Chapter 13 – nate
NATE
The air fills with the sound of screeching brakes and pounding car horns.
Neon billboards blare all around us, and at every red light, pedestrians overflow from the crosswalks to weave between the cars.
The weather is gray and smoggy, with rain spitting down occasionally from the sky.
We’re stuck in traffic in Times Square, the closest you can get to hell on earth.
Meanwhile, Cat gazes out the car window, grinning like it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
Our journey to New York has been a revelation.
I travel so much for work that I’ve become completely desensitized to it.
Hotels, airports, and town cars have long been rote, even irritating.
Seeing it all through Cat’s eyes, I’ve been forced to see how it all could be a little exciting.
Starting the day in one country, and hours later, ending up in another.
I would put down good money that Cat never flew on a plane before.
Walking through the airport, she looked at everything, from the security screening center to the baggage carousels like she was in a whole new world.
I’d always rather take the jet than fly commercial, but James and I share it and he’s already using it to wine and dine some producer in Rome this week.
Her eyes sparkled when the flight attendant offered her champagne along with her coffee in first class and I could tell she enjoyed the luxury of it all, even if she didn’t admit it out loud.
During takeoff, she clenched her armrest so hard it turned her knuckles white. Her face was practically glued to the window as we glided up further and further away from the city until it vanished entirely when we rose above the clouds.
Our hired car jerks as the taxi in front of us serves into our lane. Cat lurches forward, her hand landing on my leg when she reaches out for balance. She shoots me an apologetic smile before releasing me.
I grit my teeth. Cat doesn’t need to touch me to have an effect on me. I’m constantly aware of her, wherever she is. Even just sitting beside me in the backseat, I can feel the heat radiating from her body. The heat that seems to form between us whenever we’re close.
Having her right outside my office is torture.
Concentrating on work has become near-impossible.
I’ve asked Cat to take notes on meetings I knew would be completely useless, just to have a chance to sit within a few yards of her.
It’s pathetic, but I can’t seem to fucking stop myself.
I’m like an addict whose dealer spends all day right outside his door.
I keep coming up with excuses to come out to her desk and ask for something.
Out there, I inevitably watch her charm every one of my employees.
Oliver, the IT guy, seems to have come up with every possible excuse to lean over her shoulder and watch her type.
I’m forced to remind myself I can’t fire him without just cause.
If I call her into my office instead, the torment is even worse. It doesn’t matter if I close the door or not. As long as I can smell her vanilla shampoo and feel the heat radiating from her body, my mind wanders to filthy fucking places.
Like how stunning Cat would look bent over my desk, her sensible work heels kicked off and her sweet ass up in the air.
Or how I’d love to have her kneel under my desk with my cock in her pretty little mouth whenever I’m stuck on a long, boring call.
If Cat had any idea how many ways I’ve fucked her all over the office in my imagination, she’d probably slap me across the face.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. I need a distraction before my fantasies take over completely.
Luckily, I’ve missed a bunch of notifications from my group chat with the guys. I scroll up quickly to catch up.
Luke
Who’s coming over Sunday for the new Gilded Age?
Beau
Nobody. You’re the only one who watches that shit.
Luke
One, it’s not shit. Railroad Daddy and Railroad Mommy are relationship goals.
Two, I know Ryan does. Chicks dig Jane Austen, and if chicks dig it, Ryan digs it.
James
They’re not the same time period.
Luke
See??? James watches it too!
Beau
No he doesn’t. How did you know that?
James
Anyone with basic knowledge of literature and history would know that.
I can practically hear James’s dry voice, which makes me chuckle. Cat looks over.
“What’s so funny?”
“Group chat with the poker guys.”
She smiles, and it lights up her face. “It’s sweet that you’re all such good friends.”
Ryan’s name flashes on my phone, and I know whatever I’m about to read definitely isn’t sweet.
Ryan
Sorry, just woke up. Maya the masseuse stayed over last night ;)
My muscles have never felt more relaxed.
And count me in for Sunday! I’m totally in Da Gild. Carrie Coon is my hall pass.
Luke
You don’t need a hall pass when you’re sleeping with all the teachers.
Ryan
Ahh, my favorite sex dream.
James
How’s the Big Apple, Nate? Bring me back black and white cookies.
Bless James. He can always be counted on to bring the conversation back somewhere semi-civilized.
Beau
I’ll take some bagels.
Luke
Pretzels for me, thanks.
Nate
I’m not an Instacart shopper. I’m here for work.
Ryan
But we’re hungry! Send hot dogs.
Nate
Only if you behave.
Ryan
Never mind, then.
Our car finally escapes the Times Square gridlock, moving slowly toward Bryant Park. Cat points at a couple in a wedding dress and tux, getting their photographs snapped.
“Aww, look at them! So cute,” she coos.
I grunt, and she rolls her eyes.
“We get it, Prince Frowning. You’re not a romantic.”
For our meeting, Cat’s wearing a blue dress with a hem that rises just above her knees when she sits. I can’t stop staring at the pale curve of her calf.
Fuck, when she took her dress off that night, I could see her perfect thighs…
With that image in my mind, I let my leg fall to the side so it presses lightly against hers.
Cat jumps instinctively at the contact, and for a second I think she’s going to pull her legs away.
Thank fuck, she doesn’t. She leans into the touch ever so slightly, letting our legs rest against each other.
Since when did just touching knees with a girl be enough to make my cock hard?
“Where are we staying tonight?” I ask. My voice comes out low and husky.
Cat reaches into her purse and pulls out her padfolio. I don’t miss the way she bites her lush lower lip as she skims over her notes.
“I got you a room at the Mandarin. The penthouse suite, just like you requested. I’ll be in the smaller bedroom, and you’ll be in the main. The driver will bring our luggage over while we’re in the meeting.”
It was probably a mistake to let her stay in my suite. I can hardly keep my hands off her sitting in a car with the driver just feet away from us. Having her in the next bedroom over will be impossible.
I should’ve told her to reserve two rooms separately. It’s what I did with all my previous assistants. I’m breaking rules I didn’t even know I had just to get closer to Cat’s warmth.
I clear my throat. “Good. If you want to go out for dinner by yourself tonight, enjoy the city, we’ll cover your expenses.”
Better to get some distance. Any distance.
“Maybe,” Cat says distractedly. She peers out the window, her eyes narrowed. “Wait a second. This doesn’t look right.”
When I look through my window, all I see is a line of regular high-rise building. Nothing looks wrong to me.
She flips rapidly through pages in her padfolio. “We shouldn’t be going above 60th,” she mutters. “Unless…did I remember that wrong?”
The nearest street sign says 72nd St. I don’t bother pointing out what she can obviously see for herself. Instinctively, I glance down at my watch to check the time.
“It’s 2:25,” she says automatically. “We have five minutes.”
“We’re still early.”
Cat doesn’t acknowledge that. I’m not even sure she heard it.
She abandons her padfolio to pull up a map on her phone instead, unconsciously tapping her foot to release nervous energy.
Her thumbs move quickly along the screen as she types something in, then scrolls through the map.
Whatever she sees makes her suck in a breath.
“Shit,” she cries. “Oh, shit, shit, shit!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh Nate, I’m so sorry, I messed it all up—” She gasps in the middle of the sentence. The color drains from her face as she tries to get in enough air to keep speaking. “I–I got the—the–”
She’s hyperventilating. Her eyes are hazy and unfocused, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes.
A panic attack.
It’s entirely unlike her. The Cat I know is cheerfully calm when faced with a problem—even finding her apartment broken into didn’t leave her this flustered. I’ll figure out why this is different later.
Now, it’s my job to get her calm again.
I put my hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently. “Listen to me, Cat. Close your eyes and take a deep breath.”
She obeys, her eyes fluttering shut. Her first attempt at a deep breath is still short and shallow, and her second is little better.
Still, I tell her, “Good. Now breathe in through your nose.”
She does.
“One, two, three,” I count as she inhales. “And out slow. That’s it.”
I count her through her next few breaths, watching as she slowly calms down. When her chest is finally rising and falling at a normal rate, I pat her leg, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“There. Good girl.”
Cat shivers at the words, then I can visibly see her relax. Her muscles stop tensing, and her shoulders lower.
She likes being praised.
Good to know.
I grin and she cocks her head at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You have a great smile.”
I snort. “They’re only for you. So don’t tell anyone, okay?”
A pink hue colors her cheeks as she drops her gaze and pushes her hair behind her ear.
God, she’s cute when she’s nervous.
“You want to tell me what set you off?” I ask.
She points toward the window. “The sign. It says Crain Hotel Group, not Crown. I got the wrong building. We’re not supposed to be here.”
Ah. “Okay.”
She opens her eyes. “Okay?”
“Yeah. It’s fine. We’ll just go to the right building.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Easy mistake, and you owned up to it. Now, we solve the problem.”
She lets out a long breath. “Right. Okay, let me just check my notes.”
Grabbing her phone, she skims through her emails with quick, deft finger strokes.
She opens the last email from the CHG team and scrolls down to the bottom, finding the address.
Then she’s in the map app, then adjusting the route and calculating the time we’re going to be late.
She’s thumbing out a quick email to the main assistant email for the CHG team to let them know we’ll be a little late as she speaks.
“Okay. They’re at 280 Park Ave.” She presses the button to intercom the driver. “New destination,” she tells him. “280 Park, and go as quick as you can, please.”
Cat sets her phone on her lap and sinks back into her seat with a relieved sigh, but there’s still that glimmer of brightness in her eyes she gets when she’s in the zone.
“I can’t wait to see you do that again.”
She socks her head at me, curious. “Do what?”
“Be brilliant for me.”
She bites her lip in a way that goes straight to my cock, drumming her fingers absentmindedly on her armrest. “Well, we’re still going to be late with the traffic.”
I rub my thumb over her knee and revel in the way she shivers at my touch.
“They can wait.”
She smiles at me and then opens her padfolio to a to-do list she’s started for when we get back to the office in Toronto, plucking out a pink pen from a slot along the spine.
Be brilliant again, she writes at the very top, smirking as she underlines it twice.