Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Damien
“How did you end up in New York?” I asked her.
“I attended NYU with Matt.”
“For a legal secretary?” My brows furrowed.
“No.” She laughed. “I was a marketing major. Then I got distracted by this lawyer I met, and the law seemed fun. I needed a part-time job while I was in school, so he got me a job as a secretary at the law firm where he worked. Then, we stopped seeing each other after six months, and I was forced to quit. However, since I had some secretarial experience, another firm hired me only if I agreed to get certified as a legal secretary. So, I put NYU on hold, got certified, and never returned for my marketing degree. Stupid on my part. I wouldn’t be in this situation had I just finished school. I would probably be at the top of the marketing chain by now.” A smirk crossed her lips.
“Then maybe that lawyer shouldn’t have distracted you.” I smiled.
“You’re right.” She pointed her fork at me. “He shouldn’t have. He was hot but a total asshole. How about you? Where did you get your fancy degree from?”
“Columbia. My father’s alma mater.”
“You really miss him, don’t you?” She reached over and placed her hand on mine.
“I do. He was my best friend.”
“What about your mom? You haven’t mentioned her.”
“My mother died when I was three years old from pancreatic cancer.”
“Oh no. You poor thing.” She pouted. “I’m sorry.”
“So, it’s always just been my dad and me.”
“He’s watching over you.” She smiled. “Just because they’re not here physically, they’re here spiritually—watching over and guiding you.”
“I don’t believe in that stuff.” I tipped the coffee mug to my lips.
“I went to a psychic after my father died. I was lost, just like you are.”
“I’m not lost, Willa.”
“Yes, you are. Anyway, the psychic told me that my dad was there with me, and he watches over me. You know how I know she was telling the truth?”
“How?”
“She told me he was wearing his favorite pants and shirt. Then she described them down to the black stitching on his shirt sleeve. When I left her shop, I was no longer sad. So, just remember your dad is always here with you.” She smiled.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at her, admiring how disheveled her hair was from last night’s sex and sleep.
“Spend the day with me,” I said.
“Really?” She smiled. “What do you want to do?”
“We’ll go out. Maybe hit up a couple of museums and Central Park for a hot dog.” I smirked.
“A hot dog? Are you sure you can afford it?” A smirk crossed her lips.
“I might have to scrape some change together, but I don’t want you worrying about that.” I winked.
“That sounds fun. I have to go home first.”
“I’ll go shower and get dressed, and we can head to your place.” I stood from my chair, smiling.
As the hot water streamed down my body, I thought about Willa—my wife—a woman I barely knew. I couldn’t get last night out of my head. The way our bodies moved in sync while I was buried deep inside her. The way she moaned my name and the way her fingers dug into my back while her legs were wrapped around my waist. It was all too real for something that wasn’t supposed to mean anything.
My cock started to rise. Gripping it, I closed my eyes and gave a few tugs until I heard the shower door open. Willa stood, staring at me with a smile.
“Thinking about last night?”
“Maybe.” I wiped the water from my eyes.
She gripped the bottom of the T-shirt she wore and lifted it over her head, revealing the perfect body I devoured last night. She stepped into the shower and wrapped her hand around my stiff cock.
“Let me.” She smiled, and I was done for.
After we showered, we climbed into the back of the sedan and headed to Willa’s apartment.
“I wonder where Matt and James are,” she said as we stepped inside.
“Probably enjoying the nice day.” I walked over to the table and noticed boxes and a bunch of random things lying on it. “What’s all this?”
“My breakup boxes.”
“Your what?” My brow raised.
“I told you about them,” she said.
I picked up a candle labeled Burn it all down, safely . Then I picked up a small wire-bound journal titled Get over it, beautifully .
I recalled hearing the words ‘breakup box,’ but I never asked her to elaborate. I actually found it ridiculous and absurd. Was this what she was doing with the money I gave her?
“Don’t you think this is a waste of money?” I asked when she stepped back into the living room.
“No.” She cocked her head. “It’s my business. Well, my almost business. I’m still getting it up and running.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Uh, yeah. I’ve already fulfilled twenty orders and have another twenty to do.”
“Do you know what you’re doing? Are you even making a profit off these boxes? Did you write out a business plan? Or are you just winging it?”
“Yes, I wrote out a business plan. Yes, I’m making a small profit. No, I’m not just winging it. I’ve researched and found different vendors to keep costs down. I’ve designed my own labels and self-love prompts, and I have custom-designed boxes ordered with my brand name.”
“What is your brand name?” I asked.
“Curated Chaos.” She grinned.
“How did you even come up with this idea?”
“I bought some things for myself that really helped me after my ex broke it off. Then, my friend was going through a breakup, and I put a cute box together for her. She posted it on Instagram, and it went viral. People messaged me asking how they could purchase one. And just like that, Curated Chaos was born.” She began setting things in a box.
“What are you doing?” I asked, glancing at my watch.
“Putting a breakup box together for the Vale’s daughter. Remember last night I told Mrs. Vale that I’d send her something for her daughter?”
“Willa, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I placed my hand on her arm to stop her from filling the box further.
“Why?” Her brows furrowed.
“Because I’m trying to get this merger finalized, and I don’t want anything jeopardizing it.”
“And how would my sending a breakup box jeopardize your merger?”
“I don’t know.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
“Exactly!” she pointed at me. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Step aside, Mr. Blackwood.” She raised her arm and pushed me out of the way. “I’ll only be a few minutes, and then we can go.”
She finished packing and labeling the box, and we took it with us in the sedan.
“Louis, can you stop at the post office first? I have to drop this box off.”
“Of course.” He smiled.