Chapter 31 – nate
NATE
Ryan
How’s my favorite cold, controlling, grumpy little prince?
Iroll my eyes. Of course, Ryan thinks the Toronto Tea post was hilarious. He texted all our friends immediately with highlights of his favorite sections. I would probably be furious at him if I didn’t currently have everything I want.
Namely, an espresso in my hand, Cat seated next to me, and clouds rolling by the window of my private jet. We’ll land in Paris soon. I’m used to late nights, so I worked for most of the trip, getting ahead of everything I plan to neglect the second we land.
Cat, on the other hand, spent a few hours napping in the jet’s small private bedroom.
Now, she’s sipping her own coffee while she flips through a guidebook, putting a Post-It on every page she wants to go back to.
I don’t have the heart to point out that she’s flagged almost every page.
There’s no way we’ll see even a fraction of her list in the three days we’re there.
I like seeing her like this, her legs curled up underneath her, one hand idly twirling a strand of hair while she reads. It’s too easy to imagine a world where she travels with me wherever I go, not as my assistant, but as my girlfriend.
No, that word isn’t even close to describing what I want her to be to me. It feels tawdry. Insignificant. But even thinking of the word I’d prefer to use makes my stomach churn.
I have no idea if I’ll ever get to call her mine, but the idea of her ever becoming anything other than Mrs. Nathaniel Walsh makes me want to ask her the question right this second just to stop anyone else ever doing it.
Granted, she thinks she’s on this trip as my assistant. I plan on surprising her tonight when we have dinner at my favorite restaurant. Fuck, I hope it’s a good surprise.
She needs to know how I feel about her. That I’m willing to do whatever I need to make this work.
Yesterday, my PI delivered the results from the project I asked him about a few weeks ago—the one I started to try to help her with the guilt she feels around her father’s disappearance.
What I learned is…painful. I was hoping to surprise her with good news, but now I’m not even sure if it’s a good idea to tell her anything at all.
She didn’t seek this out on her own, so it feels wrong to share it with her before she might be ready to hear it. On the other hand, it doesn’t feel right to know the truth when she doesn’t.
Cat clears her throat, and I push my thoughts to the back of my mind. Whatever I decide, I want to give her the Paris trip she’s always dreamed of first.
“When is our first meeting?” she asks. “I want to make sure everything’s ready for it.”
“Not today,” I hedge. “I’ll give you the details later. Don’t worry about it.”
“But I haven’t gotten any email invites yet. I don’t even have the itinerary.”
“Everything’s booked already. I told you, I took care of it.” Truthfully, I did ask Susie to help plan parts of the trip. She was thrilled—she seems to have a soft spot for Cat, and she’s always had a serious romantic side.
Cat’s lips purse. “If everything’s worked out, then why am I here? You don’t really need me.”
“You’re here in case of any unforeseen circumstances. I’d rather have my assistant and not need her than have you stuck in Toronto.” I hope that sounds convincing.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if Cat would accept the trip as a gift. She’s so resistant to letting herself have anything nice, especially if she can find someone needier to give it to. I’m trying to spoil her like she deserves. It’s turned out to be harder than I anticipated.
When I glance up at Cat, she’s frowning. Her guidebook is closed, and she’s looking down at her phone like it insulted her.
“What’s wrong?” I demand.
“Look, Nate. How did they get this? I didn’t see any paparazzi.”
She passes me her phone. It’s open to the Toronto Tea, showing a photo of Cat and I on our way into the airport.
I’m opening the door for her while she glances back at me.
It’s grainy, obviously taken on a cell phone from far away, and zoomed in.
We look less like a CEO and his assistant and more like a pair of celebrities hiding from the paparazzi.
“It wasn’t paparazzi. Some amateur photographer must have recognized us and taken this at the airport. They probably sold it to the Tea for a few hundred dollars,” I explain.
She frowns. “How do you know that?”
“It’s happened before, to me and my friends. The Tea has a video of Beau drunkenly dancing to Sabrina Carpenter and plenty of photos of Ryan bringing girls home. If you’re a public figure, sometimes there are eyes on you when you don’t expect it.”
“But I’m not a public figure,” she says, blinking.
I choose my words carefully. “Now that you’re…associated with me, you are. At least the picture they got is harmless.”
“Maybe to you, but not to me. You might be used to the spotlight, but I’m not, and I don’t like being watched.”
I feel a twinge of guilt, knowing that she’s been watched plenty of times without her knowing. Not by photographers, but by me.
Cat’s not done yet, either. “You must like all the reporters, or you would have made them go away by now. Admit it, you enjoy being famous for being rich, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I tell her honestly. “I don’t care what strangers know about me, but it’s good publicity for UPS. When I’m in the papers, so is my company. I have publicists to shoot down anything terribly embarrassing, but if the Toronto Tea wants to show me walking through an airport, so be it.”
“Is money more important than your privacy?” she snaps. “Seriously, how much more successful does UPS have to be? When will it be enough? Or do rich people just get obsessed with acquiring more and more, never thinking about whether they deserve it?”
“I know I don’t deserve it,” I say. “I’m well aware of all the ways where I fall short.”
Cat’s mouth falls open. She looks lost for what to say.
I don’t want to hear her argue with me—I know it’s the truth.
I’ve failed many people in my life. I might work hard, but I know that no amount of work would justify why I should have everything, while people like Cat, who are genuinely good and generous, are scrounging for their next paycheck.
I know the world’s not fair. But maybe I can even the scales.
One of Cat’s curls falls forward onto her face, and I can’t resist reaching to push it back behind her ear. I’ve been trying so hard to keep my distance from her—I don’t want to push her into something she doesn’t want. The second I see her stiffen or pull away, I’ll back off.
But she doesn’t. Cat’s eyes go hazy when my fingers graze her ear.
So I push it further. I can’t help it—the tension between us is killing me.
“Maybe someone as beautiful and kind as you should be in the spotlight, Kitten.” I rub the back of her neck, running my thumb up into curls at the base of her head. “You’re right, wealth shouldn’t be what makes people famous. It should all be people like you, who actually make a difference.”
She shakes her head. “No thanks. I’ve got no interest in being famous.”
Cat has no idea how refreshing that is in my world. I’ve seen plenty of women target my friends, dreaming of a relationship that will raise their follower count, especially James as a famous CEO and Ryan, both as a poker player and as the one-time boyfriend of a few A-listers.
Leaning over, I kiss her neck, loving the smell of her skin.
“When you’re famous,” I tease, “I’ll change the media’s mind about you. I’ll make sure everyone knows how generous, hardworking, and forgiving you are.”
She sighs, shivering against my lips. “Nate…”
I hover above the skin at the curve of her neck, whispering against it. I’m almost afraid to ask, but I have to. “Color, Kitten?”
Her chest rises and falls as I grow dizzy from the scent of her. From the feel of her in my hands.
Please, Kitten…
Please.
“Fuck,” she murmurs. “Pink—”
Before she can say any more, I shut her up with a kiss. She’s so surprised, it takes her a second to kiss me back. But once she does, I’m done for.
She climbs out of her seat and into mine, her knees on either side of my hips. Her fingers weave into my hair, tugging it hard at the roots. Her mouth is hot and angry and sweet, kissing with a forcefulness I’ve never felt from her.
One I’m more than happy to return.
My fingers dig into her ass, pressing just hard enough that it won’t bruise. Her back arches and her breasts graze my chest. Her shirt rides up a little, and I take the opportunity to stroke her bared lower back. She feels so perfect, like her body was made to fit against my hands.
Cat lowers her hips so her core is flush against my cock. Even through the layers of our clothes, I imagine I can feel her heated pussy. I thrust up toward her, grinding my cock shamelessly against her.
“Feel what you do to me, Kitten?” My voice sounds rough and strained.
“Yes,” she rasps and kisses me again, gentler this time. Her body melts against mine, all her anger and frustration gone. I shouldn’t be surprised that someone so kind can’t hold onto negative emotions for long.
This time when she rocks her hips against mine, it’s not just a desperate motion for satisfaction. She moves with intent, showing me how it would feel if we weren’t clothed. For a second, I get to imagine what it would feel like to have her in my bed, completely naked and—
The intercom crackles and we both jump, surprised.
“We have begun our final descent. Please take your seats, fasten your seatbelts, and prepare for arrival.”
Fuck. I was so lost in Cat, I forgot that we don’t have time to go any further. Reluctantly, I pull away from the kiss and guide her back to her seat. Kneeling in front of her, I buckle her seatbelt for her and tighten it.
Cat’s breath catches, and I notice her thighs pressing tightly together. She liked me tightening that strap for her. I bite my lip to keep from grinning. I plan to use that bit of information the next time she’s mad at me.
I never claimed I don’t play dirty.