Chapter 6 Savannah #2
His face sours slightly with sympathy, but there is also a shade of something else… almost like he can relate.
“I was raised by my aunt Bea from my dad’s side. Never any hesitation, she welcomed me home. I love her so much. She always ensures everyone has a place at the table, and love is shown among the family. She’s an amazing human. I’m truly lucky.”
Julian scratches his cheek and appears remorseful that he brought up the topic. “Sorry. I didn’t realize about your parents.”
Out of instinct, my hand lands on his knee to ease him. “Don’t worry. You didn’t know. I’m over it.”
He squints his eyes to examine me for a second. “Are you?” I’ve never heard him show concern for someone’s feelings, or rather, dare to ask the question that people avoid. It strikes a chord in me because it softens him.
“Yeah,” I say honestly. “My mom doesn’t cross my mind.
Why should she? She made her point clear, and if she ever reached out, I’ve already had it set in my mind for years that I wouldn’t accept that.
” I’m not even numb about the cards dealt to me in life.
Probably because I was handed an even better hand.
Julian seems slightly skeptical but accepts my answer either way. “If you say so.”
“My aunt, I’m surprised I haven’t mentioned her more in the office.
Then again, you and I don’t really talk…
in this way… outside of work. Anyhow, I’m protective of her.
I’m kind of angry that the town wants to rezone lines, and that will affect her business.
She owns a restaurant on a riverboat.” When I look down, I realize I’m still touching his thigh, and I struggle to abandon the feeling of his hard thickness underneath my palm.
Another thing to add to our inappropriate-boundaries list, but in this moment, it doesn’t feel like that.
Maybe that’s why I take an extra second before I remove my hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Touch me?” His eyes are pulling me in. “You’re fine.” He breezes past it. “A riverboat?”
I nod my head. “Yeah, the Riverbell. The boat doesn’t actually move, though. It’s an old steamboat. She doesn’t cook, either. Only owns it and ensures the tiny details are right and hospitality is perfection.”
“Your story took a turn. I wasn’t expecting the steamboat.
” I don’t want to enjoy his current light mood, but I’ve already begun.
“That’s great you have her.” He helps himself to the appetizer.
“That department might have been lacking for me growing up. The nannies weren’t exactly family worthy, but that’s years ago and long forgotten.
” He references himself, which is surprising given his notoriously private nature.
“Is it?” I press.
I don’t know the finer details, but it’s well known that Julian has zero relationship with his father, and it is a silent rule among the company never to speak his name, even.
It suddenly hits Julian that he shared something personal with me. “Yes,” he replies firmly with a warning searing into me not to push on.
“Okay.”
He rolls a shoulder back and eases only slightly. “I mean, I have my older sister,
Caroline. We don’t talk frequently, though. We’re on different paths in life.”
I’m surprised he’s sharing anything at all. “It can happen. I don’t have any siblings. Only cousins and best friends.”
“Elodie, you mean?”
I nod. “We were neighbors on our street growing up. I’m even a godmother to her little girl. The dad isn’t in the picture, but luckily, your company has great daycare to help her out. Do you remember everyone’s names who works for you? It’s a couple hundred people.”
A thin line appears on his mouth. “Almost. Why? Does that shock you?”
“Yes,” I say bluntly.
“I can be full of surprises.” He smirks sheepishly to himself.
I’m doubtful. “I’m sure your surprises are not earth-shattering.”
His intense gaze returns. “You’ll be amazed.”
Actually… I won’t be.
It’s always been apparent to me that he has secrets about himself that he keeps guarded. Maybe one day something will be revealed, and I will be prepared to listen.
I tap my fingers on the bar top and aimlessly look around, letting the awkwardness float between us. “The new menu is tasty.” Small talk could be a cure.
“We talk about food a lot, but yes. Piano?”
“Huh?”
“Do you play piano?”
My eyes squinch at him. “No. Was that part of the requirements for my job or something?”
He shakes his head with an almost boyish grin. “Nah. Merely wondering. I used to play.”
“Really?” He nods. “As in a secret classical pianist or a do-re-mi forced lessons pianist?”
“My secret that you may never find out.”
“I used to dance ballet. I would often come into the city when my aunt would take me to see a show.”
“You don’t dance anymore?”
I stammer a laugh. “No. Probably because I don’t have the body for it.”
He looks off into the distance behind me, yet the corner of his mouth lifts. “I would highly
disagree.” His vision zips and arrows right into me. “I’ve seen, remember?”
My face warms, and everything he says makes my body sing. “Right.” My T is sharp. “That incident.”
He takes a sip of his drink while he chuckles low. “We’ve been good all day at ignoring it. Thanks for actually wearing clothes instead of a towel today, though.” He lifts his glass to me in a toast before taking another sip.
“You’re welcome.”
I’m melting in this chair, and if I’m not careful, the alcohol will cause a slip of my tongue. The only way to be saved is by diversion. “The dancing got me as far as being voted Miss Everhope when I was seventeen, but that’s it.”
“Miss Everhope? Is that like Homecoming Queen or something?”
I giggle quietly. “I think better. The entire town votes. It’s for the summer festival.”
His smile is new to me. It’s different, it’s warm, it’s honest. “That’s… well… a little too wholesome for me.”
“Yeah, you don’t do wholesome.”
The glint of his eyes grabs me. Perhaps, there was a warning in his words, and I missed it. A hint that he has a dark side. We kept eye contact even though our conversation cooled. I notice a woman on the other side of the bar eyeing him, and I bubble a laugh.
“You have a fan. I’ll find her number on a piece of paper during my next dry cleaning pick-up,” I tease him.
He doesn’t even glance over his shoulder; he stares at me with such concentration and swelter that I’m overwhelmed by his alluring pull. Even when he finishes off his whiskey, he doesn’t let go of our eye contact.
In my peripheral vision, I notice a woman behind the bar set down a brown bag, which I assume is his order.
Julian at last releases me from his gaze.
Except when he stands, his body brushes against me to grab the handles of the bag.
I can’t be imagining it. He is doing it on purpose.
I have a stronger whiff of his woodsy cologne, and his arm drifts far too close to mine.
My breath catches, and my body tightens, and it betrays me, too.
My nipples react as a result of him being only inches from me.
This man has power in and out of the boardroom.
I try not to imagine what he would be like in bed. Or is he a table guy?
His body sweeps back. “Ricky, you can put her bill on mine,” he tells the barman.
“Oh, you don’t have to do—” I try to protest.
He is quick to interrupt. “Don’t disobey me. My rules, since you’re my assistant, even if you have to get on your knees, remember?”
I wince at the reminder, and at the same time, I appreciate that we are actually having a casual conversation, though an innuendo is part of the formula to make the evening run smoothly.
“You wish,” I volley back, not even registering what I accused my boss of.
He scans the room before he leans down, and his mouth comes close to my ear, his hot breath radiating on my skin, and my pulse is speeding. “Have fun with my next dry-clean run, but you won’t find a paper with a number. I have a feeling you won’t be finding those anymore,” he whispers.
He leaves without any notice to me. It wouldn’t matter because I’m sitting here speechless.
Probably to cope with the loss of his near touch, which leaves me cold, because talking to him brought his body close.
Or he probably left me without words to process my thoughts.
The one where I am doubting myself about whether I interpreted everything right.
Because maybe his new no-number policy is because he has no interest, and maybe it has to do with me.