Connectivity

by Aven Ellis

  “In my defense, I have only been home 24 hours. I spent most of yesterday getting settled, doing laundry, and sleeping. And I was there on business,” I say firmly. “I wasn’t there on vacation.”

  But I know that is complete bullshit. Because in reality, I feel like London belongs to me and William and I don’t want to share that experience with anyone but him.

  Reese leans across the table. “Did you sleep with Cumberland?” she asks in a low voice.

  “No!” I snap, my cheeks burning. “And his name is William.”

  Emily’s eyes flash with recognition. “You kissed him!”

  I don’t say anything.

  “You did!” Emily cries.

  “MK, what are you doing? He’s your boss. He’s the owner of a world-wide global empire!” Reese says. “This . . . this is completely out of character for you!”

  I stare at my best friends. I should be able to tell them anything. I should be able to tell them about William but I can’t. I just can’t. Because what I have with William is so private, so undefined . . . and it belongs to us, to me and William. I feel protective of what we have, because it is new and just beginning. I’m not ready to share it with anyone, even Emily and Reese.

  “I know William is my boss,” I say slowly. “But trust me when I say I am really happy.”

  Suddenly Reese lets out an exasperated sigh. “MK, you aren’t seeing this clearly! I mean, we both know he must have given you that Tiffany bracelet,” she says, gesturing to my left wrist.

  I immediately remove my hand from the table and rest it in my lap. I protectively run my fingers over each charm, as if guarding that night from Emily and Reese’s eyes.

  “That is not a casual gift,” Reese continues. “That is at least a $2,000 bracelet!”

  Okay, I have been patient until now. But now I am starting to get mad.

  “William,” I say slowly, trying to keep my voice even, “wanted me to have something special from London.”

  “It looks like a mistress gift!” Emily blurts out.

  “Excuse me?” I say angrily. “Did you really just call my charm bracelet a mistress gift?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Emily says, trying to back-pedal. “But William is whisking you off to London, buying you this crazy expensive gift, and it just seems like he’s . . . keeping you.”

  Now I’m furious.

  “You know what? This whole conversation is an insult,” I snap angrily. “I would hope you would both know me well enough to know I wouldn’t be with just anybody. I have never wanted anyone until I met William. He’s different. William is sophisticated and brilliant and he makes me laugh. He understands me like no one ever has. He makes me feel like I can do anything. He believes in me. William thinks I’m smart, he thinks I’m funny, and he thinks I’m beautiful. If anyone is worth taking a risk on, it is William.”

  “My God, MK, do you hear yourself?” Reese cries. “This is not you. You are willing to risk everything you have worked so hard for your entire life for a romance with your boss? If this were to get out and the people at the Beautiful Homes Network were to find out . . . MK! Think about what you are doing! Your reputation would be crap. You know it would! And your career dreams would blow up in your face!”

  “And he’s leaving,” Emily adds pointedly. “What are you going to do when he leaves at the end of June? He is English. His worldwide headquarters are in London. What will you do when he goes back to his life and you aren’t in it?”

  “Of course I have thought of all of this! You don’t think those things scare me to death?” I cry. “Well, they do. The idea of him leaving is the worst of all those things you have mentioned, and for me to say that is the worst thing that can happen should tell you exactly what William means to me.”

  I see the worried look amplify in their eyes.

  “And while I appreciate your concern,” I say, my voice shaking, “I will not discuss this any further. I know the risks. Believe me, I know them backward and forward. But for the first time in my life, I am willing to gamble. I am willing to gamble everything for this man.”

  Because I love him. I will gamble everything because I am madly in love with William.

  “MK, please,” Emily pleads, her eyes shining with sincerity. “We are saying this because we love you. And we don’t want to see you get hurt or ruin something you have wanted your whole life for a man you barely know.”

  “I know him,” I say evenly, trying not to explode. “I know him better than anyone.”

  “How can you?” Reese cries. “Because you spent two weeks in a foreign country with him? Everything can seem romantic and perfect when you aren’t fighting over what restaurant you want to eat at or if he forgets to put the cap back on the toothpaste. And what has he promised you, MK? Other than trips and gifts?”

  I can’t take it anymore. I slap my hand down on the table so hard that a spoon flies off and hits the floor, and all the water glasses vibrate, and people next to us are staring at me like I am a lunatic.

  “This conversation is over. Or I am leaving. Take your pick, but I will not sit here and listen to both of you insult my intelligence. And I will be damned if I sit here and listen to you question William’s motives when you do not know a single fucking thing about him.”

  I keep my eyes steady in a William-esque way. Emily and Reese fall silent, and now the catch-up brunch has become the most awkward brunch in the history of Chicago.

  Just then our waitress walks up and cheerfully begins putting down our plates in front of us. Nobody is talking now, and I stare at my pancakes, my appetite completely gone.

  I pick up my fork and listlessly begin to pick at the pancakes when my cell goes off, notifying me of a text message.

  I put down my fork and fish my phone out of my bag. And my heart is overjoyed to see it is from William.

  It is 2 a.m. on Sunday. Can’t sleep.

  Negotiations begin on Monday. But I can’t stop thinking. WC

  I bite my lip. I know that is how William is. His brain is going three thousand miles per hour in all different places on how to get this deal done. I know he must be exhausted from traveling around the globe, thinking about this major acquisition, and completely stressed, too.

  Write down your thoughts on the negotiations, all of them. Then put your notes aside and we’ll sort through them tomorrow if you want. You have to get some sleep. You must be exhausted. Worried about you. MKG

  I take a sip of my coffee and William sends his response.

  Who says I am thinking about negotiations? WC

  Ooooooooh! I feel my pulse skip. Then he sends another text before I can respond.

  I am thinking about you, Mary-Kate. And that you are too far away from me right now. God, how I miss you. WC

  Oh my God! He misses me! My heart is absolutely elated, and the anger I had a few minutes ago has completely dissolved. This is what matters. Not what other people think, even my closest friends. I have to listen to my heart.

  And my heart tells me William is everything I need.

  I quickly text him back.

  William, I miss you, too. So much. Can we Video Connect soon? I need to see you. MKG

  I eagerly await his response. I hear Emily and Reese talking now, about some sale at Nordstrom, but I only want to talk to William at this moment.

  I’ll make time for it. I have to see you, too. 5 p.m. in Chicago is 8 p.m. Sunday in Sydney. Let me sleep for a few hours and we’ll Video Connect then. BTW, I am here. WC

  And then he sends me a picture of the view from his bed at the Four Seasons Presidential suite. I see contracts and papers and his iPad on the edge of the bed and the Sydney harbor twinkling through the windows of the luxuriously appointed suite. I laugh softly, as ‘I am here’ is now one of our running text joke
s to each other.

  I smile wickedly and type back:

  Time is arranged. I’ll be wearing a headband. MKG

  God, I love flirting with my man.

  He replies.

  You are very much the seductress, aren’t you? WC

  I laugh and type back.

  Indeed. Oh, by the way, I am here. Eating pancakes. MKG

  And then I take a picture of my pancakes and attach it to my text. I glance up at Reese and Emily, who are staring at me like they have never seen me before.

  “Just chatting with William,” I say, because in my life, this is normal. The new normal. “I thought he’d like to see what I am eating.”

  Beep!

  American pancakes are not like British pancakes. Ours are more like a crepe. Your pancakes are ridiculously big. WC

  I type back.

  I shall make you some upon your return. I think I am going to be able to convince you the American ones are much better. MKG

  Beep!

  You are convincing me several things are better in America, Mary-Kate. WC

  My heart jumps. I know he is talking about me.

  Go to sleep, William. I’ll see you in a few hours. MKG

  He instantly responds:

  Wish I could see you now. Will settle for the morning. WC

  I stare at his message, my heart filled with joy. Then I put the phone down.

  And despite this awful start to the day, I am now in a fabulous mood. I pick up my fork, as my craving for pancakes has returned, and take a bite. It is cold and raining outside, but a perfect day to stay in my room with my iPad, cup of coffee on my nightstand, and work on some blog articles.

  It is going to be, as William would say, a “bloody brilliant” day.

  So despite the fact that my closest friends do not believe this romance can work, that I’m making a horrible mistake, that this will come back to haunt me, that William will just leave me, I know, I just know that can’t be true. Not with William.

  I know without a doubt he is holding my heart in his hands.

  And I trust him not to break it come June.

  Chapter 21

  By five o’clock, I am more than ready to see William. I have waited all day for this call, for this chance to see him. I grab my iPad, put it in the dock on my desk, and pull up my chair. I access Video Connect, tap his contact button, and request a video connection with him. My stomach does eager flip-flops as I wait for him to accept my call.

  And he does.

  My heart leaps inside my chest as I see his handsome face, and he smiles the second our connection is made. He looks tired—I can see that by the shadows under his eyes. And, oh my God, is that stubble on his face? I know he is exhausted now, as I have never seen him with stubble.

  But damn, he looks smoking hot with it. Really fucking hot.

  I quickly drink all of him in, as much as the iPad will let me see. He’s wearing a lightweight khaki-colored sweater and has a T-shirt on underneath it. Oh, God, he’s just so handsome.

  And right now this handsome man is waiting for me to speak.

  “William!” I cry excitedly. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, perfectly,” William says, his deep baritone coming through loud and clear. “Can you hear me, Mary-Kate?”

  “Yes!” I say, nodding happily. “How are you? William, how are you really? You look exhausted.”

  “I am,” William admits, rubbing his hand along his jaw line. “But I am better now that I can see you. Bloody hell, Mary-Kate, I miss you.”

  I put my hand toward the screen and he does the same, both of us wishing we could somehow touch each other, but knowing this is the best we can do.

  “I miss you, too,” I say. “I miss you so, so much. I hate being in Chicago and knowing you aren’t here.”

  “You are wearing your bracelet,” William says, smiling at me.

  “I am,” I say happily, holding it up so he can get a good look at it. “Some dashing British man insisted that I have it.”

  William grins. “A man of exquisite taste, I can see.”

  “Indeed,” I say, laughing. “He has very fine taste.”

  “Thank you for wearing a headband,” William says, his eyes flickering sexily at me. “You look fetching as always.”

  I touch the black skinny ribbon band in my hair. “Thank you. Perhaps you can help me take it out when you come home,” I say suggestively.

  “Indeed,” William says, his eyes flashing. Then he rakes his hand through his wavy hair and a lock of his dark hair falls down across his forehead. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to reach through that screen and push it back into place for him!

  “So this is your room?” William asks, and I see his laser eyes looking around me.

  I laugh out loud. “I can give you a tour. Hang on.” I remove the iPad from the dock. “Here you are, William Cumberland. My tiny apartment bedroom in Lincoln Park. Don’t get too jealous of my spacious accommodations.”

  William laughs, that deep rich laugh that I love so much.

  “I shall take that under advisement. All right, details. Tell me how you came up with the interior design for this room. I should know, as I am allowing you to decorate my penthouse. Consider this your portfolio review.”

  I laugh so loud I snort, and then he laughs again, too.

  “Come on, Peppa, I’m waiting. You should never keep a client waiting, you know.”

  I give him a serious look.

  “Of course, Mr. Cumberland, how entirely rude of me to make you wait. I do not know if you care to consider extending me the contract after such rudeness,” I say, flirting with him again.

  William puts his fingertips in that steeple position against his lips. “I am sure I can think of a way that can be rectified,” he says, his eyes lasering in on mine. “So we can maintain the verbal agreement, you know. So it will be most appropriate to make arrangements for rectifying such rudeness upon my arrival in Chicago, Mary-Kate.”

  Oooooooooh, he is so hot when he does that.

  “I like your style, Mr. Cumberland,” I say smartly.

  William removes his fingertips from his lips. “As I do yours.”

  Okay, it is getting really hot in here now. I decide to switch gears before I beg him to let me come to Sydney so I can make out with him like mad in his hotel room.

  “Now, shall I show you my functional arrangement of practical, yet entirely decorative décor?”

  William laughs. “Please.”

  I laugh and show him my vintage blue and white striped wallpapered walls, my upholstered headboard that I made myself with thick white fabric and antique blue buttons, the chambray duvet cover and loads of white and blue floral pillows, the old white book shelves with my favorite cookbooks, and the desk I spray painted and refurbished to match my décor.

  I finish the tour and grin at him. “Do you approve, William? Am I to proceed with the project?”

  William’s eyes are completely lit up. “You are so talented. Bloody hell, you have vision. It looks like something that should be on the Beautiful Homes Network.”

  I blush from his words. “Thank you.”

  “And I know you’ll do a brilliant job with the penthouse. In fact, I will let the building know you might be coming in and out to work on the place while I am out. Or if you want to stay there, you can.”

  “Stay . . . in your penthouse?” I ask. Immediately I think of his bed. Of sleeping in his bed. Oh, Jesus Christ, I don’t know if I can handle that.

  “It might be easier. You wouldn’t have to run back and forth between your apartment and Millennium Park. And you’re closer to the office, too,” William says.

  I think of it. Of staying in his place. It would give me
more privacy to talk to him when we Video Connect, and I would get a breather from this tense situation with Reese and Emily, too.

  And in some small way, I would feel closer to William while he’s so far away.

  And that thought seals the deal for me.

  “I will,” I say. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Okay, your turn. Show me your suite,” I say. “I want to see what a Presidential Suite looks like.”

  William grins. “All right.”

  I watch as he takes his iPad and shows me around. Oh. My. God. The suite is utterly stunning. My jaw just hangs open while William gives the tour.

  “This is the lounge area,” he says. “You can see the Opera House from here and from the dining room.”

  “Holy shit,” I gasp. I see a gorgeous sitting area with a large sofa and a round black coffee table, all with incredible panoramic views of the harbor.

  William begins walking into a new room. “Here’s the dining room,” William says. I see a huge table, just huge, with ten chairs around it. “This is where I will be beating my head in negotiations all week.”

  I bite my lip. William is going after Snap-shots, a rising star in the photosharing business. He thinks this is an essential cornerstone to the future of his empire, and I know that is why he flew all the way to Sydney to make sure the deal was done.

  He shows me a few more things, and finally, he opens the door to the master bedroom.

  “This is brilliant,” William says. “Look at this bed!”

  I swallow hard. Oh God, help me, it is the sexiest bed I have ever seen. It is a black four-poster king-sized bed, with a sexy, modern linen canopy on top.