Connectivity

by Aven Ellis

  And he’s sleeping in that bed.

  And it is all I can do to not beg him to let me come to Sydney so I can share that bed with him.

  “So that’s all,” William says, turning the iPad around.

  I blink, jarred from my thoughts.

  “Mary-Kate?” William asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I say. “I wish I could be there with you.”

  “I know,” William says, sinking back down in his desk chair and putting his iPad back in the dock. He rakes both his hands through his hair. “I wish I weren’t even doing this damn Snap-shots takeover.”

  “William!” I gasp, shocked. “You wanted this! You said you needed Snap-shots to evolve—”

  “That was before,” William interrupts.

  “Before what?” I ask, confused.

  “It is taking up too much of my time,” William says firmly. “I have a fucking empire, how much more do I need? Why I am I here? Why am I here when I could be—” There is a loud knock on William’s door, interrupting him.

  No! No! I want whoever it is to go away! What was William about to say to me?

  William furrows his brow. “Bloody hell, hold on.”

  Damn it! I bite my lip, willing him to come back after telling the maid he doesn’t need sheets or towels or something.

  I can’t see William now, but I can hear him. I hear the door open, and then I hear a woman’s voice.

  “Mr. Cumberland, good morning! I know you never take time to eat, so I took the liberty of bringing you breakfast, I hope you don’t mind.”

  Oh my God, it is Arabella!

  “Ms. Dalton, thank you, but I am really not hungry,” I hear William say.

  I hear them come closer. They are now in the living area, and I can see them, but Arabella doesn’t know I am there.

  And I begin seething when I see what she is wearing.

  Arabella is dressed in a sexy black, bandage-type wrap dress, one that is form fitting and rather much for work. Oh yes. So fucking appropriate for making copies on a Sunday, which is what her tart ass should be doing right now.

  “I got a protein power breakfast for you, and some tea with lemon, just the way you like it, Mr. Cumberland,” she says, placing the box and to-go drink container on the coffee table.

  “Again, Ms. Dalton, while I appreciate your concern, I am more than capable of getting my own breakfast,” William says firmly.

  Yes! William is putting her back in her place and telling her this is not appropriate.

  God, I love my man.

  “Oh, I know, Mr. Cumberland, but really, I know what you need before these big negotiations. I know better than anybody. We have been together a long time, you and me.”

  I want to slap her.

  I watch as William’s eyes flicker angrily. I can tell he is done with her and this crap.

  “No, Ms. Dalton—” William begins, but Arabella cuts him off.

  “You have something on your sweater, Mr. Cumberland,” Arabella says, pointing to his left shoulder.

  “What?” William snaps, looking down in distraction.

  “There,” Arabella says, moving closer to him.

  I watch in horror. If she touches him, so help me I will be on the next flight to Sydney to kick her ass back to England!

  She reaches out and lightly flicks her fingertips across his shoulder, picking at a piece of so-called-fluff and brushes it aside.

  “There, all taken care of, Mr. Cumberland,” she says, gazing at him with adoration in her eyes. “You know you can count on me to take care of everything. To the smallest detail.”

  She is so dead.

  Because I am going to kill her.

  I watch as William takes a step back from Arabella and folds his arms across his chest. “I am already working,” he says in an icy tone. “I need to get back to business.”

  “Oh!” Arabella gasps, putting a hand to her chest. “I am so, so sorry, Mr. Cumberland. But we do need to meet sometime this morning to go over the menus and what you want brought up her for the meetings, and at what time you want food delivered.”

  “I do not care!” William snaps, going into full-blown irritation mode. “It is food. Just make sure you have the right amount and whatever you serve, we will eat. Now, please, go to your menu planning and I shall consult with you later about the copies I need made. I am occupied right now with something extremely important, and I need for you to leave so I can get back to it immediately.”

  “Oh. Right,” Arabella says, lifting her chin. “Yes, I will get right on that Mr. Cumberland.”

  I am seething as I watch her stand there. Why is she not leaving? Leave already! I want to talk to my man and you are taking precious time away from us!

  “Mr. Cumberland, I cannot help but notice you are extremely stressed,” Araballa says, gazing at him with concern. “I know you need to be at the top of your game tomorrow, so I took the liberty of making a massage appointment for you at the spa this afternoon as a break from your work.”

  She is trying to lure him into the spa!

  I want to throttle her. I want to jump through this screen and tell her to stay away from my man.

  “What?” William asks, creasing his brow. “Did you really make me a spa appointment?”

  “Mr. Cumberland, you must take care of yourself,” Arabella says. “A massage would ease all this tension out of your shoulders. You have to release all this negative energy so you can be at the top of your game for negotiations this week. I made one for myself at the same time.”

  She wants to do a dual massage with William. I am so going to explode if she does not get out of his room right now!

  William just looks at her, his brow still creased.

  “So let me understand correctly, Ms. Dalton,” he says in a very low, very controlled voice, “you think you know what I need and when I need it, is that correct?”

  “Well, Mr. Cumberland, you are extremely stressed. I just thought, as your lead assistant, I would take steps to make you feel better to make your job easier. Isn’t that what I am supposed to do?”

  “I do not know,” William says. Then he turns and looks right at me. “Let me ask my North American assistant. Ms. Grant, do chime in please. What do you think about that?”

  Chapter 22

  Arabella freezes the second William mentions my name. Her skin turns bright red and her jaw drops open.

  “Wh-what?” she stammers.

  “You heard me,” William says firmly. He sweeps his arm out toward where his iPad is docked on the desk and looks straight at me. “Ms. Grant, do you care to say hello to your British counterpart?”

  I love my man.

  I smile brightly at Arabella. “Hello, Arabella.”

  Arabella’s eyes pop wide open the second she sees me. A look of utter horror and shock are etched on her face.

  “So, Ms. Grant, please elaborate, if you would be so kind. Do you feel it is Ms. Dalton’s duty, as my assistant, to attend to my every personal need and want?”

  Oh, I am soooo loving this.

  I stare hard at Arabella and answer William’s question. “No, Mr. Cumberland, I do not. I am here to assist you on business matters,” I say, lying through my teeth. “For example, I think you are perfectly capable of determining what you would like to eat for breakfast without my assistance.”

  Arabella looks like she wants to throw William’s iPad right out into the Sydney Harbor. Ha!

  “Furthermore,” I continue, “I do not think it is my place to suggest you get a massage or anything else of that nature. It is not professional for me to do as your assistant.”

  But totally appropriate for me to suggest as your girlfriend, I add to myself.

  Arabella is shootin
g daggers at me.

  I smile and return them in kind.

  “Intriguing philosophy, Ms. Grant,” William says, staring at me. He puts his fingertips to his lips as if he is deeply assessing the value of my words. I see his eyes shining and I know he loves this just as much as I do right now.

  Then he turns back to Arabella. “I concur with Ms. Grant. Please stick to the business at hand, Ms. Dalton. Plan the menus, make sure I have everything I need for the meeting tomorrow, and I will request things as needed as the negotiations continue. Is that understood?”

  Arabella swallows and looks down at the floor. “Yes, Mr. Cumberland.”

  “If that is all, I need to get back to discussing the week ahead in Chicago with Ms. Grant. She was kind enough to indulge me addressing work issues on her Saturday, and I do not care to delay her any longer than I have to.”

  Bah ha ha! It is getting really hard to keep a straight face now.

  “Yes, Mr. Cumberland,” she says.

  Arabella gives me one quick glance, and I smile brightly at her. Her eyes narrow again and then she turns and walks briskly out of the room. I hear the door shut and then I look at William, who is now walking toward me.

  “Damn it, I do not have time to waste on her!” he snaps, sitting back down in front of me. “This time belongs to you! This pisses me off!”

  I was set to be furious, to rant and rave about how she is trying to make moves on him, about what an epic bitch she is, but when I see how upset William is about losing time with me, I can’t do it.

  Studying his exhausted face, I know what my man needs right now. And that is not it.

  “William,” I say softly, “Please don’t be angry. You need to focus on Snap-shots.”

  William exhales loudly. “What if I just throw a bunch of money at them to get this done? I just want to come home to you, Mary-Kate.”

  “William!” I cry, “That is not what a badass mogul does! You go in there and be William Fucking Cumberland. You make them sweat and you get the best deal for Connectivity, and that is what you are going to do! I will not stand for anything less from you.”

  Despite how exhausted he is, the intensity is back in his laser blue eyes. “You’re right.”

  “I know I am,” I say firmly, staring at him, wishing to God I could be there with him. “So I want you to prepare to be that badass. Go get Snap-shots. Then you can come home to me.”

  “I am probably going to be here for another week,” William says seriously, putting his hand back up to the screen. “Once I get the takeover done, I’ll have to do interviews, which I despise, then reassure the people at the Sydney office that everything is going to transition well.”

  I put my hand up and touch his on the iPad screen. “I figured as much.” I remove my hand and lift an eyebrow at him. “You aren’t going to handpick a Sydney assistant, are you?”

  “I saved that move for a certain sexy redhead in Chicago,” William says, lifting an eyebrow back at me.

  I blush furiously, and he smiles.

  I clear my throat. “I will try to have your penthouse done by the time you get back,” I say, trying to make the best of the situation, although the idea of him being gone for fourteen days makes my heart hurt.

  “Ah, yes, the project you ignored because you were mad at me,” William teases.

  “Oh, shut up!” I say, laughing.

  He laughs with me, and I bask in the richness of the sound.

  “Seriously, though, I cannot wait to see it,” William says. “I know it is going to be brilliant.”

  “I hope so,” I say. “I am actually going to start tomorrow. Tonight, I’m going to do some articles for the Beautiful Homes website.”

  “Good. Send them to me as you finish so I can read them.”

  “William, you don’t have time for that!”

  “I,” William says firmly, staring at me, “always have time for you.”

  Oh my God. I am really tempted to tell him throw his money around and get back on the next flight headed back to Chicago.

  I nod. Then I get serious on him.

  “Please take care of yourself,” I say honestly. “Make time to swim,” I add, knowing that is how he relieves stress. Then I rethink that. “And if Arabella shows up poolside in a string bikini with a cocktail for you, I will kick her ass!”

  William roars with laughter. “I won’t tell her my swim schedule.”

  I manage to laugh, but I don’t trust her not to try that maneuver.

  William exhales. “I need to go.”

  “I know you do.”

  “Let’s try to Video Connect daily,” William says. “I’ll text you times that might work.”

  “Okay,” I say, feeling my throat grow a little tight.

  “I miss you,” William says again.

  “I miss you, too,” I say back to him. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Good evening, Mary-Kate,” William says. “Sweet dreams.”

  “Bye, William.” And then he’s gone.

  Swallowing hard, I get up out of my chair and flop down on my bed. I pick up one of my throw pillows and hold it to my chest, and as I do, I study my Tiffany bracelet.

  I am so in love with this man. It is crazy. It is absurd. We have only really been together two weeks, if you start counting the time since our first kiss.

  As I brush my fingers over each charm, I know it doesn’t make any sense to the outside world. Reese and Emily think I’ve lost my mind. I am risking everything for a man who doesn’t live here, for a man who has repeatedly said he doesn’t want a serious relationship, for a man who runs a global empire and has always said it comes first.

  But when I look into his soulful blue eyes, they tell me everything I need to know.

  William is my man.

  He is my future, my world, my everything.

  And I know, without a doubt, gambling on William is the right thing to do.

  So with that thought in my head, I get up and begin packing some of my clothes and get ready to go to Penthouse 57 in Millennium Park.

  During the next two weeks, my world is crazy busy. I am managing everything for William at the office while he’s out. I’m blogging all the time, and redecorating his penthouse. I also wrote two articles for the Beautiful Homes Network website, which were so well received they put me on the calendar as a regular contributor!

  It is so strange how things turn out, I think as I run some copies of talent contracts for William to sign upon his return. I have spent all my college years, my internships, the past two years in the working world with one agenda in mind—lining myself up for a career in television programming.

  But I had no idea I’d enjoy writing for a website so much, or become so passionate about blogging.

  My blog has totally taken off thanks to Rupert and Claire spreading the word among their friends. I now have more than one hundred subscribers! Totally crazy. My brain is so full of ideas for it, too. I’m always jotting down notes in a notebook and taking pictures and I feel truly engaged and inspired with what I am doing.

  And writing brings me so much joy I am wondering if maybe that is the direction I should pursue, despite my lifelong dream of working in television programming.

  I finish the copies and gather them up into my arms. My heart jumps inside my chest. William is leaving Sydney tonight. He is coming home! God, it has been too long since I have touched him, too long since I’ve kissed that perfect mouth of his. I never thought it was possible to miss anyone as much as I have missed William these past two weeks.

  I head back down the hallway, toward my cubicle. I also cannot wait to show him the penthouse. I’ve painted. I’ve found accessories, like antique books about poetry and geography, which I know are some of his passions. I’ve had a new
sofa and coffee table delivered. And I have some surprises, too, ones that I hope he loves as much as I do for his penthouse.

  William’s penthouse. I have stayed there the past two weeks, ever since that first night he said I could stay there. I’ve slept in his bed—not an easy feat the first few nights—but then it just became home to me. Penthouse 57 just feels like where I should be.

  Where I am meant to be.

  I reach his office and I pause outside his office door. Just knowing he’s not there makes my chest tighten with sadness.

  Suddenly, I hear my cell phone go off. I walk over to my desk, put the copies down, and see that it is Michelle calling.

  “Hello?” I answer as I go to sit in my chair. Except I miss and all of the sudden, I fall the floor with a loud crash and bang my arm on the desktop on the way down. “Ouch!” I yell into the phone.

  “MK? Good lord, what was that?” Michelle asks.

  “Nothing!” I say, scrambling back into my chair. I turn over my shoulder—thank God nobody saw that—and sit down. “What’s up?”

  “You know, MK, I know my wedding is not your highest priority,” Michelle snaps, “But you can at least respond to my emails asking for your opinion. It is so rude for you to ignore me like this!”

  I bite my tongue. I responded to her list of emails, Connectivity notes, Pinterest pins, and Tweets on Monday. It is now Friday.

  “Michelle,” I say calmly, “I have responded to many of them earlier this week, and there were a lot of them to—”

  “That is because you do not answer in a timely fashion!” Michelle roars.

  I command myself. Do not scream. Do not scream. Do not scream at her like you want to.

  “Michelle, at first I was busy in London,” I say evenly. “I was there for work.”

  “Oh my God, will you stop it already about work and London? I know you don’t understand the concept of love, MK, but for some of us that is all that matters!”

  I ignore that comment, thinking how ironic she chooses to throw that in my face when for the first time in my life, I am completely in love.