Chapter 5 – Braxton
brAXTON
The sound of my phone ringing stirs me out of a heavy sleep. No one calls me in the middle of the night except one person, and I was almost expecting this.
“It’s midnight,” I answer, my voice thick and raspy.
“I asked Waverly to be my fake girlfriend.”
I smile even as I rub my hand up my face and roll over in bed, taking my phone with me. “How’d that go?”
“Not well. She’s in some serious fucking debt from her grandmother. The kind of debt she’ll never be able to get out from under. I offered her five hundred thousand, which is more than double the debt and to cover all of her grandmother’s expenses.”
My eyes bulge. “Shit. That’s…”
“You would have done the same.”
“I would have,” I agree. “Did she say yes?”
“I gave her twenty-four hours.”
I yawn and close my eyes again. “She’ll say yes.”
“I’m almost afraid she will. Is this stupid?”
“No,” I tell him. “Not even a little. We need Waverly.”
“We?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“That you didn’t talk me into having her become my fake girlfriend so you could try to fuck her.”
I chuckle lightly. “I didn’t. But it’s more than that for me with her. I’m in love with her.”
He’s silent. “You never mentioned that.”
“What was I going to say? You’ve always made it clear she’s off-limits to us. You never mentioned it to me either.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Right. Sure. That’s why you can’t take your eyes off her, are completely insufferable when we’re at the office and she’s there, and you haven’t slept with anyone in… how long has it been now?”
He grunts. “This was a bad idea. I’ll tell her to forget it.”
“And the money?”
“I’ll give it to her anyway as a bonus,” he says, and I smile.
“She won’t accept it that way, and you know it.”
He growls. “What the fuck am I supposed to do then? Why did I let you talk me into this?”
“I talked to you about it on Monday. You asked her on Wednesday. You had time to think about it. Would it really be the worst thing in the world?”
“I can’t lose her, Brax.”
His vulnerable honesty momentarily throws me. “Why would you lose her?”
“She doesn’t like me. In fact, she said she hates me. I know you. I know how your mind works. I’ve seen the way you look at her too, though I thought it was just desire. This isn’t going to be what you think it is. Not with her. And if you try…”
“You want me to hold back?”
“No. I want you to be happy. But what if things start between the two of you and turn bad? Not to mention, you’re going to be her boss.”
I sigh. I don’t want to hold back. I really don’t.
I’ve fucked around for a long time, and none of the women I’ve met are a tenth of what Waverly is.
I want her. I want to see what can happen between us.
But I want Tristan as part of that. I may not want him physically, but it doesn’t change the dynamic of what I have in mind.
Even if he doesn’t want that and she truly doesn’t want him, I’m still in this with her.
But maybe they just need time together. Time with the three of us. Time away from the office, enjoying each other in Paris.
“I’ll hold back.” For now, I don’t add. “But for whatever it’s worth, she doesn’t hate you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I disconnect the call, toss my phone onto the other nightstand, and go back to sleep. I’m going to have my work cut out for me with those two.
The executive floor is quiet as I get off the elevator, and after I drop off my bag and coat at my desk, I head straight for the kitchen.
I don’t have to check Tristan’s office to know he’s already in there.
I know Tristan Ouest better than he does.
He’s always the first to arrive and the last to leave, setting a tone and work ethic few can match.
He wakes up at four a.m. every day and works out for an hour, showers, and does whatever else it is he does before he’s in the office by six.
I typically arrive by seven so I can ensure everything is in order for the day.
While Tris does the business, I typically go over to the lab and meet with the team there.
We’ve been working on a new product, which is where the Paris company comes in.
I want what they have because I know I can make it not only better but also medically viable and successful.
It’s what I do. It’s what I’m a fucking genius at.
Then there’s Waverly. The woman who keeps this company on its feet, smiling, and productive.
The one day she came in at nine—standard time—the place was falling apart around us because Tristan had made two assistants cry.
Now she gets here around the same time I do.
I get to the edge of the kitchen and watch her as she moves around with familiarity and ease.
She’s humming to herself. A holiday song, I think, and she’s wearing a red skirt, the new shoes Jasmine picked out for her on Monday, and a green blouse.
The outfit would look ridiculous on anyone, but on her it’s adorable and sweet, especially with her long hair in bouncy waves.
She starts Tristan’s coffee and the electric kettle for her tea.
The kitchen here is always stocked with coffee, tea, soda, water—both sparkling and still—and snacks.
Everything from trail mix to pretzels to chips to granola bars to yogurt and meat and cheese things.
On Mondays there are pastries. On Wednesdays, I have bagels and cream cheese brought in. On Fridays, it’s sandwiches or pizza.
“I always wondered why you never brought in your own tea or coffee or went out to lunch with any of the employees around the office.”
She starts at the sound of my voice, nearly dropping the container of half-and-half on the ground. She throws me a glare over her shoulder, and I let out a low chuckle.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Something happened last night between her and Tristan.
Something I don’t quite understand but want to be part of.
I heard it in his voice. It was a desperation he hadn’t allowed out before.
He’s scared. And if I know Waverly, she’s feeling the same thing.
They’re so similar in so many ways and yet opposite in others.
“Nice suit,” she comments, taking me in. “You look very formal today.”
I glance down at my sharp gray suit with a white shirt and a green tie—again, trying to be seasonable. “Too much?”
“I like it,” she says softly. “You don’t always do the whole suit thing.”
“I have a stupid lunch meeting.”
She smirks. “Business is business.”
“Doesn’t always have to be.”
She shrugs and returns to the kettle once it starts boiling.
“I noticed on one particular Friday that everyone was going out for lunch, and you stayed back,” I continue, since she dodged my first attempt. “I watched you come into the kitchen in search of snacks.”
Her face heats, and she turns away from me to finish making Tristan’s coffee and her tea.
“Do you have a point?” she finally asks now that she’s done with both tasks and has no choice but to engage with me.
“That was the day I started having Claudia bring in food three times a week and making sure that drinks and snacks were always on hand. I thought you were staying behind to impress Tristan or keep up on your work since you’re his only assistant. But now I know better.”
She lowers her head. “I wish he hadn’t told you.”
“I wish you had told me. I would have helped.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell anyone. It’s no one’s problem but my own.”
I step into the kitchen and cross the room until I’m in front of her. With my hand on her chin, I lift it until her eyes meet mine. I should let go. I really need to let go. I told Tristan I’d hold back, but with her, it’s always so fucking hard to do that.
“That doesn’t mean you have to bear it alone.”
She swallows hard and blinks at me.
“Did you come in here to tell me you thought I was a better employee than I am and that you didn’t realize the actual reason I never brought in tea or went out to lunch with the other employees?
Are you looking for a thank you? Because I believe I thanked you when you started doing it, but if you need more ego-assuaging, I’m happy to oblige.
Thank you. The food makes everyone’s day a little better, especially mine, and goes a long way to improve overall team morale. ”
“I didn’t do it for them, and I don’t care about their opinion of me. I’m not Tristan, Waverly. You don’t have to spar with me.”
She nods slowly, and my hand shifts to cup her jaw. “I know. I’m sorry. I get defensive about it.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. I want you to know that I’m here for you and that I care about you. Probably more than I should, given our future working roles. But if you ever need someone, for anything, I’m here.”
She softens against me, her eyes growing liquid. “Thank you.”
“It’s the same with him too, you know. He just sucks at mature adulting.”
She smiles, then laughs, but it’s nervous and shaky. Probably because my thumb is now dragging along her silky skin.
“You’re coming to Paris with us.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
I smirk and step into her, our bodies touching ever so subtly. She smells amazing and feels even better. I want to drag my hands up into her hair, cup the back of her head, and kiss her crazy. So she never has another worry in her pretty head. So all she can think about and feel is me.
“I think we both know you are, though. I’m glad. But I’m going to have to try like hell not to be jealous when you’re his and not mine or ours.”
Before she can respond, I pull away and leave her here in the kitchen. Paris can’t come soon enough. And when it does, I have no idea how I’ll be able to stop myself.