11. Alba #2
“Alba,” he said, his thumb stroking the inside of my wrist, his other arm drawing me closer to his chest. He was so warm, so broad. He smelled so good, so good—and I realized why he’d smelled familiar. I’d been inhaling the scent of him every night, right here in his office.
I know who you are .
He knew how far I’d fallen. My breaths were still unsteady, my heart beating so hard I knew he could feel my panic thrumming against the thumb he held at my wrist.
I marshaled my emotions into line and forced my lips to smile. Then I met his gaze. “You read all the sordid details, huh?”
There hadn’t been much in the papers about the end of my engagement to Cole.
My family was wealthy, but we weren’t in the public eye.
A couple of pictures on social media, some chatter in a few forums that followed the lives of Manhattan socialites a little too closely for my liking…
nothing that had me plastered on every tabloid the way a celebrity would be.
But the broad strokes were there, if you went digging. I didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Vaughn had done so. Ashamed, of course. And oddly flattered?
He’d looked me up. He’d wanted to know more about me, even though he hadn’t come into the restaurant to see me.
“I read that you were engaged, and now he’s reunited with an old flame. And you’re working at Carmine’s, even though your last name is Enders and your father is a successful financier on Wall Street.”
A grimace twisted my face despite my best efforts to stop it.
There was a silence. Vaughn’s thumb stroked my pulse point, and I stared at his shirt collar, his stubbled throat, the little divot in the middle of his chin.
“Do I need to send someone to murder your ex?”
I jerked, eyes snapping up to meet his gaze. “What?”
“He hurt you.”
The darkness of his voice sent warmth flooding through my center. It wasn’t a question, but I still answered. “Yes, but not the way you think.”
“What do I think?”
“That he tossed me aside to reunite with the mother of his child and then left me out in the cold.”
His eyes were icy blue, intense. “And that isn’t what happened?”
“What kind of company is this?” I asked, suddenly breathless. “How many hitmen do you know? Who are you?”
“Answer the question, Alba.”
“Yes, he was in love with another woman, but I was the one who ended it. I…” My voice caught.
I couldn’t tell him about James. I couldn’t tell him about my parents.
The end of my engagement hurt my pride, but it hadn’t hurt me .
Not the way the rest of them had. I took a deep breath, and the scent of his cologne went to my head. “I was glad when our engagement ended.”
Vaughn hummed. His thumb stroked. His other palm spread out, so I could feel the warmth of his hand against my waist. The heat of him seemed to chase away a chill that had sunk down to my marrow a long time ago, so long that I didn’t remember the last time I’d felt warm.
His head dipped slightly, and the stubble on his jaw brushed my temple. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, my head angling up. His cheek touched mine, the corner of his lips ghosting across my jaw.
I felt…safe. I also felt raw and naked, and I wondered what would happen if I let go entirely.
Maybe Vaughn would move his head a fraction of an inch, and I’d move mine, and then we’d be kissing.
Maybe those big hands would circle my waist, and he’d back me up so my thighs hit his desk.
Maybe he’d turn me around, bend me over, and fuck me so hard I’d forget my own name, forget everything that had happened over the past year.
Maybe I’d like that, my cheek pressed against the papers strewn all over his desk, my hands gripping the edge, my voice raw from crying out his name.
Then, quietly, with his lips close to mine, he said, “Tell me why you’re here.”
I opened my eyes. My panties were wet. “I work here,” I whispered.
He frowned. “No, you don’t.”
I pulled my body away from his, pulled my jacket open, and gestured to the logo on my uniform. “I do. I’m the cleaner.”
He stared at my shirt, then snapped his eyes up to meet mine. Then he went to his desk and pulled open a drawer. A moment later, a stack of half-crumpled papers landed on top of his desk.
My notes. My heart was a trapped bird, flapping in my chest as it tried to escape. If the ground had opened up and swallowed me whole at that very moment, I would’ve welcomed it. I stared at the notes, then at him. “Um,” I said, and stopped.
“This is you?”
“You ruined the carpet!”
“So quick to go on the attack, princess.” His voice was like soft velvet. I shivered.
Then I crossed my arms. My nipples were hard points, and I was glad for my jacket to hide them. “Am I wrong?”
“Why did you march in here like you were about to set it on fire?”
“No reason.”
“You didn’t look like you were going to clean. So what were you going to do?”
My hands landed on my hips, and I glared at him. It was easier to be outraged, to be angry. Then I wouldn’t have to think about how much I wanted him, how good he looked with his collar open, the shadows in the office carving out his features.
I moved forward and stood with only his desk separating us. My index finger speared the stack of notes. “I was going to write exactly what I thought of you and your staff.”
His brow arched. “Which is?”
“That you’re a bunch of messy pigs, and that I refused to clean up after you any longer.”
He reared back. “That’s a little harsh.”
“Have you seen the conference room?” I demanded, glaring.
When he combed his fingers through his hair and let out a tired sigh, I realized I wasn’t quite as full of rage as I’d been when I walked in. I was fighting with him…but there was no heat behind it. And when he leaned his knuckles on his desk and pinched his lips, a little piece of me melted.
“I bought dinner for the team. They’ve been working late all week. I’ll tell them to clean up after themselves. It won’t happen again.”
“Well, that’s great, but I won’t be the one to see it. Good luck with everything.”
He stood straighter. “What do you mean?”
“I’m quitting. I can’t do this anymore.”
“This as in cleaning? Or the restaurant?”
“Both!” I exclaimed, then took a breath and forced a smile. “Goodbye.”
It was high time I got out of here. He was too attractive, too dangerous. He made me want things that I knew would only hurt me in the end. Better to scurry back to the gilded dungeon from whence I came and forget that Vaughn existed at all.
Once again, I turned for the door. This time, he stopped me with his voice.
“Alba,” he said. “Wait.”
I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to run. My heart was beating unsteadily, and I felt weirdly embarrassed. He was here, in this fancy office at the top of this building, and I was…
I was the cleaner he hadn’t even thought about until I wrote that silly note.
I was the waitress who brought him his lunch, except when he was too busy doing important things to stop by and annoy me.
I was nobody. I was the woman who couldn’t hack it in the real world, who was running back to Mommy and Daddy as soon as life got too hard.
“You were right about the suit,” he said.
I angled my body so I could see him over my shoulder. “Well, yeah.”
Vaughn huffed, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “And you were right about the hair.”
I waited. I didn’t know what he was getting at.
He moved slowly, circling his desk once more. In the gloom, his movements seemed almost predatory. He stalked toward me, slow and steady, and I could do nothing but tremble as I stood there.
The urge to run fought with the urge to go to him. I wanted those strong arms around me, the warmth of him melting the ice that seemed to cling to my pores. I wanted to feel safe.
And I wanted him inside me. For the first time in over a year, desire snaked through me. His body on top of mine, his hands claiming me, his mouth?—
When he reached me, his hand landed on my upper arm, then slid down to my wrist. His thumb brushed against my bare skin there, and I couldn’t help the shiver that went through me.
“You were also right about how to act with potential investors. To pretend that it was already a done deal.” He spoke with a low voice that seemed to twine around me, drawing me closer to him.
I gulped. “Fake it till you make it,” I said. “That’s pretty basic stuff.”
His smile was a flash of white in the darkened office.
With my wrist still manacled by his fingers, I had nowhere to go.
Nowhere I wanted to go. Vaughn’s free hand rose up to brush against my cheek and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
The touch sent sparks through me. It was soft and intimate, and it made my heart ache for the old me—the one that believed in love.
“Why do I get the sense that I’m never going to see you again?” he asked, voice so low I hardly heard it over the hum of the computer and the rattle of the air vent.
I didn’t know why it felt like a dangerous question. I didn’t even know why I told him the truth. I lifted my gaze up to meet his and whispered, “You probably won’t.”
His gaze landed on mine, then dropped to my lips. “I wanted to come see you at Carmine’s,” he said. “Thank you properly for your advice.”
I snorted, pretending like his words didn’t send a wave of relief crashing through me. He’d wanted to see me. He’d thought about me. It hadn’t been the rejection I’d imagined.
And how silly was I for thinking those things? Why did I even care?
I pulled my wrist from his grasp, but I didn’t step away. “If you don’t have a single person in this company who is able to tell you when you’re wearing a bad suit, then you need to find someone who will.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Did you get another job?”
“What?”
“You said I’d never see you again. That means you’re quitting this job and the one at Carmine’s. You found something better?”
That made me laugh. “I guess you could say that.” If “something better” was selling my soul for a life of ease. Giving up the shitty independence I’d found scratching out my existence this past year in exchange for the money and privilege I’d grown up with.
I couldn’t do it anymore. The long hours, the body-breaking work. The endless tunnel with no light in the distance.
Turned out my integrity did have a limit. I’d finally reached mine.
“Work for me instead.”
My gaze, which had wandered down to study the stubble on his jaw and the movement of his throat as he spoke, snapped back up to his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“An investor is interested. Arlo Noble. But he wants me to attend his charity’s fancy gala thing. I have no idea how to…be. How to act. What to wear. You do. You could coach me.”
My heart thumped.
I could do that. I could make this man into a titan. He had the looks and the money and the bearing; he just needed a few tweaks. It would be so easy. I’d have to go nearer to a world where money was no object and privilege was a given. A world I’d almost been shackled to by marriage.
But even if I worked for Vaughn, I wouldn’t be part of that world. I’d be the little matchstick girl, freezing in the cold while I watched from outside the window. Watching him from outside the window.
I blinked back to myself and forced myself to stand taller. “Maybe you’re not coachable, Vaughn.” I said it flippantly, because my heart had started to race.
Even if I’d forever be on the outside looking in, working for Vaughn gave me what I needed most: another option. I could work for him…and then who knew? Maybe something would come of it. I wouldn’t have to call my mother. I wouldn’t have to get on my knees and beg.
And I wanted to see Vaughn again. I wanted to feel the buzz of our banter, to see the line of his jaw and the way his face lit up when he smiled.
I wanted to feel my heart thumping the way it did when I saw him walk into the restaurant in that suit.
I wanted to make him laugh again. If I worked for him…
Oh my God, no. I was so, so attracted to him. Working for him would be disastrous.
“I got new clothes, didn’t I? And my barber comes to the office every week.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s coachable.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You’re lying to me.” His eyes sparkled. Working for him would be my downfall. I had to get out of here before I made the worst decision of my life—and that was saying a lot.
“You know what? This is over. Goodbye.”
He beat me to the door and stood in the opening, palms braced on the frame. “Alba,” he pleaded.
“Get out of the way.”
“I need you.”
“No, you don’t. Let me leave.”
“You’d be hired as a consultant. Name your price.”
I crossed my arms and arched a brow. “Dangerous words.”
“I mean it.” He dropped his arms from the doorjamb and let out a long breath. “I’ve made no headway in finding an investor. None. Until you.”
He closed the distance between us. His cologne smelled rich and masculine, and it took all my self-control not to lean into him. His blue eyes looked darker in this light, and I could tell he was serious.
It was another option. A way out. If I could resist him…
“Name my price?” I asked.
His eyes flared, and the corner of his lips lifted. “Anything.”
“I’m going to need a written copy of the job description.”
He dug through his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Put your contact details in there. I’ll have something to you by the time you walk through your front door.”
This was such a stupid idea. He was a shiny lure, dangling just beyond my reach. He was the illusion of the life I left. Working for him would only remind me of everything that I’d lost.
But if he was serious about naming my price, it meant working for him would also buy me time. It would buy me my independence for just a little bit longer.
I could resist my attraction to him if it meant keeping my freedom. Couldn’t I?
My father’s words rang in my ears, the ugly way his lips had twisted when he’d called me a whore. Yes, I could resist my attraction to him if it meant staying away from that .
I handed him his phone back, and he tapped the screen. My own phone started buzzing in my purse. I arched a brow. “Really?”
“Just making sure,” he said, smile flashing.
I tried not to acknowledge what that smile did to my stomach. I marched past him and didn’t look back as I walked to the elevator. And when the doors closed and I was finally alone, my hand lifted up to touch the spot on my cheek where his fingers had brushed.