The Virgin Society Collection

26. It’s Not What You Think

26

IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK

Jules

A surge of panic rushes through my veins. My heart pounds so loud I’m sure everyone in the café can hear it.

Like, oh, say, Solange, who’s mere feet away. As she cocks her head and says, “Good morning, Jules,” my skin goes hot with a blush of discomfort. Where’s my poker face when I need it?

“Hi,” I say, but that little word is stuck in my throat. Do I still know how to speak?

Finn rises, sticks out a hand. “Good to see you, Solange. Have you tried this café? I can’t recommend the coffee in good conscience.”

He offers her a smile, but it’s one that says to me he’s going to handle this situation. Good, because I can’t.

“I don’t care for coffee,” she says as they shake.

“Join us for breakfast then. Jules and I were catching up on the plans for the show in New York next week,” he says as he sits back down, so easily, so seamlessly that even I believe him.

“It’ll be busy then too,” she says, but she’s assessing us, like she’s not sure she’s buying his cover-up. Embarrassment washes over me. Even if Finn’s not my direct boss, she must think less of me for this. She must think I’d sleep my way through the business. Everything I’ve worked hard for is spiraling because of my dumb heart.

“It will. Our American brand partners are all set though. Like we talked about the other day,” he adds.

That must have been when he came to the set, the evening he grabbed her eyeglasses.

“Yes, and I think I know how to integrate the watchmaker,” she says.

“Fantastic. Did you want to chat about it now?” he asks. I have no idea how he can be so normal, but I’m glad he is because I’m not.

She looks at her own watch, a functional, waterproof-looking one that is pure Solange. “I can’t now,” she says crisply, then glances at our empty cups on the table.

It’s just coffee. Please let that be all she thinks this is.

“But later is fine,” she says, then turns to me. “When you come in, let’s have a chat about the New York scenes coming up next week. Is the fountain at Lincoln Center really the best location for the breakup shot? Or should we do it on set instead?”

Changing a location from the streets of New York to the studio is easy enough. “I’m partial to Lincoln Center, but if you think something like the office set is better, then I’ll make it happen.”

With a sigh, she taps her chin, clearly weighing the options. “I’ll think on it.”

Her words are polite, but there is a cutting edge to them.

Could I lose my job? Will she say something to Bridger? Will he say something to my dad? Finn didn’t even touch me in public.

Still, I must be wearing all my thoughts on my face. I’m falling in love with this man .

My gaze drops to the ground as heat spreads across my cheeks.

She’s a woman I respect: a sharp, no-nonsense producer. How could I have let myself get so close to Finn? What was I thinking?

But for once, I wasn’t thinking. I was only feeling.

“You must be staying nearby,” Finn says to her when she shows no signs of leaving.

“Yes. My hotel, too, is around the corner,” she says, and that too makes me think she’s been aware of us for longer than I’ve realized.

My stomach twists with guilt and shame. “It’s a nice hotel,” I say, and I sound like a chastened child. I feel like one.

“It’s terrific,” she says. “Well, I better go. I’ll see you shortly, I trust?” The question is directed at me in a concerned tone.

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” she says, then spins on her heel and heads into the crowd.

She’s gone, and I should feel relieved. But my throat constricts and my lungs struggle to fill with air.

“Jules,” Finn says with some concern. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You can’t know that,” I say, my voice wobbly.

I’ve got to do something. To go. To explain. I could chase after her. Say it’s not what you think .

But it is what she thinks. She’s not stupid, and I have to fix this.

That’s what I do at work—fix problems. I need to fix my own problem, right now, right here, before it gets worse.

I jump up as Finn tosses a few bills on the table. Grabbing my purse and phone, I walk, then I jog, pushing past tourists and locals.

I’m barely thinking as I rush through the streams of people till I reach the corner. I’m about to call out the producer’s name when a hand wraps around my wrist.

“Jules,” Finn says, firm and sharp. “Talk to me.”

“I have to explain to her,” I say, rushing urgently down the sidewalk.

“No. You don’t.” He tugs me down a quiet side street. “Breathe,” he says once we stop in an alcove next to a clothing boutique. “She has no way of knowing anything.”

I shake my head. He’s wrong. “She’s smart. How could she not suspect something was going on between us?”

“First, it’s none of her damn business. Second, she didn’t see anything.” He tries to reassure me, trying clearly to take control of the situation. “And you’re not my employee. You don’t work for me. This is not an office romance.”

“I know that,” I bite out. “I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say that. I’d never say that. I know you aren’t,” he says. “I’m trying to help.”

“It’s too late,” I say as guilt wells up inside me. “It’s just too late.”

“Jules, it’s not,” he says, emphatic.

But I’m hellbent on going. “I have to tell her it was nothing. I have to make sure she knows.”

His grip tightens, and he jerks me closer. “If you need to tell her it’s nothing, I won’t stop you. If you need to tell her the truth, I won’t hold you back either. You have to do what feels right to you,” he says, staring hard at me, but his eyes are full of emotions and concern too. “Whatever you decide, I will understand. All I want right now is to be here for you. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”

My pulse starts to settle a little. This man isn’t trying to save himself. He’s trying to be here for me.

“I feel so stupid,” I say weakly as I slump against the stone wall.

“You’re not stupid. Or if you are, I’m stupid too.” He shrugs helplessly. “Whatever you need, just tell me. I’ll protect you. I’ll follow up with her. Your father won’t know. Bridger won’t know.” He gulps but keeps his chin up.

I hate that he has to lie. I try desperately to swallow my tears. “I should go,” I say, frowning.

“Jules, I’m sorry you feel this way. Especially because…” He pauses to draw a breath and slides his thumb along my jawline. “I’m falling for you.”

My heart soars at his admission, but then crashes when my phone buzzes. I look at it. There’s a note from Solange.

Can you have lunch today?