Fall for Him

by J.C. Valentine

  I can’t either. Well, I guess I can. How better to get your revenge on someone than to air their dirty laundry as publicly as possible?

  “Are you going to be okay? Because you’re kind of worrying me right now, and I feel like I should be doing something. Do you want me to call Mr. Scott for you?”

  Slowly, I shake my head. I don’t want Rebel here. It would just compound the situation. It’s bad enough that Darren has to see me like this, at my most vulnerable. I’d hate it if Rebel were to witness this. I want to be the strong, independent woman that he deserves. Hell, I want to be that woman for me. Weak is something that I’ve worked hard all my life not to be. I’ll be damned if one person ruins that. I might bend, but I can’t be broken that easily.

  Something inside of me takes over, an inner strength that refuses to be pushed down, and I shove to my feet. Startled, Darren jumps up, too. He watches me, unsure of what to make of the sudden change.

  “I’m going to need the number for the photographer Mr. Scott hired. Could you call up to his assistant, Tracy, and get the information, then forward it to my email?” I head for the door with Darren following right beside me. “Also, I’m leaving for the day. If anyone calls for me, just tell them I’m out sick.”

  “Okay, got it. What if Mr. Scott calls for you? What should I tell him?”

  “He won’t. He’s out for the day as well.”

  “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you? To get back at Jenna?” Darren asks, his mouth pinching with worry.

  Ignoring curious looks as I reach the elevator, I punch the down button with my thumb. Twice. “Even better,” I say with deadly calm that reaches every cell in my body. It’s a peaceful yet eager kind of feeling that thrums with energy just beneath the surface of my skin. When the doors open, I step inside, turning to face Darren. With a determined smile tugging at my lips, I tell him, “I’m going to do my job.”

  As the doors begin sliding closed, Darren grins. He knows just like I do that the best line of defense is a good offense. Jenna is so busy looking for the easy play that she never saw me coming. Bitch is about to get her ass mowed down on the one-yard line.

  Twenty-Three

  “These are fantastic. You did an amazing job.” I’m sitting in front of William Zephyr of Zephyr Studios and his computer. On the screen are several dozen shots of our client’s products from various angles and lighting. I never knew so much could be done for soaps and lotions, but Will has proved me wrong.

  Very wrong.

  I’d put in an order on the spot if the website was open for business, they’re that enticing. I’m suddenly very glad that I chose not to use the basket of products the company gave us. All it took was a few minutes’ drive home and here I am, getting the job done on my own. The self-gratified feeling is heady.

  “Thank you. Why don’t you scroll through them for me while I clean up. Ideally, I’d like for you to weed out about half, and then we can sit down together and mark the ones we think will work the best for the website.” Will walks away, leaving me to it while he begins putting the room back in order.

  “What happens after that?” I ask him as I click through the photos one by one. I already know a few that need to go and a few that absolutely have to stay.

  “Then I’ll send the proofs over and wait for final say.”

  Propping my chin in my hand, I spend the next half hour weeding through the photos, trying to decide between them all. Being in this studio today gave me another angle to consider when it comes to my degree. Photography is just another form of art, and Will’s dedication is inspiring, but as the saying goes, the devil is in the details. And sorting these pictures is possibly the most boring part of the job.

  “How’s it going over here?” Will asks when he returns.

  “Not too bad. I have to hand it to you, you’re really amazing at what you do.”

  Will smirks, a faint blush staining his cheeks. “You already said that.”

  “Then it bears repeating. It’s so hard to choose. I love them all.”

  Taking over the mouse, Will and I finish out the rest of the hour choosing the best shots to send back to the company. It’s the end of the work day when I finally leave his studio. I smile inwardly as I walk back to my car, my thoughts on Jenna. If she was pissed off about me going to Rebel before, she’s going to shit a brick when she finds out that I handpicked the photos, cutting her out of the process completely.

  It’s no less than she would have done with me, I’m sure of it. So I don’t feel the least bit guilty for going behind her back.

  Fishing my keys out of my purse, I approach my car. I don’t notice the well-dressed dark figure waiting for me until I hear my name.

  “Josephine. What the hell are you doing here, alone, on this side of town?”

  I gasp, startled. My hand flies up to my mouth, and my purse slips from the crook of my elbow, dropping to the ground. “Holy shit, Rebel!” Great. Everything in my purse is spilled across the chipped and crumbling asphalt. Bending down, I hastily scoop it back inside.

  “Why aren’t you at work?” Rebel’s dark shadow reaches me first, and then he is kneeling down in front of me, helping to pick up the last of my purse’s contents.

  “I was working,” I say flatly.

  “Out here? You’re two miles in the opposite direction of the office. What could you possibly be working on out here?”

  Standing, I loop my purse over my shoulder. Beyond Rebel, I see his shiny black town car waiting. What the hell is he doing out here, is what I feel like asking him. Instead, I point to the white brick building behind me. “That’s the photography studio you asked your assistant to hire for the bath soaps job. I just got done doing a session with the owner. We picked out some really nice photos for the website. He’ll be sending them back to your office by tomorrow morning. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  Rebel looks past me, his dark eyes glinting in the afternoon sun. “You came out here for that?”

  “Well, someone had to, and I couldn’t be in the office anymore today,” I mutter. Just thinking about having to go back tomorrow and face that woman sours my stomach. Conflict and I just don’t get along, but I’ll have to deal with the problem one way or another.

  “Why? Did something happen?” Rebel’s shrewd gaze scans down the length of my body as though looking for some obvious signs of harm. I love that he’s concerned for me. It’s such a turnaround from where we started.

  “Nothing I can’t handle myself. So, what brings you all the way out here?” I ask him, hoping to change the topic to something other than me.

  “I called the office to check on you, but your man friend informed me that you’d left for the day. It only took a few phone calls to figure out you were here.”

  “So of course you had to come,” I say not even bothering to withhold my sarcasm.

  “Of course.”

  “You don’t have to check up on me, you know. I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.”

  “I never said that you couldn’t.” Reaching out, Rebel takes my hand—the one holding my car keys—and leads me back to my car. To the passenger side, to be exact.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as he opens the door and gently pushes me toward it.

  “Driving you home.”

  “Driving—wait. What?” He’s not serious. “Do you even have a license?”

  His midnight eyes cut a sidelong look at me. “Of course I do.”

  He says this with such offence that I raise my hands in surrender. “I was just asking. I’ve just never seen you drive before.”

  “Well, as with everything I do, I’m phenomenal at it.” A sly smile spread across his face leaving no room for mistaking his meaning. “Now get your ass in the car. This isn’t the place to stand around talking.”

  I do as he says. From the window, I watch as Rebel rounds the back of the car and heads over to the driver’s side of his. The window rolls down and Rebel leans forward to say something
to Gerardo. After a moment, he heads back, giving me a few short seconds to admire him.

  The navy jacket Rebel left in this morning is missing, leaving him in a white and blue pinstripe button down. He’s rolled the sleeves up, revealing strong, tanned forearms—my favorite look, hands down. The shirt is tucked into a pair of pressed navy slacks that conform to his lean but solid thighs, showing off a trim waist and what I know to be an incredibly firm and sexy ass.

  By the time he reaches the car, I’m practically vibrating with desire. As soon as he drops down into the driver’s seat, I lean over, taking him by surprise as I cup his jaw and turn his face toward mine.

  His eyes are round when they meet mine, but he catches on quickly and I see them soften just before he catches the back of my head and pulls me in the rest of the way, crushing our lips together. The kiss starts out furious and full of passion, our teeth knocking together as we devour each other. Then it steadily slows, winding down until our mouths merely brush against one another’s. When I pull away, we’re both breathing heavily.

  “What was that for?” Rebel asks, giving me a curious look.

  “You looked too sexy not to.”

  That dangerous look flashes in his eyes again, and I feel an answering twinge between my legs. I know what he’s thinking because I’m thinking the same thing. When we get home—whoever’s home that happens to be—it’s on. We’ll be lucky if either of us can walk straight in the morning.

  My good mood takes an abrupt nosedive as soon as Rebel sticks the key in the ignition and my pos rages to life. It used to be my baby, my pride and joy. It was never the greatest to look at, even when it was new to me, but I put a lot of time into maintaining it, and it’s been good to me.

  Seeing Rebel behind the wheel in his expensive designer suit, however, is a stark reminder of where the two of us started out in life. He’s used to having money and power. I, on the other hand, have had to carve out my path in life and, like this car, it hasn’t always been pretty.

  A twinge of shame wends its way through me, and I suck my lip between my teeth, biting down as I stare straight ahead out the windshield.

  Reversing out of the parking spot, Rebel turns us north, back toward the heart of the city with Gerardo tailing us.

  “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden. Thinking about what I’m going to do to you when we reach your place?”

  Summoning a smile, I tell him, “Ah, you know me so well.”

  Rebel’s gaze finds mine briefly, but it’s enough for him to pick out the lie. “What’s wrong?”

  Turning away, I focus on the road ahead. “Just thinking about work.”

  He considers that for a moment before rejecting it. “No, it’s more than that. Tell me.”

  “It’s nothing, really,” I assure him. “I’m just in my head today.”

  “A few minutes ago you had your tongue down my throat and were practically climbing into my lap. Now you’re withdrawn.”

  “Can you stop analyzing me for once, please?” I huff, annoyed that he won’t just let it go.

  “Not until I know you’re fine.”

  “I am fine.”

  “Josephine,” he says, his voice thick with warning. “You know how I feel about lying.”

  There are about a dozen words I want to say to him right now, most of them consisting of four letters. All of them something that would warrant having a bar of soap shoved in my mouth. It takes a few tries before I can utter anything even remotely appropriate for human ears. “I don’t feel comfortable with you driving my car.”

  Rebel shoots me a confused look. “Is this about my license? Do you need me to get it out and show you so you’ll actually believe me?”

  “No, this isn’t about your damn license,” I snap. Although, in hindsight, I probably should have just rolled with that excuse and moved on so I wouldn’t have to further humiliate myself.

  “Then what? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Just... ugh!” I throw my hands up, my words choking off with a sudden wave of emotion.

  “Is this a woman thing?” Rebel asks warily, causing me to laugh out loud and him to look at me like I’ve just lost my mind.

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with my period,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “You won’t have to worry about that for another...” I count back in my head...only to realize that I can’t remember the last time I got my cycle.

  Shit. When was it? My heart begins to race as I count the days on the calendar. Then count them again. Three times. Reaching down, I pull my purse up from the floorboard and take out the plastic container containing my birth control pills. A quick count shows that everything is okay, they’ve all been taken. I breathe a small—very, very small—sigh of relief because the little voice in my head is reminding me that nothing is one hundred percent.

  It damn well needs to be, though. I can’t afford a mistake like having a baby with a man who is dead set against monogamy.

  “For another what?” From the urgency in his voice, I assume that’s not the first time Rebel’s asked that question. “Are you late?”

  I do a quick mental check before answering him. Do I feel sick? Tired? Crampy? No, no, and no. I actually feel pretty good, all things considered. “Yes, but I don’t think it means anything,” I rush to say.

  Rebel isn’t eased in the least. “Jesus fucking Christ! Are you telling me that you might be pregnant?”

  The scenery outside the car begins whipping by faster and faster, and before I know it, we’re back in the city. Going way too damn fast.

  “Slow down, please.” Reaching across the center console, I set my hand on Rebel’s thigh and squeeze gently. “Please.”

  Slowly, his foot eases off the pedal and we return to a normal speed. Rebel’s phone is buzzing against the seat from his back pocket. I’m betting it’s Gerardo wondering what the hell just happened.

  “This can’t be happening,” Rebel says to himself. He takes a corner too fast, forcing me to hold onto the door handle to keep from falling over.

  “It’s not. Just calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to fucking calm the fuck down,” Rebel growls. The heel of his hand comes down hard on the steering wheel. “Shit! I knew I should have worn a fucking condom. Dammit!”

  “I’m on the pill,” I remind him, not that it’s going to do much good. He’s clearly on a rampage now. That’s another difference between us—how we handle stress. Rebel is all physical, ready to punch something, while I internalize, thinking carefully over every detail while silently freaking the hell out.

  “Like it fucking matters? Ninety-nine percent effective, Josephine. Not one hundred. Fuck!”

  He hits the steering wheel again. His outburst makes me jump, rattling me. “Could you calm the hell down for a damn minute?” I gnash my teeth, trying desperately not to yell back so we don’t end up in a screaming match that goes nowhere. “Nothing is certain. In fact, I’m pretty damn positive that I’m not pregnant and that it’s just a fluke. That happens sometimes, you know.”

  “I want you to make an appointment with your doctor, now.”

  Rebel’s phone lands in my lap. I stare at it. “Or we could just swing by a drugstore and buy a test.”

  “Those things are worthless. I’m not taking any chances on false positives or any other bullshit like that,” he says fiercely.

  I feel the frown on my face deepen. He’s so stubborn, but I decide to give him what he wants to avoid any further conflict. “Fine, if it’s that important to you, then I’ll schedule something.”

  Swinging into a parking spot outside my building, Rebel throws the car into park then looks at me expectantly. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  I hand him his phone back instead. “I’ll call when I’m ready.” Not a minute before. When it comes to someone like Rebel, a person has to work to keep their independence. I recognized early on that if I let him, Rebel would rule every aspect of my life until there’s nothing left. Not necessar
ily because he wanted to, but because his personality is just that strong. While I don’t mind it in some regards, it’s still my life, and I refuse to give up all authority just to smooth his ruffled feathers.

  Tossing the phone back in his lap, I open the door and step out. Rebel isn’t far behind. Already rounding the bumper, he has fire in his eyes as he approaches. “Dammit, Josephine, this isn’t a fucking game.”

  “I completely agree with you, but don’t expect to bark orders at me and have me follow. I’m not a lap dog, Rebel. I’m a partner in this relationship, and I deserve equal say.”

  That stops him in his tracks. With his breath rushing from between his parted lips, for once, it seems that Rebel is at a loss for words. Bringing his hands up to his head, he scrapes his fingers through his hair. “This is fucking perfect. Just what I need right now,” he snarls. His glare can’t be rivaled as he hands my keys back to me. “I’m out of here.”

  I watch him march across the lot toward his waiting car. “Where are you going, Rebel?” I shout.

  “I can’t deal with this right now,” he calls over his shoulder. Just before he disappears into the backseat, he turns those coal black eyes on me. “Make the call.”

  I watch him drive off. It’s the first time since we’ve begun dating that he’s been the one to leave first. A small, sad twinge pinches in my chest as I turn to head inside. If ever a woman needed proof that she shouldn’t have a baby with a man, this would be it.

  Twenty-Four

  “Did you hear about Miss Townsend?”

  The greeting smile I’m wearing fades at Darren’s hushed question as he rushes toward me the next morning. “No, what about her?” Did a long lost enemy beat her ass the way I’d like to do? One can only hope!

  “Well, it’s just a rumor right now, but word is that she’s been fired. I didn’t even know an owner could be fired from their own company.”