14. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Jemima
“Man, he’s hot,” Molly whispers to me before taking a bite of her noodles. Not the cheap packet ones that I buy, but the yummy ones with thick, soft noodles and real pieces of meat and vegetables. I wish I could afford to buy the good stuff, but the weight of all our bills is weighing down on me.
I peer down at my basic sandwich, which has been my go-to for the last few weeks when I’ve needed to find something nutritious but also inexpensive.
His heavy footsteps come closer, I keep my eyes cast downward because I’m unable to look anywhere else but at that damn sculpted chest. As soon as he stood in the doorway, I could tell he had lost another button.
Did he do that on purpose?
I shake my head. Don’t be ridiculous.
We are opposites, and the biggest problem is, I don’t trust him.
His firm body, pine scent, and blue eyes that could lure me in, are all things that I don’t need to focus on.
“Where’s your lunch?” Molly asks.
It brings my gaze up; he’s pulling out a chair across from us.
Sitting at the basic white table, he answers, “I ordered it.”
“What’s your order,” Molly asks.
I take a big bite of my sandwich, pretending that I don’t care about his answer when, really, I want to live vicariously through him.
“It’s actually pre-made meals from my friend's company. I’ve ordered a week's worth.”
“So you can’t cook?” I ask.
“Of course I can. I can even bake,” he replies with a cocky grin.
Molly gasps, but it’s almost a moan. I hit her leg under the table.
Is she serious?
“And what do you bake?” I ask, wanting to catch him in his lie, even though I’m imagining him in an apron with nothing underneath.
He leans his elbows on the table as his gaze flicks between Molly’s and mine.
“I watch my Grams bake, and I lick the bowl.”
I snort, but I end up coughing and my food gets stuck.
“You alright?” he asks, frowning.
I nod vehemently. Trying not to look at his worry-filled eyes, I take a sip of water, washing it away.
“So you can’t bake but you can cook?” Molly asks.
“I can bake.”
“Bullshit,” I retort.
His eyebrows lift to his forehead as he clasps his hands together. My eyes follow the way the shirt gapes open and his chest contracts. He’s firm everywhere… and a flush rushes through me.
“Let’s have a baking competition,” Molly exclaims.
“I don’t have time for this,” I argue with her.
“You can’t bake.” Harvey chuckles.
His teasing makes my teeth grind as I get up to get a napkin. “I can. Fine, Molly, let’s have this dumb bake-off.”
I curse myself, unable to believe I’m agreeing to this.
“So what are we all baking? To make it fair, everyone has to do the same thing,” Molly interjects, calming the fire burning between us.
“Who’ll be the judge?” Harvey asks as I walk back to my chair. My eyes cast over his more relaxed posture. I don’t miss his forearms; the vein popping, and I tear my gaze away when I reach my seat.
Molly purses her lips. “I should and you both have to put it on the same plate, so I have no idea whose is whose.”
“Good idea,” I murmur with a smirk. She’s my friend, surely, she will know which one I baked and choose it. This will be a piece of cake!
Literally.
“Cake.”
They both look at me.
“We’re making a vanilla sponge cake, and it’s due Monday,” I announce, folding my arms across my chest.
“Easy,” Harvey says as he sits back to pull his phone out of his pocket, the light on his screen lighting up his face.
“What does the winner get?” I ask, my tone light, but with an edge of curiosity.
“I’ll choose,” Molly says with a mischievous twinkle dancing in her eyes that I don’t like.
“Bring on the baking. I can’t wait to win,” Harvey says as he winks at me, which sends a shudder of annoyance straight down my spine.
“How will we know you baked it?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as I lean forward.
“You don’t trust me?” he asks through a tight mouth and a challenging gaze.
Is he kidding?
“No. You will need to call your grams when you bring it in,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Are you serious?” His chair screeches across the floor as he shifts.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” I hold his gaze steady, daring him to argue.
He shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “Whatever. But then we will need to call Chad when you bring yours in.”
“Why are you so pissy?” I ask, my tone sharper than I intended.
“I thought you’d trust me,” he fires back.
At least he didn’t lie and say, Nothing.
But I barely know him, so I laugh. “After one hangout with my son?”
His jaw clenches, and he remains silent. The air between us thickens with unspoken words.
“Sorry, but it takes a lot more than that. I’ve been burned one too many times.” The words tumble out before I can think better of it.
Shit! Why did I have to say that? My stomach twists as I realize what I’ve just revealed. Opening myself up and being vulnerable wasn’t part of the plan. Not here with him, not now.
Silence fills the room, and I get up to throw out my dirty napkin and grab a new bottle of water.
“Food’s here,” he announces, pushing out his chair, and without waiting for a response, he strides toward the door, his hands sliding into his pockets as he goes.
Molly's eyes burn a hole in my head.
“What?” I whisper-shout.
She arches an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Don’t what me,” she keeps her voice just as low. “You know exactly what I’m thinking.”
“I don’t,” I reply, a little too quickly.
She rolls her eyes and murmurs, “You two keep eyeballing each other. You think you’re subtle, well, you’re a walking billboard. With fucking neon lights.”
I scoff. “Yes, he’s nice to look at. But he’s annoying.”
“Nice to look at? Jem, stop being scared. Have some fun.”
“I am having fun,” I scoff.
“No, have some fun with him,” she adds.
“Why don’t you go for him?” I say, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, my stomach bottoms out. I shouldn’t have said that. What if she does go for him? Unwelcome feelings of jealousy creep in and I hate it. It’s not who I am.
“He’s not looking at me. His eyes don’t…” she says, dropping her voice to a whisper when his heavy steps indicate his impending return, “leave…you.”
He enters the room with a brown paper bag, moves to the fridge, and pulls out take-out-sized boxes. His broad back and ass are hard to miss. I rub my hand through my hair as I reluctantly tear my gaze from him.
No, Jem. Not him. Hell… no.
But my mind wanders to Molly’s words.
His eyes don’t leave you.
I must zone out because I didn’t see him return to the table or hear Molly speak.
“Jem,” Molly calls in the distance. But it’s the touch on my thigh that snaps me back to reality. Gasping at the warmth of the large, firm hand gently squeezing me, I blink rapidly.
The hand on my thigh belongs to the same person I’ve been having the wickedest fantasies about.
What’s gotten into me? I need to snap out of this, and fast. But he’s making it impossible by keeping his hand on my thigh.
I realize she’s not far away; she’s sitting directly across from me. “Sorry,” I murmur. “What did you say?”
“Where did you go?” Harvey asks, a wolfish grin making me suddenly worry he can read my mind.
I straighten my back as my gaze meets Molly’s.
“We were talking about our hobbies. It’s your turn,” she says.
“Hobbies,” I repeat.
“Yeah,” Harvey says with an expectant look.
“Um, I don’t really have any because I spend all my time with Chad.”
“What do you two do?” he asks. His hand retracts, and though I want to protest, I start talking to avoid any further physical contact. I’m so deprived of touch that I’m craving it from the person I shouldn’t.
“We watch movies. Mainly Marvel or Disney ones.” Once I start, I can’t stop. “My life changed when I had Chad. There wasn’t any free time to do what I used to do.”
“And what did you used to do?” he pries.
“Dance classes, reading, travelling.” I sigh. When was the last time I did any of that?
I gave up dance classes when I fell pregnant… seven years ago.
Reading? That was mostly during holidays or long weekends, but the last time I read was last year.
Traveling? The last vacation was my honeymoon in Bali. Before that, I used to travel with friends every few years. I was so carefree back then. Now, I don’t even recognize that person. She’s so different from the stressed-out one I’ve become.
To steer the conversation away from why I don’t do those things anymore, I add, “Now I work or hang out with Chad.”
“He beat me and Hugo at Chutes and Ladders the other night,” Molly chimes in.
No surprise there. We play together often because it’s a game I played with my dad and now with Chad. “Yeah, he’s competitive,” I mutter.
“I wonder where he gets that from?” Harvey teases.
“I’m not competitive,” I argue, with a raised eyebrow.
Molly and Harvey look at me like I’m joking.
“What?” I say, feeling offended.
“You can’t be serious,” Harvey says.
“I am serious.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“It’s not a bad thing. He’ll be successful,” Harvey says.
“Just like his momma,” Molly adds, throwing me a wink.
“Not yet,” I murmur.
“We will be. I’m not wasting my time here for it not to pay off,” Harvey adds confidently.
My mouth falls open as I stare at him for a moment. Wasting his time…
Clenching my hands into fists at my sides, my nails stab into my palms, grounding me. “No one’s holding you here.”
He winces. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”
“Just a bit insensitive,” Molly adds, scrunching up her nose.
“I just meant I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t see potential. My office is running without me,” Harvey says.
“What’s your job?” Molly asks.
“I own Lincoln Acquisitions and soon to be Consultations,” he answers.
Molly whistles. “Dayum.”
“With all of us working together, we have a very good chance,” Harvey adds.
“Agree,” Molly says.
I remain quiet, returning to my sandwich. This is why I refuse to have him help me personally. I’ll accept his help here, in this office, because that makes his presence temporary.
Even though I was close to giving him the finances, I decided against it. After what my ex-husband did, I vowed to never let another man handle my finances. I’ll learn it myself. Sharing the work has been such a relief, and honestly, I wish I had thought of it so much sooner.
I finish my sandwich as Molly hands over a coffee she made me. Harvey grabs something from the fridge and brings it to the table.
He takes out a lemon meringue pie.
“Did you make this?” Molly exclaims, taking the words right out of my mouth.
“No. My grams did,” he says, looking directly at me.
“Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have her make the cake to win,” I say.
“I wouldn’t.”
My stomach grumbles at the sight. I haven’t had a homemade pie since my mom used to bake when I was little. Once my parents took over the business, it consumed them.
He cuts six pieces.
“You cut too many pieces.”
“One for Chad and one for Hugo.”
I freeze momentarily. I can’t refuse just because I don’t like handouts. Food is one area where I’m struggling, and I know he’s aware of that. Yet his gesture doesn’t seem like an afterthought or out of sympathy. It’s more caring, which sends a tremor through me.
He’s more dangerous than I thought. He’s hitting me where I’m weak.
I’ve got to be stronger.
Harvey sets the pie down, and we waste no time eating it… or should I say, inhaling it.
“This is so good,” I say between bites.
“Yeah, Grams makes the best pies,” Harvey replies, his voice sounding low and heavy.
I look up and notice his expression changes to something… darker. “Everything, okay?”
He hesitates, then sighs. “She has breast cancer.”
The words hang in the air, and I pause, the fork halfway to my mouth. “Harvey… I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, it’s been really hard to see her go through treatment.” He takes a breath. “She hates how everyone’s treating her like she’s sick or fragile. She’s stubborn. Won’t let anyone help her, insists on doing everything herself.”
We share a look before one of us smirks. “I wonder where you get that from.”
Harvey laughs, and for a moment, it feels like everything is normal.
When we finally return to work, the mood shifts. Danny has been out for most of the day, and there’s a pile of things waiting to be done. Molly comes in not too much later, saying she needs to leave early because Hugo is sick. Then Danny texts me, saying he’s heading home after distributing a few of our cards to potential clients. I text him back, telling him I’ll see him tomorrow.
Now it’s just me and Harvey.
My phone rings with an unknown number. “Recaredo Events, Jemima speaking.”
“Hi Jemima, it’s Oliver Lincoln.”
I sit up in my office chair, sifting through papers on my desk to find a pen.
“Oh, hi. How can I help you?”
“I’m wondering if you could host a gallery birthday?”
“Sure. What date?”
He chuckles, his tone a bit lighter than his brother’s.
Why am I thinking of Harvey’s laugh right now?
“Here’s the issue: before we met, I had another company running my events, but the design is off.”
“What’s not working?” I ask, scribbling down notes.
“It’s immature. Gold and black, like a 90s prom. I want something elegant—”
“Masculine?” I ask.
“Yes. Not too dark, though.”
“Got it. When’s the birthday?”
“Saturday night.”
I gasp. “This Saturday?”
My pen freezes, and I look across the room, wondering how I can manage this while restructuring.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting us to work together until my next project, but I need my events to represent me. So, I fired them.”
I can do this. This is a big opportunity.
Please tell me it’s not a big event.
“And how many guests are you expecting?”
“Only 50 to 100. It’s a small celebration for the gallery’s birthday.”
I tap my pen on my desk, trying to think quickly.
"What's your availability look like tomorrow?” I ask, knowing it might be quicker to design a brief, and run it past him. Creating a detailed document that covers the key elements of the event. Which includes the event’s objectives, target audience, budget, timeline, location, logistical details, and any other specific requirements. The brief will serve as a guide for me and my team to ensure everything runs smoothly and according to plan. It will also allow Oliver to be well prepared for the night.
I rub my forehead as I look at my calendar.
“Does ten a.m. work for you?”
“Could we make it eleven to give me enough time in the morning to draft an event brief.”
“I don’t expect you to do that.”
“I know, but it’ll make it easier for you to envision, and then tell me what you like and don’t like.”
“Makes sense. See you at eleven. I’ll text you the address, and we can meet there.” A thought rushes to me. “Do you have pictures of the gallery?”
He chuckles lightly. “Plenty.”
“Send me those when you have a second.” I share my work email with him.
“Thanks, Jemima. I’m sorry to throw this on you so suddenly.”
“No problem,” I reply, ignoring the way my heart races at how much I actually need this. “I’m happy to help.”
I don’t mention how big this opportunity is for me. After hanging up, I wander over to Harvey’s office. Ignoring the buzz in my body as I take in his focused expression, I raise my hand to knock, but he notices me before I can.
“Hey,” he says, sounding as tired as I feel.
“Hey. Have you heard from your brother Oliver today?”
His eyebrows knit together, and he grabs his phone to check. “No. Why?”
“He just called. He fired his event planner and needs help with his gallery party.”
His face softens. “That’s good. When’s the event?”
“Here’s the problem… It's Saturday.”
His eyes bulge slightly. “This Saturday?”
I nod. “I scheduled a meeting with him tomorrow to present a design.”
“Can I come?”
Do I tell him I assumed he would? But that feels like I’m letting him too deeply into my business, and I need him to understand it’s mine.
I need to seem unfazed. “Yes, if you want.” I shrug. “It’s at eleven.”
“What do you need me to do?”
I hesitate, a bit lost. I’m not used to receiving help. Molly would, but she’s got a lot of work on her plate, and I want her to focus on running the office and keeping it organized. My goal since we started this new plan with Harvey is to keep on top of paperwork, invoices, and finances.
“Could you compile a list of potential suppliers so we can start calling them in the morning?”
His lip quirks, an annoyingly sexy yet adorable grin, as if he knows delegating is hard for me, but he’s glad I did. This still doesn’t mean I trust him.
“I’m going to get started on the design concept. When I have notes typed up, I’ll email them to you.”
As I return to my office, I’m feeling a welcome sense of familiarity. With a new motivation, I leave my messy office as it is for now. I can focus on organizing the finances after this event is sorted out.
I spend the next few hours working on the concept. I haven’t heard from Harvey, so I guess he’s as busy as I am. His dedication is alluring. I try not to read too much into it. My ex-husband was never a career-driven man. He was a warehouse auditor who showed up every day, but without enthusiasm. He always had something to complain about. It was draining to be around someone so negative. Now it makes sense why he got tangled up with drugs—he wanted quick money.
Rubbing my temples, I feel fatigue setting in and decide it’s time to go home. Harvey shouldn’t be working this late. It’s my company; he doesn’t need to do more than necessary.
So why is he?
I’m so tired I’m getting delirious. As I shut down my computer, the smell of soy sauce, garlic, ginger, and spices hits me. Chinese food. Chad is having dinner with Jade and Pedro tonight, so I’ll probably end up eating toast. I’m about to clean my cups from my desk and take them to the kitchen when Harvey appears, and my breath catches.
“Hungry?” He holds up a bag filled with food.
My mouth waters and stomach rumbles. “I can’t. Chad...”
But I don’t move to turn him away, so he takes it as an invitation and sits in the chair opposite my desk. He opens the bag and pulls out containers of rice, barbecue pork, satay chicken, and a stack of skewers dripping in sauce. There are also drinks and dessert. It’s enough food to last a whole week, and I wouldn’t put it past him to over order on purpose to keep the fridge stocked all week.
“Do you have someone helping you take care of him?”
I’m too tired to redirect his question, and I guess sharing an honest conversation once in a while will make working with him easier.
“Molly, or the apartment owners, Jade and Pedro.” My voice wobbles. “I've valued their willingness to help, but I know that time is coming to an end.”
He looks at me inquisitively.
"They’ve decided to sell to developers, and I want this business to succeed so I can buy my own place."
“You don’t want to rent?” His eyes search mine, trying to read between the lines.
I glance away as heat fills my cheeks. “Not the places I can afford.”
“I could help you if you get stuck,” he offers softly.
I shake my head. “I couldn’t afford the places you’d suggest.”
His brow furrows for a second, but then he straightens, his expression firm. “We’re going to make this business successful, so you won’t have to worry about money.”
His confidence catches me off guard, and I can’t help but challenge him. “How do you know?”
“I know a lot.” He gives me a sympathetic smile.
“What’s your story, Harvey?” I sigh.
He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“You’re wealthy, yet you work a lot. No girlfriend…”
“I see you’re trying to get me to open up,” he says, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“You know so much about me…” I fold my arms across my chest.
“I don’t know everything,” he says, tilting his head sightly.
I lift an eyebrow. “What would you like to know?”
He leans in, his voice lowering a touch, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “So much.”
“Like?”
“Tell me about Chad’s father.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop. He’s asking me a personal question…
I’ll answer it, but I will ask him one too.
I shake my head. “You’ll look down on me.”
“I don’t and won’t look down on you,” he argues, his gaze intense.
His stare makes me uneasy, so I exhale and decide to be honest. He could easily find out anyway, since he has the resources. Yet he’s asking me and that feels different. He’s choosing to trust me, even when I haven’t given him much to work with. Maybe he deserves the truth.
I glance at him, then drop my eyes to the floor as I twist the hem of my sleeve as I let him into my past.
“We met at work. He was my boss. I was young and made some dumb decisions.”
“Why do you say that?”
I uncross my arms. “My parents warned me he was bad news, but I didn’t listen.”
“We all need to learn things on our own. Mistakes make you human.”
I exhale, glad he’s not pushing for more.
Leaning forward, I ask, “Tell me something about you. Something you wouldn’t normally tell anyone.”
“I want the consultation firm to prove to myself that I’m not just another young, rich member of the Lincoln family. That I’m successful on my own.”
“But you said you still need your trust fund, which is from your family,” I ask, trying to understand.
He sits back. “Ouch, no need to rub it in.”
“Sorry. I didn’t think before I said that.”
“No, I like that you don’t bend and that you challenge me,” he says in a hushed tone.
A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down and ignore it. “You are successful. And you’re not at all like I thought you’d be.”
His eyebrow lifts. “Which was?”
“Do you really want to know?” I ask.
He eats a piece of chicken and some noodles. “I told you; I appreciate your honesty.”
“Young, mean, selfish, and an asshole. Though I’m still debating the ‘asshole’ part.” I laugh, and when he joins in, mine turns into a full belly laugh. For a second, I forget everything, the tension, my worries, the walls I’ve built around myself. It feels good to let go for a minute. I haven’t laughed in a long time. I haven’t spent time with a cute guy in even longer. This feels scary and way too easy.
He’s a charming fucking trap. Too good to be true… They all are.
He swallows, as if he’s struggling with something. So when he speaks, it’s coming from a vulnerable place. “I think I come across that way because I want to be taken seriously. Being called the ‘cute, rich young, Lincoln,’ never made me feel worthy.”
“So now you work hard.”
He continues eating the noodles, which smell amazing.
“Make a name for myself that's separate from my parents.”
“Are you angry at them?”
“No, it wasn’t intentional. They always wanted to push us to reach our potential.”
A warm smile spreads across my face as I understand what he means. Before I became a mother, I had no idea what that truly meant. Now, with Chad, all I want is for him to follow his dreams. Right now, he wants to be a basketball player, and I’d love to have the money to get him into a better club where he can follow his passion. That innocent hope without fear is so special.
“I understand.”
“Meeting Chad was scarier than meeting someone’s parent.”
I laugh again, the sound coming out more freely this time. “He’s six.”
“I haven’t been around kids,” he adds, running his hand through his hair, as his eyes flick to the floor.
“So none of your brothers have kids?”
“No,” he replies, glancing up at me, his face unreadable. “I don’t have experience with them, and I wasn’t expecting him, so I freaked out.”
“I remember how you tried to shake his hand,” I say, before falling into a new fit of laughter.
He immediately shoots me a mock glare, his brow furrowing. “Hey!”
Trying to stop the giggles, I wave my hand in apology. “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn't be laughing at you.”
“No, it’s mean,” he grumbles, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. He’s not really mad.
“Oh, did I hurt your feelings?” I tease, a grin tugging on my lips.
“No,” he says quickly. “I’m actually tough. Nothing fazes me.” There’s that cocky grin.
“That’s a good thing. Life is tough, and having thick skin helps. I dread the day Chad comes home telling me something bad happened to him.”
“Chad’s incredible, and that’s a testament to you. If he has half of your resiliency, he’ll be okay,” he says, settling back into his chair, his hands relaxing on the armrests.
“Thanks.” I smile as my body temperature rises from his compliment.
“We're learning something new about each other today,” he adds.
Earlier, I only saw his body as a problem. But now, as we talk, he genuinely seems interested in getting to know Chad. For a moment, I indulge in pretending. He’s so good at making me feel seen and heard. Whether or not it’s for his own gain, tonight’s been a surprisingly pleasant experience.
“We are,” I murmur.
Tension rises in the air, and our eyes lock in a strange connection. Why did I tell him so much? I feel exposed because he knows some of my hard truths in life. He knows things that he could use against me, which has the power to break me.
I move to the kitchen sink to help clean up before heading home. As I turn to grab a towel to dry my hands, I find myself inches away from him, staring into his intense blue eyes. They pierce me, and instead of shrinking away, I feel my body giving in. His gaze drops to my lips as he leans closer, briefly licking his own. That simple move sends an ache between my legs, and I hitch a breath that nearly makes me cry. It’s been so long. Just once, I want to forget about everything and feel good.
No matter the consequences or that I once thought he was the devil for always disputing me, I want him. If he’s looking at this tired mom in her forties like he wants her, then why the fuck am I fighting it? Let him kiss me.
As he leans down, I close my eyes, but a rattling sound at the office door snaps my eyes open, and I automatically step back.
I turn toward the sound, my heart beating in my throat, and see the cleaner.
“Oh, sorry.” she says, clearly realizing she interrupted us.
But it’s enough to wake me up.
“It’s okay, we’re finished for the day,” I mumble.
The cleaner is used to seeing me here, but not him. Not a guy and girl alone, looking at each other like we were.
“Goodnight,” I say as I brush past Harvey, heading to my office to get my bag, ready to make a quick exit to the safety of my car. Just as I’m about to leave, Harvey steps into the doorway, holding a container with a knowing smirk. “Don’t forget Chad's pie.”
“Thanks.”
He leans forward and whispers in my ear, his breath warm on my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “Next time, buttercup, we won’t be interrupted.”
Freaking hell. It was a good thing she came in.
I don’t glance back at him; I just finish tidying up and go greet the cleaner, asking how her family is doing.
We often share a cup of tea while I work, chatting about her teenage kids and family. She knows about my husband’s arrest and my efforts to save this business, but she always asks about Chad.
She gives me a funny look tonight, and I brace myself. Another person looking at Harvey with a glimmer in their eyes. I shake my head at her in a silent no. But she just smiles, clearly not believing me.
“See you tomorrow, Harvey.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I walk by him, and I don’t look back until I’m outside. I welcome the cool air on my skin. He’s getting under my skin. The small pieces I’m learning about him, and the way he cares for my son, make him hard to resist. But I have to. He’s not ready for kids, and I’m not ready to trust a man again.
I can’t let him kiss me.
No matter how much I want to.