by Tara Oakes
The kitchen is filled with lingering traces of bacon and I help myself to a slice from the plate in the warming drawer of the range. Momma always leaves me breakfast when I sleep in. I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed, even though it’s no longer the kitchen of my youth that she prepares it in. A bowl of fruit salad and a piece of toast round out my meal.
Heading back to my bedroom, I notice an envelope with the letter “V” on the cover, propped up against the mirror on my dresser. I reach for it without hesitation, knowing full well who it is from.
V-
We never finished our talk last night. I have time this afternoon. You should come to the city and we can meet up. I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say. Meet me at my office around 3. My driver will take you.
Dom
P.S.- You snore.
Jerk. I am 99.99% sure I don’t snore. I can just pretend I never found the note, after hearing him basically planning to “handle” me his way, I’m not about to make it any easier on the traitor by simply waltzing into his office to be a pawn in whatever he and John were talking about.
I busy myself by unpacking the last of my things and check my email. Stephanie’s message is a welcomed distraction. I open it and instantly depress myself by missing my best friend. I want to tell her all about last night, but think I’ll come off sounding like a conspiracy-crazed stalker that listens to to other people’s phone calls and closed door conversations, imagining them plotting against me.
According to her text, she is sorry she missed my at Flynn’s, but, as I suspected, she was inebriated. She would be in Tahiti for the next two weeks, but will email me again soon.
I reorganize my drawers twice while stealing glances at the clock. Who am I kidding? I want to hear for myself what Dom has to say. Maybe I’ll get some answers to what is going on and how it has anything to do with me. I wrestle with myself before finally giving in and showering to get ready to go into Manhattan and see for myself what he wants.
I pick a lightweight, short summer wrap dress that hugs my curves, the mint green color really pops against my olive skin. I smooth a thin layer of lotion over my legs before slipping on a pair of strappy sandals. Not wanting to overdress for the afternoon, I sweep my hair into a loose band over my shoulder and dab on some light makeup for a fresh, natural look.
Here we go.
Dom’s driver is reading the paper in the car as I walk out of the house. Mom, Aunt Rosie and Nonna haven’t returned from their shopping trip yet, so I leave the empty house behind without a goodbye to anyone. The driver greets me while opening my door. The cool interior of the sleek sedan is a welcome change from the climbing temperature outside.
I can’t help but think that the driver must be overly warm in his dark suit, but shows no outward signs of discomfort. He must be relieved as he sits back into his seat with the cool conditioned air circulating around him. He slowly starts to drive the new car down the drive toward the main gate while catching my gaze in the rearview mirror.
“It should be a smooth drive into the office, Miss Lombardi. I can’t see it taking more than thirty minutes or so. Please let me know if it gets too cool.”
I smile at the man’s warm eyes on me. “Thank you. It’s fine. But... please... set the air so you’re comfortable, too.”
True to form, the drive is uneventful. Dom’s driver must be very good at his job, because as predicted, we are parked in front of the midtown main offices for The Atlantic Transport and Holdings, in exactly twenty-eight minutes.
The facade of the building remains the same as I remember. The tall, brooding skyscraper looms high in the Manhattan skyline while its polished black exterior and crystal clear windows rival that of its neighbors. The gleaming revolving door leads me to the expansive entrance lobby. A.T.H. Occupies the top ten floors of the building, but I am unsure of which button to press as I step into the rapidly filling elevator.
I can stop first to see Tony in his office on the thirty-eighth floor, or just bite the bullet and go right to see Dom. I decide to head straight to the CEO’s office, and will visit Tony after. This way, I can have someplace to escape to if I need to gripe about Dom pressuring me to bend to John’s will about working here sooner than I’m ready to.
I’m one of the last two people exiting the elevator as it makes its way to the top floor, depositing people on the way. After the doors have fully opened and the older gentleman sharing the cabin with me steps aside, I head down the long corridor toward Dom’s office.
I notice several security guards posted sporadically as I walk along. The endless sounds of phones ringing, fingers typing, and papers shuffling, welcome me into the heart of the company. I look around to find some familiar faces, and many new ones, but settle on the warm plump older woman with grey hair sitting at a large desk beyond on open office door.
Ellen was my father’s secretary back when he ran the company, and was a good friend to my family before I was even born. The years of loyal service have definitely aged the warm woman, but she still has a youthful glow in her eyes. Those eyes glance over me as I walk through the door, before fully recognizing me.
I’m about three years older and a bit taller (thanks to my sandals), than she had last seen me. She pushes herself away from her desk and walks briskly to give me a strong hug before looking me up and down.
“Vincenza! You look so grown up!,” she hugs me once more. Ellen is one of the very few people who call me by my full name. She flat-out refuses to call me anything else. Not V, or thank God, not even Baby V. I was six or seven when she told me that a beautiful girl like me should be called a beautiful name. I never knew my mother’s parents, but I always picture my grandmother to have been like Ellen.
It’s my turn to fully take in the woman standing in front of me. Here eyes have a few more wrinkles around them, and her skin is not as plump as it once was, but Ellen radiates the same warmth and compassion as she had twenty years ago when she would wipe my tears after my brothers (and Dom) would make me cry.
“Hi Ellen!,” I beam. “It’s so good to see you. Not much has changed around here, huh?” I look around while adding, “I see you’re still keeping this place together.” The woman and I share a low laugh, not to disturb the workers nearby.
“How’s your granddaughter? She must be so big by now! Does she still do gymnastics?,” I ask.
Ellen’s face beams with pride, “She’s number two in the state! Gonna take her right through to college. That girl can flip and tumble like nobody’s business!,” She winks at me. “She got that from me. Come see. I’ve got a new picture of her on my computer.”
She leads the way over to her desk and taps on the keyboard to bring the screen to life. A gorgeous dark blond haired girl in a leotard looks back at us, holding a large golden trophy. Ellen nods and adds a narrative to the photo.
“That was the championship last month. She’s got a dozen more trophies like this one at home.”
Just then, the heavy wooden door to Dom’s inner office opens and John steps out. Without hesitation, I drop to the floor before he has the chance to see me. I didn’t intend to see my brother, expecting him to be in his own office in Jersey city.
Ellen stands in shock as her head follows my not so graceful downward decent. I hold my finger up to my lips to beg her silence. As she clearly registers what I am asking, she carefully sits down in her chair, shielding me from view of the two men about to walk passed. She doesn’t miss a beat, even if she is older.
I crawl on all fours slowly as the voices trail slightly around to the front of the reception desk. Ellen’s eyes dart once or twice to me as I try to maneuver around her chair without blowing my cover. The last thing I need is for John and Dom both to start the whole “come work at ATH” chanting together.
They have the home court advantage... I’m on their turf. I can hear John making Dom a promise to email him an update of whatever they have been discussing. Confident that my older brother has left, I crawl a bit furth
er while looking under the small opening under the desk for signs of Dom. I can’t let him catch me getting up from the floor like a child.
I locate him soon enough. By crashing into his legs.
I am paralyzed with embarrassment and can’t bear to look up and read his expression. Heat rises up from my throat, to my cheeks and I close my eyes tight. Shit. I slowly open my eyes to see dark grey trouser pants in front of me. I follow the crease on the center on his pressed pant leg up until my head is tall enough to raise my eyes and see the buckle of his belt and the tip of his tie.
I put on my best innocent-unless-proven guilty smile, and look up. Dom stands peering down at me with an amused cat-like grin on his face.
“How’s the view?”
The view? What view? I’m not looking at any kind of view.
Wait. I’m facing his crotch. Holy crap.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Deciding to be chivalrous, Dom helps me to my feet. I look down at my dress, tugging at the material, and smoothing out the new creases. It buys me some time before I need to look up and acknowledge him in any sort of way. I beg my rosy cheeks to loose their guilty redness. Clearing my throat, I attempt to salvage my dignity.
“Thank you, sir.”
I turn back toward an equally guilty looking Ellen. “No, Ellen. I’m sorry, I don’t see it. Maybe the cleaning crew will find it tonight?” I shrug my shoulders back to stand tall before explaining to Dom, “Ellen lost an earring.”
Not missing a beat, Ellen wraps one ear lobe with her fingers as if to mourn the imaginary lost bauble. I doubt Dom bought it, bet he seems to pacify me.
“Of course,” he is biting his lip hard to control his grin. “Ellen... no calls.”
We enter Dom’s private office, and he closes the door behind us. Dad’s old office still smells the same. I inhale deeply searching for more traces of him. The carpet is new and the walls redone. I don’t blame Dom for that. Wood paneling no longer has a place in an office, or anywhere else for that matter. The furniture is all new except for my dad’s large marble desk. It had been custom made in Rome as a gift from one of ATH’s largest suppliers, and was cherished by my dad.
Dom walks over to the bar area and takes a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge, holding it up above his shoulder without turning to me. “Want one?”
He pours two glasses with ice while I saunter over to the desk, dropping my bag in a chair along the way. I slide up to perch on the desk facing Dom’s broad back.
“Um... OK.” I’m not thirsty... but, two glasses have already been prepared so it doesn’t matter much.
Dom holds a glass in each hand as he turns to come and hand one to me. He spots me sitting on his desk and freezes, not taking more than two steps. It takes him a moment, but somehow recharged, he finishes the journey, placing a glass down on the desk on either side of me, resting his hands next to them.
I can’t read his face. It’s flirty... sure. But it’s also a bit pained as he looks me dead straight in the eyes. “I don’t think you should sit there.”
What’s that supposed to mean? I start to anger at his insinuation that I might be doing something wrong. Not one to be scolded, I unconvincingly make the decision to be a smart ass.
“Oh yeah? Why is that?”
Dom searches my eyes for some trace of meaning behind my words. His eyes cloud over and he almost looks like he’s about to cede some deep dark secret. “Because if you don’t get off my desk in thatdress... I’m never going to be able to concentrate behind it again.” Oh. That’s why.
Breathe. Just breathe.
My body looses all of its ability to maintain basic life support as I try to force myself to inhale and exhale. My mind races, replaying that last sentence to ensure I haven’t misunderstood it. Is he joking? Flirting? Or is he just really pissed off that I’m disrespecting the large antique? I can’t tell. Usually I can read Dom’s tone, but this time surely I’m wrong. My gut tells me that he’s not upset, or being sarcastic. There’s only one way to find out for sure. It’s sink or swim.
I don’t let my eyes budge from his, not letting him intimidate me. Before I have fully formed the sentence in my mind, it’s already flowing from my lips.
“Make me.”
His eyes widen and darken. The small muscle in his jaw twitches. Without blinking, he shoves his hands under my thighs, taking the soft fabric with them. I can feel his strong and lightly callused palms and finger pads on my bare skin... working their way under my leg muscles until they have a solid grip.
I command myself to inhale, exhale, repeat. Just keep breathing.
He pulls his arms suddenly, lifting my bottom off the desk and jerking me toward him. I gasp with the swift, unexpected movement, grabbing his shoulders for support. He holds me there... still... for what seems like forever before sliding his hands up to my lower back, setting me down in front of him. His hands bring the back of my dress with them, acting as a buttery medium for which his palms can easily slide over my flesh as I now stand on my own devices.
I cannot process what’s just happened, what is still happening. Please, whatever this is... don’t stop. Dom lets me go and my dress falls back into place. He leans in and I brace my lips for the onset of his against them. Instead of finishing what he’s started by finally kissing me, he picks up a glass and hands it to me.
“Here, they’re cold. We can both use this about now.”
You have got to be kidding me.
I have never fantasized about Dom kissing me, never willed it to happen, never thought I wanted it to happen. Then he goes and does something like this, whatever this is, and I can’t stop thinking about those gorgeous, full lips pressed on mine. I can practically feel them burning my plumpness with their tender assault. I gulp down the icy cold water as if to cool the imaginary flames. It’s not working as well as I need it to. I need these thoughts to stop... need my lips to stop begging for his.
Dom moves first, walking around the desk and sitting in the captains chair behind it, while polishing off the last bit of drink in his tumbler.
“Please, sit,” he gestures to one of the chairs closest to me.
He really has got to be kidding me. I do as I’m told not out of obedience, but out of disorientation. He sits there, behind the safety of his desk while I feel exposed... vulnerable, even. I cross my arms around myself to give some sort of shield as he speaks.
“Listen, V. I really want to talk to you. I can’t get, er... sidetracked right now. I promised your brother I would handle this today.”
I sit there in silence, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing my voice right now, as I’m sure it would crack. He continues.
“You know what I want to talk to you about. You’re a smart girl. We need you to come to work with us at ATH. I know you don’t think it’s the glamorous, exciting type of place that you want to start off in, where you can actually make some kind of an impact. I honestly didn’t know where you would fit in here, until your mom told me about your graduation present.”
What? Where is he going with this?
“You could have had a trip around the world like Theresa did, and a matching fountain with your name on it. Why did you tell your mom and John that you wanted a scholarship fund instead?”
Does he really expect me to answer him? Seriously? I shrug my shoulders to serve as my answer. It doesn’t affect him.
“I’ll tell you why. Because you’re the kind of person who thinks of others first. You actually give a damn about what people need, instead of what you want. Because of you, a young girl with nothing but dreams and no money to pay for them, is going to get the same opportunities you did. A great education all expenses paid and a real shot at a great life.”
I didn’t know Dom knew about the scholarship. It’s not a secret, but it certainly isn’t something I wanted broadcasted. My arms loosen slightly from around me as he continues.
“We need that kind of thinking here at ATH. Someone to be in charge of all of
the philanthropic deeds we do. But not just that. In times like these, we need to make our employees feel important, protected, and valued. I want to create a whole new department in charge of that. I’m talking everything from choosing which charities we donate to, or which programs we give endowments to. Flowers on an employee’s birthday, or services to help them plan for their kid’s college education.”
He takes a much needed breath.
“If someone who works for me needs help. I want us to be able to have resources available for them to be able to find it. Grief counseling, stress workshops. Really thinking outside the box. My employees are not just walking dollar signs to me. Our dads started this company with a vision to take care of our own. Somehow business got in the way and I want to get back to that core vision. In an economy like this, with all kinds of companies going under and laying off masses of people, I want our employees to know that they are valued. In turn, they will value the company and keep it strong while we ride out this wave. A strong foundation is the key to taking the business that our dads... your dad... started. I know you think John just wants your name somewhere on the payroll to fill the family roster, but I want you to be happy here. I want you to want to be here, where you can really make a difference. That’s it. That’s my pitch. What do you think?”
I am sitting on the edge of my seat, taking in all that Dom has just laid out before me. My mind is veering off in many different directions thinking about the possibilities, all that I can do.
“And John is OK with all of this?” I wonder aloud.
Dom smiles, knowing that the wheels in my head are turning, considering all that his proposition has to offer. “V. I love John like a brother. He’s a great lawyer... the best one we have on our team. But, I run the company. I make the decisions. I listen to his advice and I use it to do what is best for the company. For our company. And believe it or not, he just wants you to be happy and safe. We both think that would be here.”