Chapter 3
Three
Marie
What is happening right now?
Like…what in the actual fuck is happening right now?
But I don’t have time to truly process that question because he’s swiping his card over the after-hours keypad—and I feel it’s important to point out that it’s not after-hours and our doorman should be here to let me into the fucking building.
So, you know, I don’t have to be standing here, having this awkward interaction.
With the man whose rideshare I stole.
With the man who’s unbelievably attractive and who I realized on the uncomfortable ride over—for I was sitting in the truth of my behavior—dropped a boatload of cash on a cake auction at the benefit I was attending for my boss this evening.
Jean-Michel can’t stand the chitchat that’s barely disguised as someone with their hand held out, ready to accept his black AmEx (with the intention to max it out), but that doesn’t mean he hoards his money like some demented Scrooge McDuck.
He donates to a lot of causes—including the one funding a new women’s health center at a local hospital that I attended tonight on his behalf and several pet charities that his daughter, Chrissy, and a woman who may as well be his daughter by now, Rory, run. He’s generous with both his time and his wallet. He just…doesn’t have patience for the glad-handing.
So, I do it.
I don’t mind.
Dressing up is fun.
Charging a gorgeous gown to the company account (and shoes and makeup and a hairstylist’s services) once or twice a quarter is a fun side perk.
Plus, it gives me a chance to scope out the competition.
Those who might try and slide in on Jean-Michel’s connections, those who might try to outcompete or sabotage him.
Or those who may be a nice compliment to his corral of businesses.
Like Jace.
Who I realized on the ride over—and thanks to the power of Google—looked familiar because he’s actually Jace Henderson, CEO of one of the fastest growing companies in the United States.
He’s in biomed with a focus on the technological side and…it goes without saying that he is one of those business people who may be a compliment to Jean-Michel.
In fact, I’m pretty sure we have a current contract at Titan Capital with his company, Genen-core.
Which is…
Well, a fucking nightmare, isn’t it?
The possibility of—after the events of this evening—having to interact with this man at my place of work.
Added on top of living in the same building as me, apparently.
Not apparently , I realize a moment later, catching the door before it latches shut, pulling it wide enough for me to step through…to step through and watch, Donnie, our evening security guard stroll back into the lobby and call out, “Hey, Jace!”
He extends his hand and Jace doesn’t hesitate to shake it.
Ugh.
It’d be easier if he was an asshole who ignored Donnie, who barely acknowledged someone lower in social standing than him—adding to the image I created of the jerk outside the venue.
Instead, he pauses, shakes hands, and asks Donnie about his family.
He’s personable, not really rubbing in the whole Lyft fiasco thing when he had every right to, and…he donates money at a charity event in an absurd auction for a cake he didn’t touch benefitting women’s health.
Ugh.
I want to hate him. I need to hate him.
“Check it out, man,” Donnie says, reaching behind the counter. He snags a picture, shows it to Jace. “She just had senior prom.” A shake of his head. “My little girl is all grown up.”
“You give that date of hers the side eye so he’d behave?”
“More like showed him the side arm so he’d behave and have her back by eleven.”
Jace chuckles, and I decide that it’s beyond time for me to slink across the lobby and do my best to allow the floor to swallow me up as I wait for an elevator to my floor.
Unfortunately, the moment I start walking forward, I curse my gorgeous, stupidly expensive heels.
Because the click-click draws the attention of both men.
Jace’s hazel eyes whip toward me, closely followed by Donnie’s brown ones.
“Hi, Ms. Austen. You look as beautiful as my baby girl last night.”
Which means that, somehow, I find myself obliged to stride forward, to lean close to the desk and take the photo he holds out.
He’s not wrong.
“She’s a beauty,” I say softly.
“Just like her mama,” he replies.
I carefully pass him back the picture. “Those college applications come back?”
He nods. “She’s heading to UCSD.”
“Wow,” I say. “Congratulations to you both.”
He grins proudly and I make my retreat, far too aware that Jace’s gaze tracks my movements. Far too aware of him asking, “Where’s Frank?”
Our surly doorman.
“He called off again.”
Tension and disapproval in the air. “That’s unacceptable.”
Considering the monthly maintenance fees we pay, I can’t disagree with him.
Still, that’s management’s issue to deal with.
I reach the elevators, jab at the button, willing it to come immediately.
Of course it doesn’t.
Of course it only pings, announcing its arrival…right as the air around me shifts and changes, gathering tightly enough to make my bare skin prickle with goose bumps.
Even before I glance up, I know that he’s there.
That Jace Henderson is coming close again.
“Gonna take that ride, cookie?”
Why do I think about climbing on top of him, both of us naked, and having the ride of my life?
Probably because I’m a glutton for punishment.
He crouches a little, those hazel eyes holding mine. “Gorgeous”—I resist melting when that warm word slides down my spine—“get on the elevator.”
It’s an order, albeit a gentle one.
But that command snaps me out of my stupor.
Christ, I’m acting like an idiot.
Lifting my chin, I step onto the car. He follows a half second later and a heartbeat after that, the doors slide closed.
Leaving me trapped with him.
Yup. This is a nightmare.
He lifts an arm, presses a button on the control panel.
“What floor?” he asks.
I blink, momentarily distracted by the way his suit caresses the ridges and valleys of his chest, his shoulders, his arms. “Wh-what?”
“I asked what floor you’re on, cookie.”
Fuck. I’m still acting like an idiot. Shoving that down, I grind my teeth together, lean forward, and jab at the button for my floor.
Or I start to, anyway.
Because I make it about halfway there before I realize…
The button for the top floor has already been pushed.
My head whips toward Jace’s. He’s got an expectant expression on his face, and confusion is creeping in.
Probably because it’s not that hard to name a number or press a button.
It’s just…my floor is pushed already.
By him.
Because he’s going to his floor.
Which, apparently, is my fucking floor.
Nightmare. Yup.
This is a total freaking nightmare.