13. Nikki
The next morning,bright and early, I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. Pawing at my nightstand, I squinted at the screen.
An unlisted number, which meant one thing.
“Hello, Blakely,” I said, flopping onto my back.
“It sounds like I woke you up.”
I rubbed my eyes and huffed. “That’s because you did.”
“It’s nearly nine o’clock in the morning, Jordan. What are you still doing in bed?”
“You had me at that charity gala until after midnight. I didn’t fall asleep until two. I was wired.” Now, the reason I was wired was because my heart pounded every time my boss’s hand touched my elbow or my back, and when I got home, I was so full of nervous energy I ended up scrubbing my kitchen for an hour after stripping my dress and makeup off. But he didn’t have to know that.
When he answered, his voice was gruff. “Well, get up and get ready. I have a lunch meeting with an old client, and I want you there.”
“Dress code?”
“Business casual. The car will pick you up at eleven.”
“Anything I need to know about who we’re meeting?”
“Clara’s sending a dossier through now. Read it and get ready.”
The phone clicked off. I pulled it away from my face to stare at the screen, then stuck my tongue out at it. He didn’t get to wake me up after keeping me out all night, boss me around, then hang up on me.
Although, I guess that was my job now, so he could do whatever he wanted. Groaning, I rolled to the edge of my bed and threw the blankets off. My feet hit the floor, aching from their time in those fabulous heels last night. I stood and stretched my back out, then shuffled to the bathroom to do as I was told.
Now, I’d never been a lazy person. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to work—in fact, in the short amount of time I’d been in the position, I spent many hours educating myself on the people in Rome Blakely’s social and professional circles, then made sure I was prepared for every event coming up on the schedule.
This included attending briefings at the Blakely offices with Clara and other members of the team, as well as going back through the company’s archives to make sure I knew about brand relationships and campaigns that had been significant, depending on who would be attending each event.
So it wasn’t that I wanted a free ride. I was working more than I ever had before—although a lot of the work was enjoyable. For example, when I spent four hours getting my hair and nails done before last night’s gala and deciding on the exact perfect dress to purchase.
By the time I’d fixed my hair into an updo—it still had a lot of product in it from last night’s event, so I did the best I could—and slipped on some vintage cigarette pants and a button-down top, my phone buzzed to let me know the car was downstairs.
“Hi, Keith,” I said to the usual driver who held the door open. Peeking inside, I asked, “No boss today?”
“We’ll pick him up on the way.”
“Got it.”
My knee bounced as I clipped my seatbelt on, and I pulled out my compact to check my makeup once again. When we pulled out to start heading toward Manhattan, a flutter went through my belly.
I channeled my nervous energy into studying the document Clara had sent through. It didn’t take me long to become engrossed in it. We were meeting three men who were planning a Super Bowl commercial for the following year’s event, which our company was hoping to produce.
I jumped when the door next to me opened. Suddenly, the car was full of Rome. He sat next to me as Keith closed the door, his eyes coasting over my hair, makeup, and outfit.
“You made it,” he noted. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”
“Hello to you too, Mr. Blakely,” I answered with a heavy dose of snark. “Of course I made it. I take my job seriously.”
His eyes were dark in the dimness of the back seat. He blinked slowly, nodding once. “You sounded exceptionally groggy, is all.” He paused. “Did something keep you up last night?”
Keith drove smoothly, but my heart still hammered. This was ridiculous. I wouldn’t be able to accompany my boss to all these events if I got tongue-tied every time he looked at me. Was he tall, attractive, and commanding? Yes. Did he make me wonder what it would feel like to be his, even for just a moment? Sure. I was human, after all.
But was I a complete idiot and about to give in to those urges? Absolutely not.
So, I covered my nerves with a snort. “As a matter of fact, something did,” I told him. “Or rather, someone.”
His body went still. “Oh?”
“A man, specifically.”
“A man.” He gritted out the words. The focus of his attention felt almost heavy. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and then he relaxed, as if by force of effort. “I wasn’t aware you were seeing anyone. That might get complicated. You remember that you signed an NDA?”
“The man that kept me up insisted on parading me around this charity event long after most of his clients had left, and then instead of letting me go home and go to bed, he drove there with me and insisted on debriefing me when it was well past midnight.”
The air in the limo, which had become stifling, lightened considerably. I met Keith’s inscrutable gaze in the rearview mirror, then turned to Blakely and popped a brow.
He gave me a stony glare. “Get used to it, princess. We’ll debrief after every event.”
I hummed, and the car stopped. We’d arrived at the restaurant.
The lunch went well. I discovered that one of the men was an avid scuba diver and spent most of the meal talking to him about his various dives. I had just been reviewing one of the underwater campaigns that the Blakely Advertising Agency had done for yet another perfume launch, and I’d gone down a research rabbit hole about diving. So I was able to pretend like I knew what I was talking about—at least enough to carry my side of the conversation.
Being a companion to Rome Blakely, it turned out, was easy. People loved talking about themselves—and the powerful people who ran companies and signed deals with the likes of Rome Blakely really loved talking about themselves—so all I had to do was persuade them that I hung on their every word. It was like dating, except I didn’t care about the outcome so there was no pressure.
The scuba diver, Dean Garrett, was about a decade older than me, in his mid-forties, but he looked fit and healthy. A strong hairline framed his handsome face, and he smiled at me with straight, white teeth. He looked like a man who threw his money around and was used to getting what he wanted.
I’d gotten the impression Dean liked feeling like a big, important man, so I was really hamming it up. “I don’t think I could ever do a night dive,” I told him, shivering dramatically. “So scary!”
“I could take you,” he told me, grinning. “Keep you safe from all the things that bite down there.”
And there it was—the fine line between being an entertaining companion and crossing over into murky flirtation. I’d misjudged it, apparently.
Before I could come up with an appropriately soft refusal that wouldn’t offend the other man and ruin my boss’s business chances, Rome’s hand slid across the back of my chair. “She’s not going diving with you, Dean.”
The heat of his arm seared across the top of my shoulders. I felt every inch of his nearness: the arm across my back, the hand he curled around my shoulder, the press of his knee against my thigh as he leaned closer. He smelled divine, and he was too close. I leaned forward and grabbed my glass of water to take a sip in the hopes of cooling myself down.
Dean grinned. “I think the lady should speak for herself.”
I painted a grin on my lips and said, “The boss has spoken.”
“Is he always this possessive of you?”
“Only when deep-sea creatures are involved,” I said, laughing as I gave Blakely a side-eye. He met my gaze steadily and said nothing. Heat curled low in my stomach, and my thighs clenched. There was something about this man’s attention that made me want to melt. When he focused on me, it made me feel almost giddy and breathless. Special.
And wasn’t that just the silliest thing in the world?
He shifted his gaze to his potential client, and I let out a breath. The moment passed, but Rome’s arm stayed on the back of my chair for a while longer. By the end of the meal, it sounded like a deal had been struck.
But Rome didn’t seem happy about it.
As we exited the swanky restaurant, I nudged him with my elbow. “You okay?”
He arched a brow at me. “Yes. Why?”
“You’re doing that scowl-till-I-scare-small-children-away thing again.”
“I do not scare small children.”
“What about that little girl just outside the restaurant before we walked in? When you got out of the car, she stumbled back and clawed at her mother.”
“That was the pigeon’s fault.”
I laughed. “Seriously, Blakely. Why the face?”
He faced me fully, standing in front of his waiting car. “Did you want to go scuba diving with Dean?”
Startled by the question, all I could do was blink. “What?”
“Did you,” he asked slowly, “want to go scuba diving with Dean?”
“No,” I answered.
“It sounded like you did. You talked to him for the better part of an hour.”
“Yes, because that’s my job.”
“You were batting your eyelashes and giggling, Jordan.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said,” he gritted out.
Okay, that pissed me off. I planted my hands on my hips and glared. “Have you forgotten that you hired me to sit beside you and make pleasant conversation?”
“That’s right. I didn’t hire you to flirt with other men right in front of me. You’re there to be with me.”
“I was not flirting. I was showing interest in his hobbies. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Talk about—I don’t know—the weather.”
“The weather.”
“Men look at you laughing at their jokes and they think they’ve got a chance.”
I let out a snort. “Right. Isn’t that the point of having me at your side?”
His jaw clenched. “I didn’t like it, Jordan. Don’t do it again.”
“You got the contract, didn’t you? Would you rather I sit there like a wet sock and drag the mood down?”
Eyes flashing, he stared me down.
But I wasn’t intimidated. I took a step closer, so we were nearly nose to nose. “I made him laugh and stroked his ego so you could come in and close the deal. That’s the whole reason I’m here. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m really, really good at it.”
I poked him in the chest for emphasis with every word until he snatched it before I could finish the last poke. His fingers dwarfed mine as he clasped my hand, clutching it between us. I could feel the calluses on his palm, the heat of his skin against mine. My breath caught.
He stared into my eyes, then dropped his gaze to my lips. I felt like a doe who’d just realized she was in the hunter’s crosshairs, trembling and ready to bolt.
Rome clearly wasn’t as affected as I was. He dropped my hand and took a step back as he straightened his tie. “Let’s debrief on our way back to the office.”
On trembling legs, I followed him into the car. He didn’t look at me as we went over the lunch, then talked about what would be required for the rest of the week. There was only one more event for me to attend, and I’d have Sunday off.
I barely heard him. The more I sat there in his car, listening to him order me around, the angrier I got. By the time we got to the office building, my jaw was clenched and my fists balled. I stomped after him to the elevator, resenting the fact that I had to trot after him like a little lapdog and that I was the one who’d signed up for this in the first place.
The elevator doors closed, and we leaned against opposite walls, glaring at each other.
He arched a brow. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
His lips twitched at my barked response. “Like you want to bite my head off.”
“I just think you’re taking a lot of liberties with my job description,” I said. “You want me to parade everywhere on your arm and make pleasant conversation, and then you get mad when I do. You think you have a right to tell me whether or not I can date just because I signed a contract with your company.”
He pushed off the wall and prowled closer. We traveled up toward the top floor, and I suddenly realized I was trapped here with him. It only took him two large steps to stand toe-to-toe with me, his broad chest pressing against mine. Both of his hands came to rest on the wall on either side of my head.
“You seem to have forgotten one thing, Ms. Jordan,” he enunciated, eyes flashing. His head dipped slightly so I could feel his breath against my cheek.
“What’s that?” I asked, trying to sound tough. My fingers curled into the handrail behind me, and my breath stuttered. He was so close. So overwhelmingly male. So…angry.
“While you work for this company,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, “you belong to me.”
His face dipped, but his lips remained just out of reach. His eyes bored into mine, pinning me in place. I could feel the warmth of his body all down my front, feel his breath against my lips. My world narrowed to the spaces between us. The fraction of an inch between my mouth and his. The brush of his suit jacket against my breasts. The touch of his knee between mine.
The elevator came to a stop, and Rome pushed off the wall, straightened his tie, and faced the doors a moment before they opened. He stepped out like he didn’t have a care in the world while I tried to catch my breath, clinging to the handrail, watching his retreating back.
He paused just on the other side of the elevator doors to glance back at me. “From now on, your presence is required for daily dinner briefings with me. My office. Five o’clock. Until then, talk to Clara about the next few events you’ll need to attend.”
Without waiting for a response, he disappeared around the corner and left me panting in the elevator. The door began to close before I shot my arm out to stop it. Wobbling, I clutched my purse to my stomach and made my way to Clara’s office, eyes darting to the frosted glass door across from hers. The one that belonged to Rome.
I gritted my teeth.
He’d done that on purpose just to knock me off-balance. The jerk. Straightening my shoulders, I strode to Clara’s door and knocked on the jamb. She looked up and waved me in.
I gave her my best smile. If Rome thought that little stunt was all it took to get me to take off running, he was dead wrong. I was here to stay, and I wasn’t going to be stupid enough to fall for an arrogant billionaire who thought he could boss me around.