Beautiful Rose (Elixir Billionaires #1)

5. Rose

5

ROSE

A holler captures our attention, and Kristy presses the button to stop the elevator door from closing. We step out to see what just happened.

The mail boy yells at Zander as he disappears behind the door leading to the stairs up the building. There are mail strewn on the shiny floor.

My legs go weak, and my hands turn clammy with sweat.

How long has he been here? Did he hear us?

“Crab!”

Kristy stares in the same direction, most likely thinking the same thing.

“Do you…think he heard us?” I ask, not even sure if I want an answer.

“I don’t think so,” she replies in a hesitant voice, playing with the strap of her handbag.

“Oh my god. What if he did?” Sweat beads collect over my forehead, and black spots threaten to cloud my vision.

“Don’t panic, Rosie. I don’t think he heard us. Even if he did, it doesn’t matter.”

“What…do you mean?”

Didn’t I just say I was attracted to him ?

Fishing amazing, Rose!

I rub the back of my neck to ease the heaviness kicking in.

“He’s our boss, Kristy. Not just boss, but really like the boss of all bosses in the company.” My hands tremble. I take a few deep breaths, trying to compose myself before I turn into a bundle of nerves and pass out.

Kristy puts her hand over my shoulders and presses on the bunched muscles, knowing it calms my anxiety. She guides me back inside the elevator and peers at me in the mirrored door.

“It’ll be all right. You know, he was eyeing you throughout the meeting. And the way you were avoiding him, he was obviously making you uncomfortable.”

“That’s not news,” I mumble.

I’m uncomfortable around most people, especially when I meet them for the first time. It’s something I might always struggle with. Even my therapist confirmed that on my last visit to her.

Most days, I don’t really mind. I’m already proud that it’s been a few years since I’ve last taken an antidepressant, or a happy pill , as my therapist used to call it.

It could be because of this new life I’ve carved out in this town or the supportive new people who came into my life here. But I think a major part of my progress is owed to one thing that’s been consistently good in my life—my friend Kristy.

Since the day Kristy decided we were supposed to be best friends, she has held my hand and kept to her promise of never leaving me, unlike everyone else.

“What has you thinking so hard?” She peeks over the sunglasses she just put on as we step out of the elevator and into the underground parking lot.

I shake my head and get in the passenger seat. I glance toward my friend as she steers the car. I’m reminded of the moment we walked into the conference room and I caught Zander staring our way.

I thought he was checking Kristy out. Guys do that all the time, and I’m all too happy for the lack of attention. My sneakers and flannel shirts hold no competition to her fitted suits and pencil skirts. But to my surprise he was observing me.

Giddiness that he was looking at me, me and not Kristy, is foreign.

We make quick work of getting home, and the second we do, I unlock the door of our two-bedroom rented home and park myself on the breakfast bar in our open kitchen.

Kristy opens the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of iced tea. After pouring the drink into two glasses, she passes one to me.

“Do you want to know more about him?” She gazes at me above the glass of cold liquid.

“What do you mean?” I look away, feeling uncomfortable under her probing gaze.

My heart beats rapidly as I wipe the condensation on the cold glass. I quickly swipe my smart watch screen to check my rapid heartbeat, but Kristy’s words halt my fingers.

“We could Google him, you know.”

I look up to find her hands clasped on the table as she watches my every move.

“Google? Don’t we already know about him?”

Though this is our first face-to-face meeting with Zander Teager, we’ve seen him and his brothers on numerous business magazine covers, some of which hang in the office corridor. In the annual mandatory online safety training, Zander always talks for the first five minutes about the company’s policies and his vision in a pre-recorded video.

“Not in that way.” Kristy gives me a conspiratorial smile before dashing into her room and returning with her iPad.

“What are you doing?” I try to peek over her shoulder, but she shifts the screen away from me.

“Impatient, are we?” She raises one eyebrow at me.

“No…not at all.” I sit back, but not before reminding her, “You don’t have the day off.”

“I know, spoilsport.”

She finally turns the iPad toward me, and on the small screen are the three Teagers sitting on a couch. The video is around three years old, and Zander looks younger than he did today. There’s a striking resemblance between him and his brothers. Tall. Sculpted shoulders covered in expensive suits. Long fingers. Sun-kissed skin as if they’d recently spent time on a beach.

The interviewer is an attractive blonde girl, bouncing in her seat. She asks numerous questions about the company.

With excitement shining in his eyes, Zander explains how they came up with an idea of a non-traditional pharmaceutical company, Elixir Inc., which, along with drug development, focuses heavily on researching new technologies. Four years ago, when they opened the first office in their hometown of St. Peppers, they had no idea it’d be so successful that a year later they’d be opening another office in the state.

I know quite a lot about the company but not so much about the owner, so I tune out most of the conversation and instead admire the handsome man on the screen.

The way his hands move as he explains about Elixir. The way his eyes sparkle when he talks about their early days. I take everything in. Then the interviewer moves to their personal lives.

“Tell us more about your family,” she asks the three men.

“You are looking at my family.” Zander gives her a lopsided grin, showing his left dimple.

The girl smiles, her cheeks turning pink.

Ouch. I run my tongue over the inside of my cheek where I’ve just bitten accidentally. I don’t really like her getting all chummy with Zander .

“Of course, but what about your parents?”

Zander’s gaze darts from the blonde to his brothers as he runs his fingers through his hair. He blinks rapidly for a second as if clearing out a fearful memory. It’s ephemeral, but my own experiences have made me more observant. It also might be because my gaze hasn’t moved from him for a second.

Zander tries to act nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders. “Our parents passed away when we were very young. We spent some time in foster care before Ashcroft Miller took us in.”

Oh my!

I look at Kristy and her worried gaze is fixed on me. But the interviewer appears satisfied with the answer.

After finishing the hour-long interview, I prepare myself an avocado and grilled cheese sandwich and bring it to my room while Kristy is up to her ears in online meetings.

I fall onto the bed and think back to the unusual day, or one stranger in particular.My gaze scoots up to the Wolverine collage on the wall. When I heard Zander’s soul-spearing baritone voice in the small closet, it somehow reminded me of Wolverine.

I grin at the comparison.

My mind replays the moment Zander’s eyes met mine for the first time. On such rare occasions, I’m thankful for my photographic memory. I can still feel the unexplained heat and warmth coursing through my body.

I get up from the bed and walk toward the photo frame hanging proud on the wall. It’s a cheap black wooden frame that holds a shabby collage of superhero images from newspaper clippings. But it’s one of the most cherished memories of my otherwise frigid childhood. I waited seven months to find a perfect picture of Wolverine, which now sits in the center of the collage.

I remember the day Kristy’s mom, Sophia, brought me comics for the first time. She asked me to choose one out of the three colorful illustrated books. There were superheroes fighting against the bad despite their twisted past, and I believed in those stories. I still do.

Two of the three books were of masked superheroes in a spider and bat mask, but my childhood brain was fascinated by the man who had claws on his hands—claws sharp enough to even cut metal. A thought appeared in my then-immature mind. If only I had such claws, I might have avoided all my nightmares.

I now understand that it was not my most intelligent thought.

But isn’t life about getting hopes from wherever you can?

For me, it was those colorful rough pages and the tiny letters written in white bubbled spaces.

They told me my life wasn’t over just yet. There were things beyond what I’d seen, what I’d suffered. There was a life beyond mine, waiting for me. I soon became a huge Wolverine fan, and the giant comic book collection under my bed is a testament to that.

After tracing my fingers along the cold glass over the shiny metal claws one last time, I amble to my study table.

I put together a presentation about upcoming grant applications and the professors interested in collaboration. I add each of my team members who would fit well in these new roles.

My hands falter as I draft an email to Kristy and Oscar, attaching the slides so they can appoint someone to present this to Zander.The feeling of relief I usually feel when I’m out of any social situation is not as strong today. Maybe—

Stupid, stupid Rose. What the hell are you thinking?

I’ll possibly end up having a panic attack before I even walk into that conference room, knowing I have to speak to not just anyone but my attractive, Wolverine-voiced CEO.

My senses return and I hit send.