Chapter 2 #2
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m blathering on this way.” I cover my face with my hands. “I think I just need to go up to my room, take a shower, and forget that today ever happened.” Along with the help of copious amounts of fried food and alcohol. My therapy. I wasn’t kidding about that.
“Oh no, dear. You’re absolutely fine. I was just thinking. What did you say your name is again?”
“I didn’t. It’s Bianca…” I hesitate, wondering which last name I should give her since I’ve had four since I was born, but decide to go with the one that’s on my license even if it’s not the one I’ve gone by most of my life. “Barlow.”
“Bianca Barlow,” she reiterates as if testing the flavor of my name on her tongue. “Pretty name. Unique. I haven’t met too many Biancas before.”
“I don’t always go by that name, and I’ve had my share of last names, but I prefer being called Bianca now.”
“I can understand why. It’s lovely.” Her eyes are all over me.
So green, they’re like summer grass. “Back to what we were discussing with your situation. Would it be completely out of line if I told you I happen to have a job that requires filling? Almost immediately. And it sounds to me as if this might just be the thing for you with your degrees.”
I stare incredulously at the woman. “I’m sorry. It’s like eleven thirty in the morning and I’ve already had the longest day of my life. So, I’m not exactly sure I heard you correctly. Did you just offer me a job ?”
She grins at me, those green eyes glittering in amusement. “I believe I did.”
“But… you don’t know me. I must look and sound insane.” I gesticulate to my scrubbed red face and puffy eyes down to what’s left of my dress.
“Insane? No. Smart, brave, tender, honest? Yes.” She steps into me, placing her hand on my shoulder.
“Bianca, I’m going to level with you a bit.
One of my many talents is reading people.
And believe it or not, you just divulged a great deal of information that I find quite useful given the circumstances.
My instinct tells me you’d be perfect for the role I have in mind, and my instincts have never led me astray. ”
My eyebrows pinch in. “I think you lost me a bit.”
“I happen to run a rather large charitable foundation that could use an executive assistant with a strong business and finance background to help with some transitions we’re going through.” She reaches back into her purse and pulls out a cream-colored business card, handing it to me.
“Octavia Abbot-Fritz, Abbot Foundation CEO,” I read. Fritz. Suddenly I start breaking out in hives, heat swarming my face while my heart races in my chest. I blink at the card and then up to her. “Fritz. As in Kaplan Fritz?” I whisper, the name flying from my lips without restraint, my voice shaky.
Oh my god. Things start churning through my head. Memories I haven’t allowed myself to indulge in for years. Correspondences.
Green eyes…
She’s not even slightly fazed by me mentioning her son’s name. Likely because everyone on the planet knows of Kaplan Fritz. Even if I haven’t allowed myself to look him up in years. I forced myself to ignore everything and anything published about the Fritz family.
“You know Kaplan?”
I shake my head because I’m absolutely, positively freaking out of my mind.
He looked familiar. Her too. I just couldn’t place it.
I told myself I was imagining things. “He and I met a long time ago when I was very young. He knew one of my stepsiblings.” I can’t say anything more.
Not about how I know Kaplan or the fact that I’m nearly positive now that it was him I hijacked and forced to drive me here.
He mentioned he was coming here to this hotel too. Was he coming to meet his mother? That must mean he’s here somewhere, and oh my god, I’m going to throw up.
“How lovely. What a funny coincidence.”
If only she knew just how big that not-so-funny coincidence might be.
She smiles softly down at me. “Well, I believe this was fate meeting you here.”
The door to the bathroom flings open a second time and a very pregnant woman comes racing in only to stop short when she spots us.
Her eyes round with shock and possibly a touch of embarrassment.
“Sorry. I…” She points to the stall and then her belly as if that explains it all.
It does. I mean, come on. She goes flying into the stall, locking it.
“Lovely dress,” she calls out and I’d roll my eyes or say thank you or whatever bullshit I should say, but I can’t.
I’m too stuck in this silent moment of hysteria.
“I must be going, otherwise I’ll be later than I already am,” Mrs. Fritz says. “But please consider the opportunity I spoke about. It is a very real offer, Bianca. I’d love for you to come work with us. Email or call me anytime and we’ll work out the logistics.”
With my thoughts scattered and my hands shaking, I offer an awkward smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Fritz. For everything.” I wave my hand around the bathroom.
“It’s Octavia, dear. And we’ll be talking again very soon. I just know it.” She squeezes my arm. “It was a delight meeting you. Best of luck.” With that, she waltzes out of the bathroom, leaving me here reeling.
“Holy fuck!” Was that actually Kaplan? Could it have been?
Sucking in a deep breath, I meet my reflection in the mirror.
“Holy fuck,” I mouth this time to myself only to hear the toilet flush and hightail it out of the bathroom.
Nervously, I glance around the lobby, but there is no sign of Octavia or Kaplan.
Heading straight for the registration desk and thanking a merciful Jesus that there isn’t a line I have to wait in, I explain my situation to the woman.
Luckily, she remembers seeing me this morning when I first came downstairs to leave for the ceremony.
She gives me a new key, which automatically shuts off Tod’s key, and promises that someone will be up shortly to retrieve his bags and that he will not be given a new key to the room.
I can’t get in the elevator fast enough.
I can’t get into the suite fast enough. Every second feels like an eternity as I scroll through all I remember about what Kaplan Fritz looks like.
I’ll be honest, I only saw him a couple of times and that was a child and then a teenager.
I avoided him since. My already fragile, wounded heart simply couldn’t take it.
Entering the suite, I can’t decide if I want to laugh or cry at what’s waiting for me.
There is a trail of pink rose petals leading into the bedroom where there are more rose petals, these in the shape of a heart on the bed.
There’s also a bottle of champagne on ice and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.
Clearly housekeeping believed this was going to be the honeymoon suite of love.
I snort derisively, shoving all the petals onto the floor and letting out a shrill slew of curses I’d never dare say in front of someone like Octavia Abbot-Fritz.
Stalking over to the phone, I pick up the receiver and hit the button for room service.
I order up a bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a piece of chocolate cake.
Once that’s done, I gather up anything left of Tod’s.
All of his products and things from the bathroom and any remaining clothes.
Then I shove them all into his suitcases and wheel them out the door of the suite, slamming it shut behind me with far more oomph than necessary.
Then I strip down out of this godforsaken wedding dress, throw it into the closet along with the bathrobes and slippers and shut the door. I shower quickly, doing my best not to think or analyze or anything else. I’m a robot. A woman on a mission.
I apply face moisturizer, run a brush through my long hair, throw on a pair of shorts and a tank top, and then climb on the bed. My phone is riddled with missed calls and texts. I don’t dare look. I can already imagine what’s waiting for me there.
Instead, I power it down, plugging it in on the nightstand.
That’s when I open my laptop, staring at the home page—a picture of my latest creation—while I mentally pep talk myself a bit.
If it’s him, it’s not a big deal. If it’s him, he obviously didn’t remember you—not that you remembered him .
That stupidly makes me frown and I pop open the champagne, pouring myself a glass because I think the hot piece of man candy who is likely Kaplan Fritz was right.
I should be celebrating my newfound freedom.
The potential of a job that was just handed to me.
Fate. It’s the word Octavia used and it’s the same one I used in the car. It’s not something I’ve considered all that often. In fact, most times, I’m more inclined to give fate double middle fingers while mooning it. But after today…
Maybe this is all fate? Or simply one hell of a fucked-up coincidence.
Let’s find out for sure…
Taking a sip of my champagne, I type Kaplan Fritz into my search engine and hold my breath.
In under a second, there are tens of thousands of articles and posts and magazine covers populating the page.
All saying some variation of the same thing.
Brilliant doctor. Billionaire. Most eligible and sought-after bachelor.
Heir to the Abbot Foundation. Boston’s favorite prince.
But it’s his picture. His handsome face.
A deranged sort of laugh flees my lungs and I down the rest of my glass only to refill it.
Ho-lee-shitballs. I was in the car today with Kaplan Fritz and I didn’t even realize it.