Chapter 14
“Ahh! What the hell?” I screech.
My right hand balls up in preparation to punch my attacker in the throat as the purse on my other arm drops to the floor with a thud from the sudden movement. Instead of landing a blow, I’m thrown back against the hallway wall, and my offensive arm is pinned to my chest.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to hurt me. I’m wounded, Ms. Foster.”
His voice penetrates first, then my eyes quickly travel the long column of his neck, rising over his Adam’s apple until I reach his slightly stubbled chin that has a little indention right in the middle. My gaze lingers on his smirk because, even though I’m embarrassed as hell, I can’t help but admire how damn sexy that smirk of his is.
I finally find my voice before my eyes find his. “Will you let go of my arm?”
His grip isn’t too firm or painful. Instead, I need him to let me go because being this close to him causes all the synapses in my body to fire at once. It’s like Colin triggers my body to go haywire, firing off tingles in every one of my nerve endings.
Instead of letting me go, he leans in closer. His nose grazes the edge of my jaw with the barest touch. The heat of his breath brushes against my ear. Much to my dismay, I close my eyes and turn my head toward his neck.
The movement seems to surprise him. Without saying a word, he turns his head so he looks directly at me. The seconds tick by as my body melts into his. My eyes search his for answers but come up empty handed. The grip he has on my arm loosens before he lets go all together.
Whatever this is, whatever is happening right now, neither one of us is willing to break the spell. I know as soon as one of us speaks the bubble will burst, and I’ll lose this feeling that only he seems capable to provide.
It’s lively, intoxicating, and very, very fucking dangerous.
His hands graze my hips on their way up to my face. My heart beats wildly in my chest. It skips a beat at the thought of his lips on mine, of his body pinning me against the wall, and of his hands exploring any place they deem worthy.
A brief jolt of reality rockets through me. Is that what I really want? I’ve dreamed of Colin ravishing me, but I never thought it would come to fruition. That thought alone both scares and entices me. I’m not sure which one is winning out right now.
His hands land beside my head on the wall, his stance casual, like he doesn’t have a care in the freaking world. His eyes, however, tell a different story.
They’re intense and focused, and they’re on me.
Kiss me… No, don’t kiss me… Oh, fuck it. Do it!
The barrage of indecision stops suddenly when Colin speaks.
“When I finally kiss you, you won’t be engaged to another man. You’ll be free but not for long. Because when that finally happens, you’ll be mine.”
Thanks to the sex-fueled fog I’m currently in, it takes my mind a few seconds to catch up to what Colin just said. When it does, my hands flatten on his chest as I shove him back.
I continue to push, even when I see the look of disappointment on his face. I push until he stands on the other side of the hallway with his hands in the air. He doesn’t fight me or protest, but his wounded puppy dog eyes only make me angrier.
“Excuse me? I get to decide who I kiss, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that it would never be a man who just today sent my assistant flowers!” My voice is loud, but I don’t care.
How fucking dare he?I will never be anyone’s, let alone his.
His eyes widen with surprise before relaxing, his expression turning to one of understanding. His hands are still raised in some kind of surrender, or at least a gesture to make him seem harmless, but we both know that isn’t true.
He isn’t harmless to my heart, and he isn’t harmless to my pride. I shouldn’t care that he sent my assistant flowers, but I do. I care more than what’s reasonable. I care enough to have my heart racing while standing here in the hallway leading to my penthouse. I care enough to talk so loudly that I’ve likely drawn the attention of my neighbors, and I couldn’t care less about that part.
This tells me that I care too damn much, and I need to stop. I wanted him to kiss me, dammit! I wish I could slap myself silly right now because that’s exactly how I feel, like a silly little girl waiting for her crush to tell her that he likes her.
“There was a misunderstanding with the florist.” That’s all he says, and it only brings more questions.
“So, you didn’t mean to send her flowers?” I ask with obvious nonsensical hope in my voice and my heart.
He finally drops his hands and takes a step toward me, but I step back toward my door, not so subtly telling him to stop right where he is.
“No, I meant to send them, but it wasn’t supposed to be anything like that.”
My patience is waning. Either he sent her flowers, or he didn’t. I place my hand on my hip and tap the toe of my four-inch heel as I wait for him to continue.
He rushes to explain. “The arrangement was supposed to be small and tasteful that said, ‘sorry your boss sucks.’ Instead, they sent a giant, extravagant, and not to mention fucking expensive arrangement that said, ‘I’d like to screw you.’”
Once he finishes, his shoulders drop in relief, like that explains everything so perfectly. Like there shouldn’t be any cause for me to be upset at him now. My brain sticks on one part of his admission, and surprisingly, it pierces so deeply that I struggle to catch my breath.
Sorry your boss sucks.
I’m more than done with this conversation, with this day, and with Colin fucking Brooks. To think that moments ago I wanted this man to kiss me… that I wanted to feel his body pin mine against this wall while he ravished me right here where anyone could walk by.
Screw him and screw this.
“Yes, well, in that case… Unless you’re here because you actually did your fucking job and found something, I’m going to call it a night,” I say stiffly. The hurt and rage bubbles under my skin and threatens to spew out.
I need to get into my apartment so I can properly cuss this man to Timbuktu. I refuse to do it here, in front of him and where everyone can hear. I refuse to let him see me this upset. He doesn’t get the satisfaction of knowing how deep his words cut or how much I fear they’re true.
This man gets no part of me. Not now, and not ever.
His eyes go wide as if he’s just now realizing what he said. “Jade, I didn’t mean it like that. It was supposed to be a joke…”
“If you’ll excuse me. Don’t call me or show up at my apartment unannounced unless you have something, Mr. Brooks. That was the deal you were so adamant about, wasn’t it? Have a good evening.”
I unlock the door, walk into my foyer, and slam the door behind me before he has the chance to respond. I leave him standing there, dumbfounded and wounded just like he deserves.
“Who the hell does he think he is?” I ask again for probably the tenth time tonight, but Bridge doesn’t seem to mind.
“One stupid, stupid, boy, Jade.”
“Pfft. That doesn’t give him the right to pretend to nearly kiss me and then say that when he finally does, I’ll be his before going on to say that I’m such a terrible boss he thought it was necessary to send my assistant flowers to apologize!” My rant is going just as strong as it was when Bridge first got here thirty minutes ago.
She’s all caught up on what went down last night outside my apartment door and all about the flowers sent to Heather.
She winces for the third time. It doesn’t get any better no matter how many times I say it out loud. It hurts just as much as it did last night, maybe even worse because I’ve had all night and day to stew on it.
She chews on her bottom lip a second before she speaks. “I’m trying to figure out why he felt compelled to do something like that. I don’t know him, but it seems like more than a joke…”
She leaves her last statement hanging, waiting for me to explain why he’d think that, but I don’t know if I can in a way that will discredit him. That might be why I’m so damn angry. Because he might have a damn point. However, my pride won’t let me admit that to anyone, even Bridge.
I shrug. “I don’t know why he thinks that.” I go to pour myself another glass of white wine as I grab a spicy tuna roll from the platter in front of us.
We almost always eat in the living room instead of the dining room. It’s cozier in here and far less stuffy than the formal dining room that can seat twenty.
I roll my eyes a little at how ridiculous it seems to have a room like that when I almost never host parties, let alone anything so big that a thirty-foot table with twenty seats would be needed.
“You have no idea why the man would get the impression Heather is a little stressed and a lot over worked?” Bridge presses.
I drop my chopsticks and turn my gaze on her. “I may have high expectations a lot of people may fall short of, but that doesn’t make me a terrible boss. It’s unfair of him to make that kind of judgement when he doesn’t even know me,” I say, unable to disguise the hurt in my voice.
“Oh, honey. We both know you aren’t a terrible boss, but I think sometimes your demeanor comes off the wrong way.” She pauses, possibly collecting her thoughts, but I have to assume it’s mostly like to soften the oncoming blow.
She and I don’t sugarcoat the truth, and we don’t hide our honest thoughts from each other. She’s the only person in my life I don’t hide from. I can trust her with my deepest, darkest secrets, and she feels the same way about me.
That doesn’t mean this next part won’t stink like hell, though.
“I think you could do better at being softer and more approachable at work. I think Heather doesn’t know you and even fears you. That’s worked for you until this point, but I think you could do better at showing people you aren’t a workaholic machine that doesn’t have compassion.”
Damn. How is it fair that Colin fucking Brooks was the asshole in this scenario, but I’m the one taking the lashing?
“I’m saying this because I love you. Not because I’m trying to hurt you. Colin was a dick to do what he did, and I’m not arguing against that. However, maybe there’s a grain of truth to it?”
I say nothing for several moments as I swirl her words around in my mind only to find I don’t disagree with what she said. Hell, I’ve even had those thoughts myself just yesterday before the whole flower drama.
The problem is, I don’t know how to fix it. This is who I am, at least in part. It’s the persona I created over the years while having to crawl my way up the corporate ladder and earn the respect of my peers, most of which who are male.
What really bothers me is that if I were a man, this wouldn’t even be a conversation. It’s expected that men in my position are hard-asses and, for a lack of a better word, rude. They don’t get to where they are because they were compassionate.
No, they fucking got there because they turned that part of themselves off and did what needed to be done. While I don’t think it’s right, I know that’s the world we live in, and I did what I needed to do to survive it.
And it seems I lost a piece of myself along the way.
“Have I really been that bad?” I ask out of legitimate fear that I’m beyond redemption. I may be able to explain why I’m the way I am, but that doesn’t make it right and doesn’t mean people like Heather will forgive me.
Bridge shifts to fully face me. “Absolutely not! You may be hard and demanding, but you’re also fair. You pay very well, your vacation time is to die for, and the benefits far exceed what’s the norm. I would kill to have those perks.” She smiles, before continuing. “It also makes dealing with you much more bearable.”
She winks as I chuckle. Those things are true, but I’m also tired of people tiptoeing around me. What Colin said was a slap in the face and a big dose of reality. I don’t excuse what he did because it was a major dick move, but now that I’ve calmed down, I can see why he did it.
He felt sorry for Heather and wanted to make a jab at me. Making a jab at me is one thing, but I don’t ever want someone to walk into my office again and get the impression that my employees are miserable because of me.
“How do I fix it?” I ask before taking another gulp of wine.
I see there’s a problem, but I have no freaking clue how to fix it. Bridge is the bubbly, kind, and funny one out of the two of us. If anyone can help me it’s her. She’s never steered me wrong before.
She takes a deep breath, understanding as usual of how big of a deal this is for me. She knows how much I hate to let people in. Losing your mother young and watching your father lose himself to grief will do that to a person. I’ve been closed off to protect myself, but I’m finally realizing that I can’t do it anymore.
Well, at least, to the extent that I do.
“Start small. Ask her how her day has been. Maybe ask about her life. Does she have pets? Or kids? What are her hobbies? Slowly build that trust. I guarantee that if she gets to know the real you, she’ll always be in your corner.”
I huff. Nothing is ever that simple. She makes it sound like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I’m not that likable, you know. I think you’re pretty biased because I’m your best friend and all.”
Her smile is soft. “I might be, but what’s the harm in letting a few more people see just how awesome you really are?”
I worry I won’t know how. Bridgette is my best friend, but she’s also family. There’s a built-in relationship, one I haven’t had to work at since we’ve known each other our entire lives.
She reaches over to take my hand, squeezing it tight. “Trust me, girl, you can do this.”
I squeeze hers in return. I’m worried I can’t, and the realization hurts more than the fact that everyone hates me, but I have to try. I want to prove to myself that I can.