by Emily Bishop
Like I should be. Not checking out my assistant’s ass every ten minutes.
Kieran has no business flirting with her. An uncomfortable feeling boils up in my stomach at the thought, and I don’t want to admit to myself that a small part of that might be jealousy.
In fact, that’s ridiculous.
Yes, Sasha is attractive. She’s also driven me nuts since the day she started, and she knows nothing about my world or what it takes to survive in it. I can tell she’s green, new to the city, hoping for some great big break. It’s written all over her face.
She’s got some work to do to convince me she’s capable of surviving in the tech world. For now, she can get coffee and file. I look up at the sound of the drawer closing, and Sasha turns back to look down at me.
I bet she likes having the high ground. She would.
She’s nothing like Angel.
“All set. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Knight?”
I love the way she says “Mr. Knight.” I imagine a vast number of things she could do for me, preferably on her knees, but I repress that chain of thought before it goes too far.
“That will be all. Thank you, Miss Ellis.”
She nods and promptly makes her exit. My traitorous gaze follows the sway of her perfectly round hips. What I wouldn’t give to sink my teeth right into that skin…
This reminds me that I have a discussion to have with Kieran. I pick up my phone and dial his cell, knowing that he’s never in his office.
“Bo!” he says, ever jovial. “Fancy hearing from you. I almost thought you were mad at me a while ago.”
“I am mad at you. Are you near the office?”
“Yes, I’m in my office diligently working away, duh. Why?”
“Get in here.”
I hang up the phone. He doesn’t deserve the chance to respond. I sit back in my chair and glare into the room, seeing none of it. Within a minute, Kieran is at my door. His smile is broad. He never takes me seriously.
Drives me fucking nuts sometimes.
“Close the door, please,” I say.
“Uh-oh. I must really be in trouble,” Kieran replies. He does as I ask, closing the portal behind him before he sits before me, as he always does. I stare him down. I want him to squirm beneath my glare like everyone else does, but I know that won’t work with Kieran.
It feels good to glare at him anyway.
“You do understand that we live in a day and age where sexual harassment is taken very seriously,” I state.
“I am aware. Thanks for checking. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that I have a new assistant who looked pretty uncomfortable with your advances on her this morning. We are not going to get a reputation for being an unsafe work environment. I need you to watch your behavior around here. Keep it professional, and stop making unwanted advances on women in this office!”
“How do you know she was uncomfortable? Since when have you been capable of reading human emotions?”
“Since now. Stop questioning me and do as I ask. This is serious, Kieran. I want you to treat it as such.”
Kieran lifts his hand in a placating gesture. “OK, OK. Boundary crossed. I get it. Let’s talk about something more entertaining, like profits. I’ve been going over some numbers in my office, and we should hit our quota this quarter. By launching the new app a few weeks before the big day of love, we should be able to make a killing, if we market it right.”
“Sounds good.”
“Did you get an account?”
I’ve been waiting for this question. Kieran has always taken an active interest in my love life, like a fool. No matter how many times I tell him that love is a farce, he thinks that I’m putting up a front, that no one can ever really believe that. I don’t have the time to explain myself to him, so I simply continually prove him wrong.
It works for us.
“Yes, I did.”
He grins and leans forward. “Did you get paired with someone? Do you have more than one match? Or is there a woman in the world who is compatible with you? Probably not. None of the women on that app want sex a la carte with no emotions attached. Did you put that as your relationship style on your profile?”
His words come out in an excited rush. This is part of the reason I hesitated to create an account in the first place. Beyond that, Angel is something special, something secret that belongs to me and only me. I’m not going to tell someone like Kieran about her, for Christ’s sake.
“The test is going well. I’ve managed to go through the beginning phase of the process, trying out the chat feature as well as answering a few of the questions. It works effectively.”
“Effectively as in you’re falling in love?” Kieran asks as he wiggles his eyebrows.
“Get out.”
Kieran’s eyebrows stay at the crest of his hairline. “Oh my god, you are. You like the person you’re talking to!”
“I’m not going to entertain your ridiculous notions. Stop holding out hope for me. You’re wasting your time.”
“And yet, you’ve never once been prickly about a woman.”
“I’m prickly about everything. It’s what balances our friendship out.”
“Yeah, but normally you don’t care.”
“Are you going to stop pushing, or do I have to delete the app and have no understanding of my product just to prove a useless point?”
Kieran laughs and stands. “Fine, but I’m going to keep tabs on this little interlude. I want regular updates and a wedding invitation.”
“I will have security escort you out. I’ve done it before.”
Kieran’s laughter rings through my office. “Yeah, you did, asshole. All right, I’m out of here, but don’t think I won’t be doing my research on you.”
“I’m shaking in my boots. Did I say get out already, or do I need to say it again?”
“Naw, you’ve made your point. Besides, there’s a girl I’m thinking about asking out on a date. Gotta go make some plans.”
“If you do anything inappropriate…” I growl. I don’t get a chance to finish, because Kieran saunters out of the office with a sarcastic wave behind his back.
Anger rushes through me. He has to be talking about Sasha. I don’t want him messing with her. Obviously because it’s impossible to find a good assistant these days.
I stand and open the file cabinet to evaluate her work. The previous assistant organized them in some weird system, but Sasha reworked it so that it makes way more sense. I can easily find what I need now instead of sifting around or making someone else do it for me.
Hmm. Perhaps Sasha does have some promise, after all. Time will tell.
I turn and glance back at my phone. I miss Angel. It’s a new sensation for me. I’ve never really missed a woman in my life. It’s curious, and I’m not certain I’m comfortable with it either. It doesn’t stop me from taking a seat and unlocking the app. No message from her.
Bummer.
“You there?” I type.
God, when did I become some desperate school boy? I stare at the screen as though I can will her to chat. When I see the icon showing her writing, my stomach tingles.
Butterflies? Seriously?
I might actually be a schoolgirl. I take it back.
“Always,” she says. “What’s up?”
I look across the room through my glass door at the main floor of the office. Around me, people are working away steadily, preparing for the launch of our new product. All except Kieran, who is likely trying to find a way to crack into my conversations, so he can read them and accuse me of falling for Angel.
I wonder if that’s possible. I make a mental note to check after this. We’ll want to protect the privacy of our clients as much as possible, of course. And me. If I can’t protect myself from Kieran, I don’t deserve to run this company.
“Do you ever feel like you can’t trust your friends?” I ask.
She hesitates, then types in her answer. “Tha
t question is a little complicated. I didn’t have too many friends growing up, mostly just my siblings and later my coworkers. Is it one friend, or many?”
I wish I could relate to her. Siblings, ha. What that would have been like, to be friends with a brother or sister? I will never, ever know what that feels like.
Fine by me.
“Just one,” I write back. “Actually, the only friend I’ve ever had. He drives me nuts, but we’ve only ever had each other, so I can’t exactly kick him off the ship. He’s also my business partner. That complicates things, too.”
“It sounds like work dominates a lot of your life,” she observes.
“To be honest, the only reason my friend is still in my life is because we work together. I’ve been working all my life, to the point where I’ve never had much of a social life, including friends. It’s been a part of who I am since I can remember.”
“I can relate to that. I’ve been working almost every day for the past few years to get to where I am now. Success doesn’t come to those who sit around on their butts, right?”
I chuckle. That’s one way to put it.
“No, it doesn’t. I imagine you must be quite fun to work with.”
“Ha!” she counters. “I’m not so sure. The people I work with don’t seem very impressed with me so far, but I’m going to prove them wrong. I’m going to be one of the greatest successes my town has ever seen. I’ll be a local celebrity when I come home for the holidays, just wait and see!”
“For all I know, you already are a celebrity, wearing a disguise so that you can meet someone normal who will like you for who you are.”
“You got me. Now you’ll simply have to guess which famous person I am. Perhaps I can give you a hint? I’m very rotund with a balding head, and I’ve been dead for several years. Also, I starred in the Godfather.”
I chuckle again.
“Ah, I always wanted to fall in love with Marlon Brando. You were so dreamy in A Streetcar Named Desire. I should tell you though that I really only like women, so this relationship might not work.”
“Damn. And here I was thinking we were really hitting it off.”
A knock and my door opens again. Christ, can’t I get a moment’s peace? “Mr. Knight? I’m back from the drycleaner with your suit, sir. Also you have a few messages I picked up at the front desk.” Lucy says.
I look up from my phone. Work to be done. Things to accomplish.
“Thanks, Miss Shone. I’ll take care of it.”
She nods and sets the messages on my desk before she steps back out without another word. I turn back to my phone.
“Duty calls,” I write. “Talk later?”
“I hope so,” she writes back, and a warmth creeps across my chest.
For the first time in my life, it’s hard to focus on work. All I can think about is when I can next talk to my Angel.
I wonder if she’s feeling this, too, or if I’m just a total fucking moron.
Chapter Seven
Sasha
Merlot. Definitely merlot tonight.
I spent the rest of the day waiting for a message from Master and working to distract myself from checking my phone. It worked, generally. I managed to get through the paperwork I’d printed out the day before. I’ve made many edits to the text with suggestions based on my own experience with the app.
Now I just have to figure out how to bring it up to Booker.
I wonder if he approved of my filing style. The previous person clearly had no organization skills whatsoever, which makes me a little more confident in my place at the company, but not by much. I’ve always worried my whole life about not being good enough.
I never really felt that way entirely until I met Booker Knight. Every time he looks down at me with that critical expression of his, I want to crawl behind my desk and hide. I also want to reach up and kiss his perfectly sculpted mouth.
It’s a complex series of emotions. I remember that he is my boss, and those kinds of thoughts are inappropriate. That still hasn’t stopped me from admiring his butt in his perfectly custom-made pants every time he walks away.
I bet he doesn’t hold a candle to Master, though.
I frown. I still don’t know what Master looks like. Perhaps the beauty of this app is that when we reach the end of our road, we really won’t care anymore. We’ll be happy just to be with and see one another.
I hope that’s how this ends.
I’ve become so invested in this, it scares me a little. I don’t want to like Master as much as I do, but I can’t help myself. I tell myself that he is a character, playing a part in an online world. It’s so much easier to play a role online, to fake things. To catfish. How do I know he is the same to speak with in person as he is on the app? He’s told me himself that he finds this medium freeing, easier to talk in.
What if we meet, and I can’t hold a real conversation with him?
I pour a healthy glass of red wine into an old black and white coffee mug that says Pennsylvania is for cow lovers! It’s one of my favorite mugs, mostly because it can fit the perfect amount of either coffee or wine. I sink into my sofa and stare out my window. A few errant snowflakes flutter from the sky, disappearing as they land on hard metal and concrete.
I sip my wine and think about Master when my phone gives me that telltale sign.
Master is here!
Butterflies erupt in my stomach as I pick up my phone and check to see his message.
“Good evening, beautiful. How are you tonight?”
“How do you know I’m beautiful? You’ve never seen my face,” I say.
It’s true. Is he just a flatterer? Also, why is it working, anyway? Couldn’t tell you, really.
“I’ve seen your soul, exposed here on the screen of my phone. Naked and perfect.”
The fact that he’s alluding to the fact that he’s pictured me naked warms my cheeks.
“I’d say you’ve only scratched the surface. There’s quite a bit we haven’t talked about during our interludes,” I point out.
“You are absolutely correct. Tonight we should open up a new topic to get to know one another better.”
“I agree. You’ve never told me much about your family or where you come from. Why don’t we start there?”
“Why don’t you tell me more about your family, and then I’ll take my turn second,” he says.
Strange. Why doesn’t he want to talk about his family? Lucky for him, I have no qualms about gabbing when it comes to my own.
“Fair enough,” I reply. “I am one of six, which I think I’ve told you already. Three sisters, two brothers. My sisters were always super competitive with me, since I was the youngest. Or maybe I was competitive with them, and they rose to the challenge. Tough to say, really. I’ve spent my whole life being the youngest child, which means I’ve never really felt good enough.”
I send my message out and hold my breath. It’s not something I’ve admitted to a lot of people, but I trust Master, oddly enough. I shouldn’t. I don’t even know his real name. That adds to the fun of it all in the end, though, doesn’t it? I see him replying and take a nice gulp of wine while I await his response.
“That must have been hard, living in the shadows of five other people. Are they successful?”
I laugh. Depends on whom you ask, really.
“In a way. For our small town, they are. They are married, they run a solid business, they have children they can provide for. Where I’m from, that is success. I can’t compete with that, so I know I can never really go back there and feel comfortable about it. My success lies here in the city, on my own terms.”
“Interesting how success can be defined in so many different ways. It’s all relative, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I reply. “I suppose the ultimate goal is happiness, but everyone defines happiness in different ways. My sisters would never be happy living here in the city, working their way up the ladder. On the other hand, I could never imagine being content spending th
e rest of my days doing the same thing forever.”
“That sounds like a total nightmare to me,” Master agrees, and I toast an invisible glass in the air.
“Hear, hear. None of this means I love my family any less. They were a major part of my childhood and my upbringing. I wouldn’t be who I am today without them.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should feel guilty about not wanting to go back. It’s OK to be the black sheep, you know. They have the best-colored wool.”
I chuckle. “I’m not a black sheep. I’m just the prodigal child… who will never make it back, permanently, anyway.”
“I think that’s great. Family is entirely overrated.”
I am insatiably curious now. I open up the screen to ask him a picture-revealing question and type it in.
“What was your childhood like?”
There is a long pause before I see him type. I lean back and enjoy the warm burn as I drink my wine and it slides down my throat. When the phone beeps his response, I lift it back up to read.
“Terrible. My mother abandoned me on a street corner when I was ten. I was placed within the system, passed from one foster family to the next. What they say is true—it’s a nightmare going through that. So many families just want the money. Others think they’ll be able to love you, but when it comes down to it, they just can’t. It’s not in them to do it.”
Tears well in my eyes as I read. All I can see is a child, scared and alone on the corner of a New York street, wondering where his mother went. I want to hold him in my arms and take care of him myself, give him the childhood every kid deserves. I brush a tear aside and continue reading.
“I made it until I was sixteen, then got a lucky break. That friend I told you about, he and I got into some bad things—kids from the street usually do—but he wasn’t actually from the street. He was a rich kid trying to rebel. His parents eventually took me in and helped me catch up with my education. I wouldn’t be a success without them.”