buttons, I’m going to be nice to him. This should throw him off. “You never answered my question?”

  He pauses for a minute. “About the other women? No, Juliette. If you want to have some fun, you’ll be the only one getting my attention.”