Chapter 11
Eleven
Marie
I exhale and roll my shoulders, exhaustion clinging to every single cell.
I didn’t get much sleep last night.
So totally worth it to have experienced all the fucking that Jace Henderson can dish out.
But I’d meant what I said last night.
It was a moment of insanity, a blip in time, an enjoyable— very —distraction.
That was it.
And I’m fine with that.
Even though my body is humming this afternoon, wanting another interlude, wanting more time with Jace and his very delicious self, I’m deliberately focusing on work.
Because work is safe.
Because work is the best.
Because work isn’t going to turn on me the moment I fall for him…er, it.
The only problem is that my mind is drifting, not wanting to focus on the contract in front of me, nor the meeting prep for my check-in with Jean-Michel in a half hour.
Nor my inbox or my voicemails or clearing the insane amount of papers and files, sticky notes and pens off my desk.
My organization style is…
Chaos.
I know where everything is—just ask me and I can tell you exactly where I stowed the Post-It with important dates for distribution of product from Jean-Michel’s winery, Oak Ridge Vineyards, from my meeting last week. I can locate the exact pad I took notes for a business trip to Germany next month. Same as the file for one of our new collaborators and the lunch order for our on-site on Friday.
Chaos, but organized chaos all the same.
“You look like you’re a million miles away.”
My gaze jerks up from my messy desk to my boss, who’s standing, arms crossed, leaning back against the doorframe.
He’s swapped his usual suit for a tee and jeans, telling me without actually telling me that he’s spent the morning at the vineyard. I push up from my desk. “I’ll run down to your office, grab your spare suit.”
He waves me off, steps toward me, blue eyes searching.
And piercing . The man never misses a thing.
Case in point?
“You didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
Not a question.
A statement spoken confidently as he settles in the chair in front of my desk.
“Your meeting?—”
“I’ll get the suit in a minute, Marie.” It’s no-nonsense, and not exactly impatient, but also, he’s not going to give me an inch. “Why didn’t you get enough sleep last night?”
Because I fucked a man into oblivion and enjoyed every second of it.
Obviously not a fun fact I can share with my boss…who’s also become a bit of a father figure.
So, I give him the other half of the truth.
“My condo flooded.”
His chin jerks back, telling me that he’d expected the explanation to be similar to what we’ve been struggling with over the last few months—his ex-wife and her machinations against Jean-Michel’s life and businesses.
“Your condo flooded?”
I wince. “Yup, I went home last night and the carpet was soaked in the hallway outside my front door.” I explain about the several inches of water and the broken pipe beneath the sink in my bathroom, the abatement team and how I’ll be staying in a hotel for a bit.
Starting tonight, that is.
Then I spend the next five minutes reassuring him that I’ve got this and I don’t need to stay at his or Chrissy’s or Rory’s places.
“It’s fine,” I say, holding his gaze, forcing him to accept that it is fine—or at least that I’m not going to budge on this front. Jean-Michel is a formidable businessman but I began as merely his assistant and have worked my way up to someone who is integral to his company’s day-to-day operations. And along the way, I’ve gained his respect and trust (and vice versa). So I know that he’ll respect the line I’m drawing when I add, “I’ll let you know if anything changes, but right now I have it covered, okay?”
He scowls, and I know that even though he says, “Okay,” he’ll be keeping an extra close eye on me.
Great.
One billionaire living next door, making no secret of the fact that he wants an extension of our three-peat last night that left me limp and sated and aching for more. And another watching extra closely to make sure I make it back into my condo as soon as possible.
Back into temptation.
Maybe I should just move right now.
The condo is cursed.
Whose place floods within the first month of moving in?
It makes sense to pull the plug, to move on—or rather in —to a different place.
Only…it took me close to a year to find a property in my budget that had the amenities and location that I wanted. Starting over now…
God, I really can’t even begin to fathom it.
Jace travels for work as much as I do.
The chances of our paths actually crossing on the regular has to be slim to none.
An annoying little voice in my brain says that I’m trading in delusions, but I know I can’t let it win—not today, not right now, not when everything from last night is so fresh in my head, so…tempting.
I have to cling to the lies I’m telling myself.
Not lies . Truths.
Just truths that may or may not affect said delusions I’m clinging too.
Sighing, I grab my notebook I have set especially for meetings like this with Jean-Michel and snag my pen.
“All right,” I say. “Quit stalling and give me the rundown on the acquisition of Rosque Enterprises.”