I swing it open. “Wow. That was quick. Should I worry because you were so close to my house?” I ask him teasingly.
He laughs. “I hoped you’d say yes, but if you didn’t, I’d have driven past your house and gone home. I don’t have stalker tendencies.” His eyes glide over me. “You look great.”
“Thanks.” I take him in from his loosened tie to his Italian leather shoes. “You, too. I see you’re getting used to my nickname.”
“It doesn’t roll off my tongue easily, but I respect your wishes, even though I prefer to call you Katarina.”
Looking down at my jeans and cotton T-shirt, I say, “Let me change into something nicer.”
Without waiting for an answer, I turn and head toward my bedroom. His grip on my elbow pulls me back.
“You look amazing the way you are. There’s no need to change. Let’s go to the Asian restaurant up the street. If they don’t have a good dessert selection, I’ll take you someplace else.”
Once I slip into shoes, he walks me to his car and opens the door. He’s always a gentleman, and I never tire of his good manners.
At the restaurant, he orders a combo platter while I get deep-fried banana wontons with caramel sauce and ice cream.
“Now that we’re here, let’s talk about the book,” he says just as they deliver the food to our table.
The mention of the book makes me blush. Texting about it is one thing, but talking about it face-to-face is different.
“I haven’t completed the pages I was supposed to read. As you can imagine, I’m busy with school and stuff.”
“You’re blushing, Kat. Surely, two friends can discuss a book.” He says this with a straight face, but there’s mischief in his eyes. He knows this makes me uncomfortable, and he gets something out of it, which only makes me want to rise to the challenge.
“Certainly,” I say, not willing to let him get the best of me. “I’m on page one hundred fifteen. She signed the contract and agreed to a limited term as his mistress. He insists on full control while he employs her.” I cut my wontons in pieces. “Why would someone give up so much? What’s in it for her?”
“There’s the money, but ultimately I think she wants to relinquish control. Her character is organized and tidy and somewhat OCD. That takes a lot out of a person. To have someone else decide for a while might be nice for her. It’s also the only way she can be with him. And her need to be with him is stronger than her need to be independent.” He places a piece of broccoli in his mouth.
“Hmm. I don’t think money plays any part in it. I agree it’s the only way she can be with him. The attraction between them is stronger than anything she’s felt before.” I lick the ice cream from my spoon and set it down. “On some level, I think it’s bold of her to allow herself to be vulnerable.”
Choking on his food, he takes a sip of water before continuing. “Why does being with him make her vulnerable?” He places another forkful of food into his mouth and chews while waiting for my response.
“He’s introducing her to a world she is unfamiliar with. It takes courage to step out of your comfort zone.”
He nods. “Yes, it does. When you accompanied me to the hospital benefit, you were out of your comfort zone, but you did it for your friend. It turned out well for your friend, and I think you enjoyed it, too. Am I correct?” His eyes watch me intently.
“I had a great time. It was one of the most memorable nights of my life.” I look at him and see a flash of relief pass. It would appear that my happiness matters to him.
“Sometimes, what may seem out of the ordinary can become something pleasurable.”
“I can’t argue with that.” I pick up a deep-fried wonton dripping with melted coconut ice cream. “Who would have thought banana wantons could be this good?”
Damon laughs. “What do you think of his particular tastes?”
“Well, short of the contract that talked about various sexual activities, some of which I had to look up on the web, I haven’t arrived at the point where his depravity presents itself.”
“Why is it depravity? You like bananas, but I detest them. Does it make us distinctively different because we have different preferences? Am I a worse human for not liking bananas?”
I think for a few minutes and conclude he’s right. We all have different likes and dislikes, and just because I don’t share someone else’s desires, doesn’t make me better and them worse. “I agree with you. It’s okay as long as both parties are willing.”
“She signed the contract.”
“Yes, she did, but I wonder if her judgment is clouded by her attraction to him.” Didn’t that sound familiar?
“That could be, but she seems like a bright woman.”
We sip our tea in silence. I think about the resemblance between the characters in the book and my story with Damon. Thank goodness I jumped off the train before I got too far along.
“I had a great time. Thanks for coming out with me on such short notice. We killed two birds with one stone. We got to discuss the book and eat. Shall we make a habit of this? Just two friends, having dinner and discussing a good read?”
Part of me wants to say yes, but the sane part knows I should say no. Too bad that part never wins. “Yes, on one condition. We take turns paying for dinner. Next week, I’ll choose the place, and I’ll pay, but you can still drive. Let’s keep Wednesday open for book discussions.”
He’s visibly excited to negotiate a weekly Wednesday date.
Wait, this isn’t a date. It’s more like a book club meeting.
“Perfect. Same time next week, then? I’ll pick you up at seven.”
He pays the bill and takes me home. He walks me to my front door and waits until I open it. Chivalry is not dead.
Before turning to leave, he bends over and brushes his soft lips against my forehead. I’m certain he’ll give me another one of his panty-twisting kisses, but sadly, he doesn’t. I set the rules, and he’s playing by them.
Chapter Eight
Thursday afternoon, I fill out paperwork and watch safety videos. Friday, I arrive at eight o’clock and meet Trevor on the third floor, where the public relations and advertising offices are located.
He takes me on a tour of the building, but thankfully we avoid the executive offices. I don’t want Damon to know I’m working for his company. It’s important for me to have an authentic experience, one that won’t be changed by his influence.
Trevor sits down with me and outlines the grand opening plans. The official party will take place on June fifteenth. The complex features ten bars within six distinctive environments. Ahz includes three ultra-modern dance floors complete with state-of-the-art audio and visual enhancements. It hosts a ninety-foot stage for live musical performances, a modern VIP lounge, and a rooftop terrace offering spectacular skyline views.
The first floor has Anthony Haywood’s. The fifth floor contains the VIP lounge. Floors two through four make up the live performance venues. The sixth floor is rather unique. It has a glass floor so the people in the VIP lounge can see everything that’s happening above them, and vice versa. Trevor plans to take me on a tour of the entire building next week.
He outlines my duties, which means I’m basically the go-to girl for everything no one else wants to do, and I’m okay with that. I’m excited to be here, soaking everything in like a sponge.
Trevor gives me his background, telling me he went to school back east and has been working for Noble Enterprises for five years. He has successfully opened over half the clubs for Zenith with the most recent opening in London.
“How was working in London?”
“It’s different from opening a club here. We always open with a top-rated performer, and they always have specific things they require. In London, we opened with an American band. Have you heard of Mystic Mavens?”
“Yes, they’re not my cup of tea, but they have a huge following.”
“They also have huge egos, and here’s where we come in. It�
��s our responsibility to secure the act, but we also have to make them happy. That’s the biggest challenge. Mystic Mavens were impossible.” He grumbles something unintelligible. “They insisted on American-made products. They wanted special drinks and special foods, special lotions, and specific toilet paper,” he explains. “We paid them an extravagant amount of money, yet they continued to make demands. They wanted gift bags in their rooms that contained everything from L’Occitane to Cartier. I had to charter a private plane to deliver everything they required, and we had to pay a fortune in import taxes.”
“Wow. That must have been pricey. What did you learn from the experience?”
“I learned I should hire a local band,” he says as he laughs. “In the end, the opening was a success, and the London location is one of our most profitable sites.”
“What’s the key to your success?” I have three months to learn everything I can from him, so I’ll ask questions until he turns blue from answering me.
“I think it’s all in the details. The big things are easy. Booking the entertainment is the small stuff. It’s everything that happens in between the concept and opening day that matters.” Shifting in his chair, he continues. “You need to know everything that’s happening in the world. If there is a caviar shortage, you don’t want to have it on the menu for your grand opening. If your guest of honor is allergic to nuts, don’t serve baklava. Anticipate everything and everyone’s needs. That way, you won’t get caught unprepared.”
“Who is the opening act for Ahz?” I ask.
“That will remain a secret, but it will be the biggest thing happening in the Los Angeles area this summer. I’m going to have you help me come up with gift packages for our VIP guests. We need one hundred gift bags, and your budget is one thousand dollars.”
“I have to make one hundred memorable gifts, and I only have a budget of one thousand dollars?” My voice sounds panicked.
“You have a budget of a thousand dollars for each gift.” Trevor shows me to the cubicle I’ll use during my internship. “There’s a list of previous sponsors on your desk. Sometimes companies will donate their products to get exposure. Feel free to call any of these sponsors and or companies you feel would benefit from an opening like ours. I imagine the value of each gift bag will range between five thousand and ten thousand dollars when it’s all said and done.” He rises from his chair and walks to the door. “I’m heading out for the rest of the day. I want you to work on the gifts. I’ll meet you here on Monday at eight o’clock so we can take a ride to Ahz. Have a great weekend, Kat.”
I feel overwhelmed with the major undertaking he assigned. Sitting in front of me is a list of over one hundred sponsors, from Tiffany’s to Oakley. I look over the various companies and place stars next to the places that make sense. I want these gift bags to mean something. Anything having to do with dining, music, entertainment, or food stays. I place all other products on a secondary list. Companies like Tiffany’s and Pandora stay on a maybe list. They may have items that fit in with the theme, like a cool charm or key chain. I’ll contact them if I need anything additional for the bags. Within an hour, I have reduced the list to fifty potential companies.
Two hours later, I have placed calls to twenty-seven of them. Seven have guaranteed a donation, and I’ll follow up with the rest on Monday. I’d love it if I didn’t have to spend anything on the gift bags. If I could get everything donated, I could save the company a hundred thousand dollars. It’s probably a pittance to a corporation as large as Noble Enterprises, but I’d feel a great sense of accomplishment if I could do that. It would also look great on my resume.
Clocking out for the day, I take the stairs to the garage. I try to avoid places where I might run into Damon, and since his offices are on the top floor, I imagine he takes the elevator each day. Five flights of stairs several days a week will give me a good workout, as well as keep me out of sight.
“Hey, Kat. How was your first real day at work?” Em calls from the kitchen as I walk in the front door. Something smells amazing, and I hope she’s made enough for two.
“It was so good. Trevor is a great guy. He was thorough and made me feel comfortable.” I inch toward the stove to see what’s in the pot she’s stirring. “I avoided Damon, so that’s a plus.”
“Will you ever tell him you’re interning at his company?”
“Not if I can help it. I don’t want him interfering in my experience. I don’t want to get special treatment because I know him.” I look over her shoulder. “Is that spaghetti I smell?”
“Yes, are you hungry? I made a bunch. I’m taking some to Anthony’s, but there’s plenty for you to enjoy.”
“I’m starving.” Taking a seat at the table, I watch Em finish making dinner. “Make sure Anthony says nothing to Damon. Okay?”
“I didn’t tell him you got the job.” She hands me a bowl of pasta sprinkled with parmesan cheese.
The scent of oregano and Italian spices rise with the steam. “Thanks, Em. It’s great having you home.”
She gives me a wide smile before I dig into the big bowl of happiness.
Fed and satisfied, I move to the living room and sit down on the couch with my copy of Bound. Wondering where Damon is in the book, I send him a text.
I’m trying to catch up to you. What page are you on? How is it a man as busy as you has time to read frivolous materials?
He responds immediately.
So, the beautiful Katarina is chasing me, so to speak. I’m on page one hundred and fifty. I won’t go any further so we can be on the same page for our Wednesday night meeting. Where are we going?
I think Mongolian BBQ. Will that work for you?
Can I call you? I hate texting long messages.
Yes.
Seconds later, my phone rings, and I answer with a slow, soft, “Hello, Damon.”
“Hello, Kat, how was your day?”
“It was good. You know, the same old stuff—school and work.”
“I thought you didn’t have school on Fridays?”
Oh, shit, I almost blew it and try to salvage my mistake. “No school today. Just a bunch of research.” It’s not a lie. I called a lot of companies regarding donations. “What about you?”
“Things are moving fast with Ahz, and the closer we get to the grand opening, the more frantic things become.”
“What about Anthony? Is he helping?”
“His staff is pulling their weight. Em has been helping with marketing on the Anthony Haywood side, but it’s still a lot of balls to juggle. Everything is moving in the right direction.” He stalled for a minute. “Would you like to come to the grand opening?”
I’m floored by his invitation. It’s the biggest thing happening this summer. Would I like to attend? Duh!
“I’d love to come, but I’m sure you have more important people to invite.”
“There is no one I’d want to invite more than you. I’m sure Emma will accompany Anthony, but if she doesn’t, I’ll get her an invitation. Oh, by the way, my mom asked about you and insisted I bring you to Sunday dinner. I told her you work and probably couldn’t come, but I’d be a bad son if I didn’t pass on her message.”
“Your mom invited me to dinner?”
“You impressed her at the fundraiser, and she wants to enjoy your company in a relaxed environment. We try to meet up for a meal once a month, and this Sunday is our day.”
“I’m flattered, but I don’t want to interrupt family time with your mother.”
“Please, come and save me from my mother’s monthly dating inquisition.”
“Are you begging me?” I imagined him in front of me on his knees.
“Will it help?”
“I like being in this position. It makes me feel powerful.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a dominant.”
“I don’t see myself that way, but I’m open to new experiences.”
“Is that right? You know, I’m happy to teach you anything you want to k
now.”
“Are we still talking about dinner?”
“We are. What else would I be referring to?” His deep, full laugh makes me feel warm from my insides out.
“Pick me up at Java Joes at five.”
“My mom will be ecstatic.”
“What about you?” I’m playing with fire by teasing him. I know it’s not wise, but it sure is fun.
“I’ll rejoice with her. See you Sunday. Dress casually.”
“See you.” I hang up feeling joyous.
For the next fifteen minutes, my thoughts are all on Damon. I close my eyes and envision his physical attributes and imagine his tall, slender body, broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs. I can see his dark hair, blue eyes, and his soft, supple lips ... oh, those lips that make me lose all thought. Yep, Damon Noble is trouble—big trouble—for me.
Saturday flies by, but Sunday drags on. I look at the clock for the tenth time that hour and swear it doesn’t move. This time with Damon is all I’ve thought about since Friday night. Though we spoke last night, too, the conversation was short, and I hung up wanting more.
The clock seems to move backward as I busy myself by cleaning the espresso machine and stocking supplies for the next shift. With a damp rag in my hands, I turn around to wipe the counters and find the Viking god leaning against the wall, staring at me. He’s always watching me.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Waiting for you to get off work. Can I get a coffee to take with me?”
“Geez.” I toss the rag into the sink behind me. “You’d think this was a coffee shop,” I say teasingly. “What’s your poison, Mr. Noble?”
“A plain-brewed coffee will be perfect. I’m a simple man.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Chapter Nine
I take advantage of the twenty-minute drive to Brentwood to study Damon’s profile. His hair parts from left to right, leaving the bulk of it sweeping toward me. The blue of his eyes is the most vivid color of blue imaginable—the color of an Alaskan glacier.
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