Her Possessive Valentine (PROJECT VALENTINE)

Chapter 7

7

VANCE

“ A re you sure you need to go in today?” I ask, knowing it’s already far too late to protest. We’re outside the Hanging Gardens, and Hana’s halfway out of my car, but I’d give anything for a few more minutes of her company.

If anything, this should have come while we were still sprawled in my bed, naked. Some light teasing and touching would’ve been a surefire way to convince her to stay with me instead of heading to work. But I was thinking with my logical brain then. I can’t miss a day; there’s too much hanging over my head. But with our wonderful night together actually coming to an end, I’d throw it all away.

Hana’s company is better than anything I feel at the office. She trumps any sense of accomplishment those four walls can bring me. We’ve known each other for less than twenty-four hours, and she’s given me something that place never could.

She makes me feel special, warm, and whole. Hana made me realize how lonely I’ve been for God knows how long, and the worst part is I didn’t even realize it. A hollow, empty suit droning on like a good worker bee because I didn’t know this spark existed.

Things are different now. She’s the one, I just know it, to give me everything I’ve missed on a silver platter. A life of perfect harmony. And I’d be a fucking idiot if I didn’t try and hold onto it for as long as I can.

“We’re already here,” Hana says, but the pain in her rejection betrays the soft smile she forces to her lips. “How about I come over tonight instead? And we can talk about taking tomorrow off instead?”

Smart, sensible Hana. Two traits I’ve lost since meeting her.

“But we could also leave,” I say, snaking my arm over her shoulder and pulling her back into the car. She giggles as she falls back to her seat, and I start pecking the side of her head. “No one has to know we left my place.”

She turns her head, allowing me to peck my way up to her lips, and we kiss with the same feverish intensity as we had for the first time last night.

“Sounds lovely, but I can’t. You can’t. We can’t.” She starts moving out of the door again, and this time I let her go, as much as it sucks to do. “But keep your chin up. In eight hours, we can do this again.”

“Eight hours?” I put on the best whiny voice I can muster. “But that’s like forever.”

“Will it make it worse if I tell you what I’ll wear tonight if you’re a good boy?”

Woah. Why the hell did that make my cock twitch?

“It might,” I grumble.

“Nothing but a smile,” she says, slipping out of the car before I have a chance to react.

How does she expect me to drive my car after she drives me crazy? I hoot my horn twice as I pull out of the parking spot and onto the road. If I didn’t know it already, I sure do now.

She’s.

Fucking.

Perfect.

A Few Days Later

“Your eleven o’clock with Pete Jackson from the Furniture Warehouse is still on, and don’t forget about your meeting with Victor at twelve.” Jane is in a hurry this morning, regurgitating my activities while stampeding through my office to deliver another thick stack of paperwork. “After Victor, you’re expected to join?—”

“Jane, I know what I have to do.” It’s her job. I shouldn’t be too hard on her, and I’m trying not to be. But ever since Hana walked into my life, this constant hustle and bustle of normal day-to-day bullshit seems pointless. Sure, I like the fancy suit and my nice car, but one man can only be buried under so many mountains of paperwork before he reaches his limit.

And Hana has helped me find mine.

“Meetings at eleven, twelve, and three. Catch up with marketing, the speechwriter, and finance between them.” I simplify what she’s going to say in a short, succinct sentence. “I have it under control.”

“Oh, Tony said he won’t be able to make it today. Your speech notes are on top of the pile.” She sets the stack down in front of me and taps Tony’s file.

“He’s not coming?” My blood pressure spikes, and so does the white-hot fury of hearing that the man meant to guide me through his speech notes for tomorrow’s very important meeting with La Superiorite isn’t going to be here.

“No. His daughter’s ill, and they had to rush her off to a hospital.” Jane takes a few steps back, looking at me with cautious intensity.

“Hard to be angry at a man when it comes to his family.” Doesn’t mean it’s easy to let it go, either. “Top of the pile, you said?”

I’m seething, and it’s evident in my tone. I’m not speaking my words; I’m hissing them.

Get a grip on it. It’s the guy’s daughter. You’d do the same if you had one.

And maybe that’s why I can’t fully put myself in his shoes. I don’t have a family outside these walls. My brothers and my mother are all I’ve got, so how can I pretend to understand the heartache of a father?

“Yes. Everything you need is right there.” She gestures with her head toward the stack, but her eyes never leave my face.

“Thank you, Jane. That will be all.” I sink low into my leather office chair and grab the document.

Scanning the first few pages, I see it’s the same mindless drivel as every speech I give. Talking about how we’re going to make a great partnership, how their company is going to fit right in with ours, how we’re honored to have them. The biggest difference from the last one I gave is the name of the business and a few numbers to secure their trust.

Is this really what life is about? Rehearsing and rereading someone else’s thoughts instead of speaking from the heart? Using persuasive language to sway my audience instead of telling them what I think?

I get paid a fortune to be a glorified teleprompter, forcing a happy smile on my face and regurgitating the same thing everyone else has already greased La Superiorite’s poles with.

Well, fuck. Enough is enough. If I can’t speak honestly to them, so be it. But there’s someone I don’t have to hide behind a poster boy smile for. The very same person who has shattered the thrill of sitting in this office and watching big numbers turn even bigger.

I throw the folder onto my desk and jump out of my chair, storming toward the door. Jane’s typing away on her keyboard when I exit, and her eyes raise nervously in my direction. Poor little thing’s probably worried I’m going to tear her head off.

She can rest easy. I’m not in a fighting mood.

“I’ll be back before eleven,” I say, storming past her desk.

“What?” she calls back. It’s quickly followed by the distinct sound of her high heels clacking against the tiled floor. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere I should be instead of here.”

“But you don’t have time. There’s?—”

“I don’t care.” How the hell are her tiny legs keeping up with my long strides? I’d break into a sprint to get away from her had it not been for the hundreds of staff members who’d think I’d gone crazy.

She follows me all the way to the elevator, where we come to a stop as it ascends to our floor.

“I need to take care of something personal. I’ll be back on time.” The elevator dings, and the grey doors swing open. “Oh, and tell Victor I’ll be taking two weeks off starting Monday. And I’ll need the private jet for them.”

I step inside, and to my great surprise, Jane doesn’t follow.

Now, it’s off to the promised land.