by Alex Rosa
I heave in a deep breath as I push the door open.
Obviously, I knew that I would have to look him in the eye, but as my eyes lock with his, I’m thrown by their frosty state in combination with the morning sunshine through the blinds behind him.
I swallow down my silly nerves, desperately trying to keep my posture solid as I walk toward the leather chair in front of his desk.
I catch the corner of his mouth doing that thing, again.
“Hi.” It’s a breathy whisper, and I hate myself immediately.
I take a seat, and gather up my wits like my life depends on it. I smooth out my skirt and notice that Troy is watching me like a hawk.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask with much more moxie than before, except it feels more goading than I intend.
He strums his long fingers over his chin as he leans back in his seat. I squirm a bit, getting a flashing memory of a casual looking Troy, rather then the prim and proper one in front of me.
Does he look bad in anything? The way the man fits his tailored suits should be illegal, and the grey in his tie makes his eyes look like a storming ocean.
“I did. I just, I just …” he says, and the tone intrigues me. I’ve been here thirty seconds, and now he’s the one losing it. I think I like this.
I lean forward as his sentence trails off and I suppress a giggle. “… You what? Just wanted to bother me?”
He laughs, and I wish he wouldn’t.
“No. I wanted to see how you were holding up, and to see if you needed help following any of your leads you might have. Work related stuff, ya know?”
Yeah, right. And pigs fly, too.
I nod as I chew the nail of my index finger while eyeing him suspiciously. “Do you have any leads?” I ask.
He turns his chair to more directly face me, as if catching my hint of attitude. “I’m only working on one client right now, if you must know.” His pout is inconsequential to me as I form my reply.
“You’re right. I must know, actually. The Soleil brothers. They’re trickier than you think.”
“I’m aware.” His face empties of emotion, but the spark behind his eyes is still there.
What’s he playing at now?
“I don’t think you are, Troy. They like to play this game. They like to make you think you’ve already got them as a client, but whether you know it or not, they’re going to make you convince them because they can. It’ll take more than a simple dinner. With them, it’s always more complicated.”
“Ya know, Julia, this isn’t my first rodeo. I think I know how to do my job, thank you very much.”
I grumble, finally relaxing back into my seat, and roll my eyes. I’m no longer tense with apprehension, but instead find an odd sense of calm in the way Troy riles me up.
“You’ll see,” I reply as I stretch, and I find that a yawn is quick to appear. For once, I don’t feel smothered by being near him knowing how the Soleil brothers like to play their games. Hell, I remember that Louis wouldn’t agree to work with me until I showed him what being a Californian meant. Which equated to us spending the whole day together being beach bums during the day, and drinking craft beer in the evening. I doubt Louis, or Jacques for that matter, will make this that easy for Troy.
“You either look tired, or well rested. Long weekend?”
Troy’s question pulls me out of my musings. I snap my mouth shut during my second yawn, but grin none-the-less. I get some sort of joy at the lip-twitching edge of curiosity in his look. He’s back to regular Troy, or maybe this is the opposite of who he really is. I can’t tell who the real Troy is yet. But his chin is starkly smooth, and only highlights his raven hair and crystal eyes. Get ahold of yourself.
I think back on the weekend and remember Megan stumbling back across the hall while holding the bottle with the remaining bit of wine as a way to figure out how to answer his question, and I can’t help but manage my words through a few honest giggles.
“I had the funniest encounter this weekend.”
“—During your date?”
This time a loud awkward laugh blurts through my lips. I tilt my head to the side, watching a sheepish version of Troy peek through as he forces himself to sit back. The tension in the air sparks and ignites. I run a hand through my waves, basking in the moment, deciding I’ll spare him for now, but I’m taking mental notes from this absurd situation.
“Actually, no. I had been kind of ogling this super beautiful girl who lives in my building in the hopes she’d become my friend, but she was pretty much rude to me every time. Anyway, we had this funny meeting of sorts at one in the morning. She ended up coming over to my house and we talked about her break-up woes. I even managed to become friends with her in the end. She’s disgustingly clever for being so damn pretty, and a narcissist, but she’s still nice.” I pause, gritting my teeth. “You’d probably like her. She’s your type.”
Troy sits up, overly enthused by the comment, and he moves his long fingers back to stroking his distracting mouth, and I force myself not to stare.
“My type? How would you know my type?” His eyes drag heavily over my body for the first time since arriving in his office. I try not to fidget.
Shit. He’s going to make a meal out of this, isn’t he? I shouldn’t have said that.
“Call it a guess,” I snort through my embarrassment, which doesn’t help the cause at all.
“I asked you out, didn’t I?”
“Well, your date obviously didn’t work out Friday night since you were home so early, so I consider myself the ‘Plan B’ to your shenanigans.”
The knitting of his brows, and the visible wrinkles that appear above them throws me.
“Why would you ever say something like that?”
I shrug. “I’m a brunette from California with more brains than beauty, being a Plan B is something I’ve just come to terms with. It’s fine.”
“Julia, that’s insane,” he says crisply, and in such a demanding way that I feel a tug low in my belly at hearing it. “I told you I’d tell you why I wanted to take you out in the first place, and I’d happily tell you now—“
“No-No, Troy. Please stop.” I shake my head a little too frantically, while shamelessly tugging at my blouse, wishing I had tried a little harder on a Monday morning.
My face goes crimson, and the soreness in my cheeks from laughing so much this weekend is the only way I know that the corners of my mouth are trying desperately to form a smile.
What could he possibly say? And why does he want to say it anyway? I’m tempted to ask him all of the above and for him to cut the shit, and to go back to trying to get me fired.
“Troy, is there anything else you wanted from me? I have no leads to share currently,” I say, trying to get this back on a more professional playing field as I press a palm to my flushed cheek.
“So, is that still a no then? Because, in case you need clarification, you’re not second rate, or a plan whatever to anyone.”
My mouth falls open, but I just as quickly shut it.
I don’t know how it became a game between us, but I find myself wanting to play it even though I have no idea what the rules might be, if any.
I cross my left leg slowly over my right, revealing more of my thigh, and the brief edge of my thigh-high pantyhose. I had been in such a rush this morning that these were a last minute, haphazard decision that at first I regretted, but right now, I’m grateful as it gets Troy’s immediate attention as intended.
Toying with Troy might’ve just become my most favorite thing, and oh god, it absolutely shouldn’t be.
“Are you asking me out again?”
He leans back in his chair, and shamelessly loosens his tie as he lifts his eyes from my leg. He clenches his jaw. “What if I am?”
“It’s kind of bold, even for you.”
He lifts a careless shoulder. “Maybe not. Last time we really didn’t talk about why you said no in the firs
t place, regardless of your ridiculous insecurities, which you shouldn’t have. At all.”
I can’t help the squirrely twist to my lips. “Besides trying to keep a working relationship, how about the fact that I don’t like you?”
He pouts, and I find it strange that his bottomless eyes lock onto mine with intimidating, and possibly panty-wetting, determination. “We both know that isn’t true.”
My mouth goes dry, and I want to retaliate, however, for once, I don’t have the words. Instead, I rise from my seat. I try for a scowl, but my lips don’t want to cooperate, and I have to try and hide a smile as I leave.
I’ve had enough of Troy Dillinger this morning.
He doesn’t stop me, and that’s how I know, and worry, that it won’t be the last time he mentions this prevalent topic between us. I don’t know whether to be excited, or terrified, or downright annoyed.
I’m tempted to run to my office, throw all the files I’ve been secretly developing onto his desk as a desperate attempt to get his one track mind back to work. It would be my own version of surrender. However, I get the sinking feeling Troy wouldn’t take my surrender the way I’d like.
I enter the open office, and finally allow myself to breathe.
I scurry to my office, peering down at my glorious Louboutins with each stride, and every time I look at them I want to give them some credit to my new found confidence. It was something I struggled with in California, whether it was with my father or ex-boyfriend, but at least never with my job. I can only assume this newfound feistiness has brewed elsewhere, and my guess is it started when I purchased these beauties. Or with Troy, but hell, I’ll never give him that credit.
I move past Claire without a sound, and close the door frantically before flinging myself into my seat to search for a sense of calm.
Trying for normality, I grab my phone to find a text messages from Noah. My heart plummets to my stomach, and I shake my head in the solidarity of my office.
His texts are gut wrenchingly adorable.
Hope your work day isn’t filled with too much abuse. I already want to kiss you again, when can I see you? Please tell me you’re free Friday night?
Oh, Noah! I hug my phone, coming to the instant realization that I can’t be doing this. I can’t flirt with Troy during the day. It’s not right. Noah is the nice guy. He doesn’t deserve that. I like him, I really do, and I want to be the right kind of girl for him.
I don’t even like Troy, I remind myself.
I text Noah back, telling him I can’t wait to see him Friday.
This is the right thing to do. I’ll get things back on track.
The door to my office flies open, and the orbs I was secretly damning only seconds ago collide with mine, and it knocks the wind out of me.
I still manage to stand, while pointing a shaky finger at him. “Troy, what are you doing? We have an assistant, ya know? The one you used to summon me could easily have been used again. You didn’t even knock.”
His comical Cheshire grin confuses me. I watch him shut the door behind him. I have no idea what’s going on.
“I need you.” He blurts out.
I’m already shaking my head. “Argh! Troy, you have to stop this!”
His laugher cuts me off, and it instantly embarrasses and infuriates me.
“No, not like that. I mean I could totally need you that way if you let me, but—“
“—Troy, you better have a damn good reason for bursting into my office right now.”
I see him looking at my files on my desk with names I know he recognizes, so when he swings his stare back to mine he’s gone back to disapproving jerk.
He grits his teeth, seemingly choosing to ignore the mess on my desk. “You were right.”
This time I let one shoulder slump dramatically and laugh, “Well, duh.”
He tilts his head to the side, almost appreciating something, but at the same time rejecting it. “Here’s a New York tip. Don’t say duh.”
I’m tempted to tell him all the curse words I learned on the subway as retaliation, but he continues, “I need you to come with me and the Soleils Friday night.”
I cross my arms over my chest, staring right back.
“Stop looking at me like that, okay? I’m here asking for help now, aren’t I? Isn’t this what you want?”
I find too much joy in his pleading tone. I look on bemused as I watch him casually take a seat on the single brown leather chair that matches the one in his office that’s in front of my desk.
His look of nonchalance is an arrogant reflex, I can tell.
“You’re only asking for my help because you have to.”
He closes his eyes while pulling in a deep breath, as if battling some war within himself.
When they open, they’re blazing with annoying sincerity as he says, “You’re right. If you want the truth, I figured you were right in the first place, but my pride wouldn’t let me admit it. I figured that whatever they were going to demand that I would find a way around it. That is until they made their demand.”
Curiously, and now giving him my full attention, I take a seat behind my desk. “What’s their demand?”
He shrugs while a wry twist forms on his lips. His eyes never budge from mine, eliciting that lower abdominal squirm all over again. I could so use some fresh air.
“You,” he blurts out.
I gulp down his word. “Me? I don’t understand.”
“I do,” he says in almost a whisper that I don’t think I’m supposed to hear. “I had every intention of taking them out Friday night. We’d hit up a swanky restaurant, and then hit a nightclub to give them a taste of the city and what we could also offer …”
“… And?” I ask. “Seems like a solid plan.”
“Thanks,” he replies curtly. “They think so too, except, they have only one condition. You. You have to come. They don’t trust me, and they seem to think it wouldn’t be a night out on the town without a beautiful woman present. That’s a direct quote by the way.”
How many times am I going to turn the color of a tomato today?
“Troy, this is ridiculous.”
He shrugs.
“Well … tell them I can’t,” I retort.
He tenses in his seat, sitting up straight. “What do you mean you can’t? You have to. This is business.”
I grab for my pen, and chew neurotically on the plastic lid. “I know, but I already have plans.”
Troy strokes his jaw, as if dumbfounded by the response. “Date number two?”
The jealousy is so evident in the question that it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand.
I gift him with a look of annoyance. “Yes, if you must know.”
“You’re right. I must know, actually,” he says mimicking me from earlier, and I hate that I want to laugh. “I don’t care what you do, but you’re canceling it. Reschedule it or something. I don’t want to treat you like a bartering tool, but this client is someone who your uncle has wanted for a very long time.”
“I’m aware Troy, it’s a running joke in my family.”
He jumps back at hearing my words. “A running joke?”
I wave my hand haphazardly between us. “Yeah, it’s complicated. You don’t know much about me, or maybe you do, and you’re not aware. My father owns a similar company to this one in California. Los Angeles, to be specific. My Dad and Paul are brothers, right? Well, it became a game to see who could score the biggest clients first. Guess who helped snag the Soleils first?”
Intrigued, Troy asks, “Your dad. You worked for Gold Coast Design?”
“Actually, I snagged the Soleils, but my dad took the credit. Now, the two of them, my dad and uncle, are constantly competing with each other. I kid you not they compare their bottom lines at every Christmas dinner when the end of the year numbers come in.”
“Wow,” is the only word Troy can muster.
“Yeah,” I reply br
usquely. “Technically, the Soleils demand is quite similar to the last one they made when I was involved.”
“See!” Troy exclaims. “Then you of all people should understand the situation. You have to come out with us. We’ll party hard and show them. It’s the only way they’ll sign. Paul wants it. I want it. I know even you want it.”
I wince at hearing the word party, but know what he’s saying is right. I want to be able to help my uncle with this, but will I finally get the credit I deserve? The credit my father never gave me?
Oh, my therapist would have a field day with this,
“Hmm.” I peer at my phone, and then back to Troy. “Alright, fine. But I have to make some things clear.”
His face gets serious as I watch his deft, deliberate movements as he unbuttons his blazer jacket to get more comfortable. I gulp down my heart that barrels up my throat.
“I like this guy I’m dating and in order for me to agree to going out, you need to promise you’ll behave.”
His devilish grin is not what I expect. My heart jolts.
“I’ll behave.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
He chews the inside of his cheek for a second. “Are you telling me I have to give up on you?”
It feels like the most absurd thing for him to say considering only days ago I was so sure that if I turned up in a ditch dead he’d barely bat an eye.
“Yes, I am. I make the decisions in this department.”
His goading pout is another steamroller to my hormonal well-being. “You get to make the choices then? Okay, I can handle that.” He says, while nodding through his words.
“Why do you say it like that?”
He turns away, pretending to lift an invisible piece of lint off of his toned, thick thigh encased in his slacks before giving me the most effortless look that he could ever manage. “I agree to your terms, and I promise I won’t cross the line if it gets you to come out Friday night. But that just means I’m just going to have to convince you to choose me.”
My jaw might have just slammed onto the floor. “Troy, this isn’t a gam—“
“—No-no, Julia. I get it.” He waves an arrogant hand this time, stopping my words as he stands, and a wicked grin that matches that ice-storm of a stare has me all sorts of worried, excited, and … fuming. “Good luck with the rest of your work week. I look forward to our business outing Friday night.”