The Bet

by Lily Zante

  Things had plummeted for him ever since.

  “You shouldn’t worry so much, Isabel. He’s fine, and he’ll be even better when you come home for Christmas.”

  “I’ll be home in a few weeks.”

  “That’s not long to go.”

  “No, it isn’t. I have to go. Love you. ‘Bye.”

  She hung up. Money, and distance kept her from going home for Thanksgiving. Cara had promised she would bring food back for her, but for now, a grilled cheese sandwich would do.

  She spent the day flitting around, reading, doing pieces of her homework, sleeping, and watching TV. And when she felt like doing some work, she added the finishing touches to the report she was working on for Xavier.

  Mid-afternoon she fell asleep watching TV, then woke up at 9pm and watched TV again, not in the mood to do any work.

  The next day, bored of being at home by herself, she went out and sat in a coffee shop, fueled by the need to be around people after the solitary confinement of the past few days.

  It was unusually quiet outside, as was to be expected with most people having gone home to be with family. She reached for the MacBook Pro.

  Not her MacBook.

  Xavier’s.

  When the time came for her to return it, it was going to be hard giving it up. But one day, one day, when she had her college degree, and a good job with a company that promised excellent perks, and an excellent salary, she would be able to afford a Mac of her own. After she’d helped her parents out financially.

  Getting her business degree meant she would be smarter than her dad, and it meant that ruthless, sick, greedy rich businessmen wouldn’t be able to ride roughshod over her, and make promises they could not keep. Knowledge was power, as was awareness, and these two things Izzy hoped to cultivate by the bucket load.

  Cara would be home in a day or two, and college classes resumed the day after. Izzy decided to call a couple of friends she knew had stayed behind in New York over the weekend, to see if any of them were up for catching a movie tonight.

  She worked on Xavier’s document for a few hours, making it pretty, making the charts slightly bigger, and adding some more in, for other data. He hadn’t specifically asked for it, but she sometimes got carried away, and she wanted to do the best possible job she could. And it was easier to get carried away sitting in a coffee shop with a few other people, some music playing in the background, and the noise of the coffee machine in the foreground. Under these conditions, time slipped away from her.

  Proud of what she had accomplished, she copied the report to the memory stick, then checked her cell phone when it pinged with a notification. One of her friends had asked if she wanted to go out that evening.

  It would beat sitting at home alone. Clearing everything away, she slid her MacBook into her shoulder bag, and stepped outside into the subdued, gray afternoon. She decided to call her friend, but the call went straight to voicemail. She was about to leave a message when someone pushed past her, yanking her shoulder.

  She held onto her bag even tighter, a reflex action, as the noise of the scooter temporarily confused her. It took her a few seconds to that see that the MacBook had gone.

  Shock slapped her senses to alert, as the fact registered. Had it been someone on the scooter? By the time she looked up to check, the rider had sped off.

  It had been fast, like lightning, the swipe into her bag and bam! Gone. She looked up and around, and everyone was going about their usual business. Nobody had even noticed, and that sense of ordinariness, of normality, seemed to dumb down her reaction.

  Xavier.

  The thought of him made her heart sink. All that work she’d done for him. And now it was gone.

  No! No! No!

  He would go mad.

  She had meant to email it to him just now, but had become preoccupied with her cell phone messages.

  She sat leaned against the wall, trying to get her breath back.

  It wasn’t even her laptop.

  Xavier would hit the roof.

  She slapped a hand to her cheek, the weight of Xavier’s document and everything that rested on it, dragging her spirits to a new low. The memory stick was gone too.

  He had a copy—but all her changes, everything she had worked on and fixed over the past few days, were gone. She hadn’t even thought to back it up to the cloud for safety.

  When she had collected herself together, she returned to the coffee shop, wanting to be somewhere warm and inside, and made the call.

  “Hey, Izzy. Is it done?”

  She wanted to tell him, but somehow couldn’t find it in herself to say it. “Almost,” she managed, swallowing and pushing down the white lie. It would soon become the whopping big mother of all lies.

  He sounded happy and told her he was looking forward to seeing what she’d done.

  “Are you at home?”

  “I’m knee-deep in paperwork.”

  “I’d better let you go.”

  “Can you email me the final document?”

  “Sure.”

  She hadn’t had the heart, or the guts, to tell him. Instead, she turned up at his apartment block and pressed the buzzer.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sweet Jesus.

  For a second he thought he heard the sound of his buzzer.

  Couldn’t be.

  He grunted like an animal as he released, jerking off in the bathroom. He hung his head on his chest, letting the heady sensation engulf him from head to toe. This what was what happened when he wasn’t getting any action. It was having a serious effect on his day to day moods.

  He heard the buzzer again, but he decided to ignore it, preferring to come down slowly from his high.

  But when the buzzer sounded continued, he was forced to clean up quickly, then rushed out to answer it.

  “Yes?” he shouted into the intercom.

  “You’re in,” she said. “I thought you’d gone out.”

  “Izzy?” Fuckity fuck. Had she mentioned that she was coming over? He was sure he’d told her to email the damn document. “What is it?”

  “Uh. Could I come in?”

  He rubbed his forehead, not needing this interruption, but she was here now. “Yes.” He pressed the button, letting her into the building. And waited.

  “Hi,” she said, arriving at his door, looking a little timid, he thought. The snarkiness was gone. She seemed milder. Softer.

  “You didn’t have to drop it off, in person,” he said. “You could have just emailed it,” he said, closing the door. “You didn’t have to make a special trip.” On an ordinary day, if he didn’t have Hennessy’s meeting weighing him down, he might have been able to make good use of this unexpected appearance of hers, but today was not a good day.

  “I lost my laptop.”

  His frown deepened. “What laptop?”

  “I mean, your MacBook.”

  “What?” He angled his head, in case he’d misheard.

  “Your MacBook. Somebody stole it from me.” She looked shocked, now that he looked at her face for longer.

  “Stole it from you?”

  She nodded, and bit her lip. “It happened as I was leaving a coffee shop.”

  “What? How?” He closed his eyes, forced his breath to still, even though the anger had sparked. He’d been counting on her work so that he could finish up his report.

  “I came out of a coffee shop, and some guy on a scooter grabbed it and rode off with it before I’d even realized. It happened so fast, I didn’t even know.”

  “And my data? My report?”

  She looked down. “I was going to email it to you before I left the coffee—”

  “You don’t have it?”

  “It’s gone.”

  “You have the USB, don’t you? And you made a copy of my report?” The meeting with Chad was tomorrow.

  “The USB was connected.”

  “You lost that, too?”

  “I didn’t lose it. Somebody stole it from me.” She fell sile
nt. With her face pale, and her dark eyes looking at him with an uncharacteristically sad expression, he realized he was behaving like a heartless douchebag.

  He gave her the once over, trying to see if she’d been hurt, but she appeared to be fine. She was as hard as nails. “Fuck,” he said, understanding the implications of this.

  “I’m sorry, Xavier. I really am, and I could kick myself. I wish I’d saved a version but I didn’t.” Her lower lip trembled, just a little. Or maybe not. This was Laronde, after all, and he didn’t think her lip was capable of trembling.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said, running his hands through his hair as he paced around.

  “I didn’t intend to get robbed.”

  “Tell me you saved a copy of your changes?” The muscle in his jaw spasmed again.

  She shook her head. “I’d just finished making changes. I’d worked on it all morning, adding in more charts. I know how important this meeting was for you and I wanted it to be perfect. I was going to email it to you but I got distracted. I’m sorry. I really am. It was a big mistake.”

  “Why didn’t you email me a copy before you left?”

  “Believe me, I’ve asked myself the same question a million times, but I was going to check it one more time and make sure it was perfect.”

  He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes, running through the clusterfuck scenario in front of him. He needed this deal otherwise it would be months before he had another opportunity as good as this one.

  She looked awful, and he did his best not to get mad. It was just as well he’d jerked off now, otherwise he would have been frustrated beyond belief.

  “Have you reported it to the police?”

  “I didn’t think to,” she replied, calmly. “I came straight here. I was more worried about your report. I knew you were waiting on it.”

  “My meeting is tomorrow, first thing.”

  “Then you need it today.”

  “That was the idea.” What the hell was he supposed to do now? Fuck.

  “I can redo it all. You have the original files, don’t you?”

  “Obviously.”

  “I’ll do it again, now. I remember most of it.”

  “Now? As in right now, as in here?”

  She nodded.

  “I had plans to go out later.”

  “I can do it while you’re out, but I’ll need access to your files.” Her cheeks turned pink. “Though you probably don’t trust me with your PC.”

  Screw going out. He couldn’t leave her in his office, he didn’t trust her not to mess up anything else.

  “This way,” he said, and headed towards his office.

  Chapter 27

  Xavier Stone was a pig.

  He might not be quite as bad as Shoemoney, but he was a pig nonetheless. He didn’t even seem remotely concerned about her, only the goddamn document. He hadn’t even asked if she was ok.

  He had given her access to the network, and left her at his desk, to use his computer. She could hear him in the living room, on the phone, making his calls. He seemed to be extra edgy and she sensed he was nervous about tomorrow, anyway, and she had just made things worse.

  She worked hard, put her head down, and got on with it. The motivation high to prove to him that she was sorry and to do the best report she could.

  Every so often he would stick his head around the door and ask her if she needed anything. And each time she would give him a curt “No, thanks,” and continue with her work.

  “I’ve got some leftovers.”

  She looked up. “No, thanks.”

  “You must be hungry now?”

  “No.” She wanted to be gone as soon as possible.

  “Not even a washroom break?”

  She eyed him with disgust. “No.”

  He held his hands up, as if surrendering. “Just asking. You’ve hardly moved.”

  “I’m rushing to get your work done.”

  “Don’t rush and make a mess of it.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I didn’t mean that you would make a—”

  “I know what you meant.” She didn’t even bother turning around, and hoped he would leave.

  “Izzy.” Oh, dear god, he was still here. He perched on the side of the desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier.”

  “I heard you. Can I get on with this? You’re making me lose concentration.”

  His mouth started to curve into a smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  She shook her head. “What gives, Stone?” He was making crude jokes at a time like this? And after the way he had behaved earlier?

  “I’m going.”

  Luckily re-doing everything didn’t take as long as she feared because everything was still fresh in her mind. She’d added better charts and made the whole thing much easier to understand at a glance.

  She stood up and had a big stretch, feeling the muscles in her shoulder blades loosen. She moved her neck around slowly, easing out the tight knots that had formed. It was something she tried to remember to do because sometimes, as was the case now, when she sat down and concentrated too hard, she forgot that she held her breath, and often stayed in the same rigid pose for too long.

  “Done?”

  She jumped, as Xavier’s voice startled her from behind.

  “All done. Here, take a look.” She bent over to pull up the report.

  “Could you print it off?” He nodded at the printer.

  “Sure.” At least that way he wouldn’t need to look over her shoulder. He walked away, leaving her to print it off. When she walked out into the living area, he was lying on the couch, with his legs up, and a TV remote in one hand. An easy life for some people.

  “Here.” She held it out to him, and he sat up, paused the TV, and looked it over, flicking through the pages, and making appreciative noises in his throat.

  “Hey,” he said, finally looking up at her. “This is impressive. You’ve done an amazing job.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, but was glad he liked it. All she wanted was to go home, and she was getting antsy to leave.

  “What’s this?” He stared at one of the charts she’d created. When she didn’t sit down on the couch to see, he stood up and pointed his finger at the chart. “This seems unnecessary.”

  “I can take it out if you want. I figured it showed your data off better than being in tabular form.”

  He nodded in agreement. “It does look better,” he murmured, then turned a few more of the pages. “Would you—” he seemed to hesitate. “Would you mind doing that with the other tables? You’re right. It does look so much better.”

  She had been thinking of it, but had only done the one. Now she wished she’d hadn’t done it at all.

  “Or you can show me how to do it,” he offered, as if he had sensed her reluctance.

  “I can do it.”

  “It would help.”

  “I said I’d do it.”

  “Then don’t look so pissed about it.”

  “I’m not pissed,” she retorted.

  “Then at least smile, to prove it.”

  But a smile, for him, wasn’t going to happen easily. She managed a forced grimace before turning around to leave.

  “You don’t have to rush to do it now.”

  “You need it for tomorrow.”

  “Just chill for a while. You’ve been working solidly for the past few hours.”

  “I don’t see that I had any choice, and I’d like to go home as soon as I’ve finished.”

  “At least sit down and take a break for a while.”

  “And talk to you?”

  “You could do worse.”

  Before she tried to get her head around the words, before she tried to figure out if it was innuendo, or a flirtatious response—the only types of response Xavier seemed capable of giving—he said, “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t know what it is, Laronde, but you make me say things I don’t mean.”

&
nbsp; “There’s no point in using your pick up lines on me, Stone. They don’t work.”

  “Who said I was using a pick-up line?”

  Their gazes locked.

  The way his eyes were pinned on her, soft, and searching, she couldn’t make out if he was being serious, or silly.

  But she knew that she couldn’t stand here gawking at him all day, especially with the way her stomach suddenly felt all light and airy. “I’ll get this done,” she said, stepping away, hastily.

  “Suit yourself.”

  “And get the hell out of here,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “We can get dinner later!” He shouted after her.

  “No we won’t.” She shouted over her shoulder before storming into his office. She stopped cold when she saw his screensaver. Her mouth fell open. It was the picture of a woman in a bikini lying over a car that looked very much like his Ferrari. Her hand froze momentarily as she seized the mouse.

  This was his screensaver?

  The woman was soaked, her hair hanging around her shoulders, perched on the edge of his hood, and sitting forward, her nipples erect and staring right at her.

  Gross.

  She slammed the keyboard in anger. “Can you unlock your screen for me!” she shouted.

  Her nostrils flared as she waited, and when, five seconds later he didn’t come running in, she stormed away and rushed smack bang into him.

  “Ouch!” A sharp pain tasered through her lower lip.

  “Whoa,” he said. His thumb on the side of her lips, his eyes all worried-looking. She caught a whiff of his cologne first, before the undercurrents of his chest close to hers, erupted. “Sorry.”

  She backed away, feeling her lip with her tongue.

  “Your lip’s bleeding.”

  She licked it again, the taste of blood on her tongue salty. He reached for a Kleenex and gave her one.

  “You okay? Here, let me take a look.”

  “I’m okay. It’s just a little nip.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to spring out like that.

  She ignored his apology and held the Kleenex to her lip, dabbing at the blood, and she could feel, now when she licked her tongue, how quickly her lip was swelling up.

  “I need the password.”