“All the same, I hope that clears things up a bit for you.” Pausing, his gaze flitted over my face again in that way it sometimes did, causing my heart to jump. Then he turned and strode back around the desk.
“Anyway, I figured I should let you know since she’ll probably call fairly often. I’m actually surprised this is the first time she’s called while you’ve been here.”
“Right,” I nodded. “Thanks for letting me know.”
I scurried out of Max’s office and closed the door behind me, trying to think about what this new piece of information meant. On the one hand, it looked like his one flaw wasn’t quite as big as I’d hoped. On the other, Max was single.
‘There’s my working girl!” Willow called out as I walked through the front door.
I grimaced. “I wouldn’t say it exactly like that.”
She was sitting on the couch, her head tilted backward over it as she watched me take off my shoes and toss my keys in the bowl. “How was your day? Slay any corporate dragons?”
I snorted. “I’m the assistant to the CEO, Willow, not the new head of leasing. The only dragon I slayed today was an interfering mother.”
“Ooh, that sounds interesting. Tell me more.”
I sat down on the sofa next to Willow and briefly relayed Paulina’s mission. Willow was making some sort of craft involving feathers and popsicle sticks, and I picked a few feathers off the sofa while I talked.
“So, he’s single?” she said, with a sly look in her eyes.
I laughed, “That was my first thought. But before you say anything—no, I will not be getting involved with my boss. Single or otherwise. I need this job.”
“Yes, of course.” Willow brandished the glue gun in my direction, pointing the silver nozzle at me. “But you can’t blame me for getting a little caught up in it. Your work life is much more scandalous than mine.”
“It’s not even scandalous!” I defended.
Willow winked,“Not yet.”
I groaned and rose from the sofa, stomach gurgling. Willow must have heard it because she called after me, “I was going to make lentils for dinner. Do you want any?”
I made a face, even though she couldn’t see it. Hell, especially because she couldn’t see it. “I’ll pass.”
I was rooting through the fridge, wondering what I could cook that would be the fastest, when my phone rang. I pulled it out, expecting a telemarketer or something along those lines. Instead, Lance’s face filled my screen. The photo was the most handsome one he’d ever taken, and I remembered how I used to get excited every time he called. Now I didn’t know what to feel.
The ringing continued. From the living room, Willow yelled, “Aren’t you going to get that?”
I blinked, realizing I’d been just staring at the phone this whole time. “Yeah. I’m getting it.”
I made a snap second decision not to just let it go to voicemail, although that was probably what I should have done. But seeing Lance calling me disturbed layers of emotions that had been resting somewhat peacefully, if uneasily, until that moment. Now I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. So I just acted.
“Hello?” I answered.
The first thing that hit me was the noise. Wherever Lance was, it was loud. I could hear people shouting in the background over the sound of classic rock and roll. He was at the bar, I realized.
“Babe, hey,” Lance slurred. “How are you?”
“I’m good. How are you?”
“Who is it?” Willow called. I ignored her.
“I’m just out with some friends,” he said. “Thought I’d give you a call. I miss talking to you.”
The words hit me like a bullet to the chest, ripping through bone and skin, then lodging right in the back of my spine. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. Hell, I needed to tell him to go fuck himself. Yet I didn’t. I missed him too, even if he had hurt me. Maybe this was just what we needed, a little time apart to see what was important. Maybe—
Willow snatched the phone from my hand and looked at the screen. She had already tapped end before I even knew what was happening.
“Hey!” I protested.
“Don’t hey me,” she said, handing the phone back. “Why did you pick up in the first place? What if you had said something you would regret?”
“Maybe I was about to tell him to stick it where the sun don’t shine.” I raised my chin defiantly.
My best friend fixed me with a flat look. “I find that highly unlikely, given that you looked like your jaw had come unhinged. You were blindsided and you know it.”
I considered arguing with her, but there was no point. “You’re right.”
“I know I’m right,” Willow brightened up. “But hey, think of it this way. Now you are leaving him to stew in what he did. And he’s obviously stewing. He knows he made a mistake, and you get the satisfaction of being the bigger person and moving on before him. Right?”
She clapped me on the shoulder and headed back to the couch.
Just because Willow was right, it didn’t make me feel any better about what just happened. What if he had realized he’d made a mistake? Did that mean there was a chance we’d be getting back together? I couldn’t even decide if that was what I wanted. Yes, he’d been a tremendous jerk to me, but we’d had some really good times together, too. Why did he have to call and stir me up like this?
“Come over here and help me with this,” Willow called. “It’s fun, I promise. Even if one or two of mine did come out a little phallic.”
Chapter 7
Max
Two weeks.
Emma had been working with me for two weeks, and I hadn’t screwed her. Well, not outside of my head, anyway. In my fantasies, we’d done everything there was to do, and then we’d done it again, just because we could. She was quite the little spitfire.
I could hardly congratulate myself for not having sex with my assistant when I’d been having such sordid fantasies about her instead, but I had to give myself points somewhere. Especially since I hadn’t screwed anyone in the past two weeks, which was making my quest for professionalism even harder. I was restless.
Jeremy had a knack for sensing when I needed to blow off a little steam, so I wasn’t surprised when he called on Friday evening and announced that he was on his way over.
“Why would you do something like that?” I asked.
“We’re going out,” he said. “It’s been a long week. I don’t know about you, but I could stand to let off some steam.”
I hadn’t been ‘out’ since my birthday party, if that even counted. I didn’t think it did since I hadn’t been able to relax the entire time. Jeremy was right. I needed to let off some steam.
“Fuck it. Fine.”
“There’s that Westfield enthusiasm I know and love.”
Ten minutes later, I hopped into Jeremy’s cab. He gave the driver directions to a trendy nightspot called Leaf that had just opened a couple weeks ago. I didn’t question his choice. As far as nights out were concerned, Jeremy was the expert. He knew all the hot clubs and bars in the city, and not just the overpriced dives that touted themselves as the best but failed to measure up.
We got in right away, but then again, we always did. There wasn’t a bouncer in New York City that would make Max Westfield or Jeremy Braun wait.
Inside, flashing lights from the ceiling gave the room a pulsing, colored glow. A recessed dance floor was full of sweaty, grinding bodies, and around the perimeter were three floors of balconies, with each floor having its own mini dance floor and seating area. My eyes slipped from body to body, trying to single out the woman who would siphon away some of this restless energy.
“Let’s get a table,” said Jeremy, shouting to be heard over the music. He pointed toward the bottom of the roped off VIP area.
I shook my head, “I don’t want to sit in VIP.”
He gave me an incredulous look, but smiled all the same. “What? You’d like to mingle with the plebeians tonight?�
� He shrugged, chuckling. “So be it.”
We cut around the outside of the floor until we found an unoccupied table. As soon as we sat down, a waitress bustled over to us, all cleavage and smiles. She’d probably zeroed in on us the moment we walked in. I didn’t blame her, we looked like money, no doubt about that.
Jeremy ordered us each a shot and a beer, then we were alone again.
“You’re looking around the room like it is a menu and you’re nearly ready to order,” Jeremy said. “See anything you like?”
I shook my head and returned my gaze to him. “Nothing yet, but the night is young.”
“Aye, that it is.” He sat back in the chair and turned his eye to the crowd as well. “Your mom set you up with anyone interesting recently?”
“Of course not,” I replied. “None of them are interesting.”
“You won’t even give one a chance?”
It wasn’t like Jeremy to take her side. I crooked an eyebrow, and when he looked back over at me to see why I hadn’t responded, Jeremy broke out into a grin.
“What?”
“My mother’s been at you, hasn’t she?” I asked.
The look on Jeremy’s face said it all. I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my face, wondering if her nightmare of a mission would ever lose steam, or if it was destined only to get worse.
“All she asked was for me to get you to open up to the idea a little more,” he reasoned.
“The idea of marrying some girl my mother chooses for me?” I scowled. “Have a backbone, Jeremy. Christ. She’s like five foot tall, can’t you just tell her no?”
“What’s your excuse?”
I ground my teeth, my stare locked on his. At that moment, our waitress returned with our drinks and slid them onto the table in front of us. I took the shot without waiting for Jeremy.
“I’m all she has,” I growled, after I slammed the empty glass back onto the table. “I have to give her something every once and awhile. She’s lonely. I think part of this is because she thinks I’ll marry a girl who wants to go to her society events and book clubs and whatever the fuck else she does these days. It’s a delicate subject.”
Jeremy’s face softened a little. “Fine. I’ll tell her I’m staying out of it if she asks me again.”
“Good.”
Jeremy did his shot, grimacing throughout. When he opened his eyes again, they snapped open and he smiled. “Hey, remember your sexy secretary?”
“She’s my assistant. And yes, of course I remember her.”
In order to forget her, I would have had to stop thinking about her. That clearly wasn’t happening anytime soon.
“Well it looks like fate has brought you two together on this fine evening.” He nodded his head in the opposite direction, and I turned to follow his gaze.
I saw her right away. It was like she was a beacon amongst a sea of shadows, her red hair catching in the light and flashing like blood. She was wearing a tight-fitting dress that stopped mid-thigh, and her legs were long and lean beyond it. I swiped my tongue across my dry lips and turned back to Jeremy.
“I’ll be right back.” I put my beer down and went to get up, but Jeremy shot out a hand to stop me.
“What are you doing?”
I shook off his hand. “I’m going to invite her over for a drink.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
I ground my teeth. I didn’t like having my ideas questioned.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I would have gone drinking with Haddie. This is no different.”
I wasn’t being fair to Jeremy. I knew this was different, that she was different. Emma wasn’t Haddie. She was like a song I couldn’t get out of my head. They say that the way to get a song out of your head is to listen to it in its entirety. Maybe all I needed to do was remove the novelty factor of my beautiful assistant. Maybe if we spent time together outside of work, she would seem less tempting.
Or maybe it would get worse.
I strode through the crowd, following Emma as she trailed behind a blonde in a flowy, multicolored skirt. The girl she was with definitely didn’t belong here, but it didn’t seem to bother her at all. I caught up with Emma just as her friend was pointing at an empty table near the back. She jumped when I laid a hand on her arm. When she turned, however, she went perfectly still.
“Max.” She blinked, like she thought I was a mirage that would disappear soon. “What are you doing here?”
I smiled, “I came here to relax. Same as you, I imagine.”
Emma glanced back at her friend, who was standing there watching the exchange with interest. The look on her face reminded me a little too much of Jeremy for comfort.
“Why don’t you two come join us at our table?” I asked. “I’d love to buy you a drink.”
“Sure!” the other girl said, sailing up next to me. “We would love a drink.”
I laughed. Emma shot her friend a glare.
“Come on,” I said, gesturing toward Jeremy and the table.
Jeremy forgot all about his worrying the second he set eyes on Emma’s friend. Though a bit of an odd dresser, she was undoubtedly beautiful. Her hair was long and wavy. Tied back in a ponytail, it still skimmed her back, like a golden rope. She clearly noticed Jeremy too, and sat down next to him without any further prompting.
I pulled out a chair for Emma and she sat shyly, looking up at me through dark lashes so sweetly that I pictured claiming her mouth right there. I shook away that thought and sat, and the waitress was on us again the moment I did.
We all ordered more drinks, and I was about to introduce myself to Emma’s friend but stopped when I saw how engaged she and Jeremy were. They were talking in low voices, leaning in close to each other like they were exchanging secrets.
“That’s Willow,” Emma filled in. “She’s my roommate and best friend.”
“Ah.” I relaxed in my seat, draining the rest of my beer. “You’ve already met Jeremy, dog that he is.”
Emma laughed, a pretty tinkling sound. “He’s not so bad.”
“You clearly haven’t spent enough time with him.”
“That’s true. I’m sure I’ll get to know you both pretty well. Haddie seemed to.”
I noticed she was slurring her words the tiniest bit, and it was kind of cute. It was like she had a little bit of a lisp.
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get there.”
The waitress came back with our drinks, and Emma all but snatched hers, downing a mouthful like she was dying of thirst. I quickly realized it was a maneuver meant to stop me from noticing the blush on her cheeks. I liked that I could make her blush. It made the animal inside of me stir, pacing inside my ribs until the day I let it loose. Which would be never, of course. I couldn’t.
But fuck if I didn’t want to.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” Emma cocked her head to the side, the lights giving her hair an auburn tint as it spilled over her shoulder.
“Shoot.”
“Why’s your mom trying to marry you off so hard? Are you like secretly a prince or something? Do you have a dynasty to protect?”
I sensed this was the kind of question she would never ask me sober, but I didn’t mind it. In fact, I liked that she was curious about me. I was curious about her too.
“You’re close, actually,” I said, chuckling. “She doesn’t want our family’s assets to go to my cousins when I die, but unless I have an heir, I don’t have anyone else to give it to. Mostly though, I just think she thinks that’s what I’m supposed to do at my age. She can’t fathom the thought that I might have other priorities.”
“And what would those be?” I had her full, rapt attention at this point. I didn’t care if she was getting a little personal.
I scoffed. “Not getting married, for one thing.”
Her expression changed. She sat back and stared at me in disbelief, her nose wrinkling just a little. “You don’t want to get married? Like... ever?”
“Like ever,” I confirmed.
/>
“Why not?” I’d never seen Emma look quite so distressed. Then again, I’d never seen her drunk. “What have you got against marriage?”
“I don’t have anything against it, per se.” I shrugged. “I just don’t believe in it.”
I leaned in closer to her, so that our shoulders nearly brushed. Our bodies were angled toward each other, and she had to tilt her chin to look up at me. She had a light dusting of freckles across her nose and I had the strangest urge to lean in and kiss each one.
“I think you’re jaded,” she said. “Marriage is great.”
“You ever been married?” I cocked a brow.
Emma scowled, “Well, no actually. But I’ve got a Pinterest board with all the ingredients for my dream wedding.”
“Ah, so it’s a wedding you want, not a marriage,” I said wryly. “I would reconsider if I were you. A wedding lasts a day—a marriage lasts a lifetime. Is having a dream wedding worth enduring a terrible marriage?”
Emma’s mouth pinched. “I want a wedding, yes, but that’s because it’s something I can plan without actually having to have a groom. I can’t start dreaming about my marriage until I’ve found the right guy, but when I’m sad I can sit and eat pretzels and plan my dream wedding on Pinterest.”
“What exactly is it about marriage that entices you?”
Emma thought carefully about the question, and I could see her rolling it around in her mind. “It’s about the commitment. I don’t think there’s anything more romantic than committing yourself to another person for the rest of your life. It’s a big deal.” She took a sip of her drink, smiling. “So what exactly is it about marriage that disgusts you so much?”
I supposed two could play at that game.
“It’s not necessarily the idea of marriage itself,” I said. “I don’t believe in the kind of love you’re talking about.”
“First you don’t believe in marriage, and now you don’t believe in love?” Emma sighed dramatically. “What next? Please don’t tell me you think the spirit of the holidays is a sham too. I couldn’t take it.”
Room Service Page 23