Chapter 14
“I feel like I haven’t seen you all week,” Greta says as she takes a sip of her soda.
“That’s because you haven’t,” I reply as I pull my salad out of the fridge, shutting the door with my hip.
For a man who can’t stand the sight of me and threatens to fire me with every other sentence, he has me in his office constantly.
I sit in on every conference call, trudge through every meeting.
Most of the time I’m silently working on my laptop, taking notes, or reviewing emails or presentations that come in.
Occasionally I shoot him texts on things he should mention or ask or suggest.
But we don’t talk a lot. Barely at all. You’d think after spending a week together like that he’d soften a bit, but if anything, he seems harder, more detached.
“This week has been nonstop. I feel like I haven’t left Kaplan’s office other than to go to a meeting here or there. I swear, I haven’t even sat in my own chair once.”
I take a seat at the table, popping the top on my glass Tupperware.
Most people leave the building for lunch, myself included—it gives me a break from the man in the suit—but today winter seems to be having some fun with snow and sleet.
We decided on an early lunch on the main floor of the building, which no one occupies or works on.
Octavia evidently didn’t like its easy access to the street or how open the view inside is.
“Oh please. No one here feels sorry for you.” Charlie smarts, lifting her sandwich to her mouth. “That man is damn fine, and I wouldn’t complain about having to stare at his pretty face all day.”
“That’s because you all see a pretty face while I’m left with the ass.” Someone sharply clears their throat from behind me and I groan. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”
I don’t need Greta or Charlie to reply. Their startled “oh shit” faces answer for them.
“Do you think he heard me?” I whisper.
They nod in unison, eyes wider than the sun.
“Fabulous,” I grumble under my breath.
“Morning, ladies,” Kaplan drawls, the tap of his expensive shoes growing louder as he approaches. His hand grips the back of my chair and I sigh. Yeah, he definitely heard me. “Early lunch, Bianca?”
I tilt my head all the way back to meet his stormy eyes. The man needs to learn how to smile more. Or possibly be less intense. “We don’t have another meeting scheduled today.”
“That’s because I moved them all. Here.” He tosses my computer bag, my purse, and my coat at me. “Let’s go.”
“What? Where are we going? And who on earth gave you permission to go into my desk and touch my things?”
Without answering, he turns on his heels and heads for the exit. “If you don’t follow me, you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me,” I yell after him, shoving my uneaten salad in Greta’s direction because the girl does not eat enough. “Ugh. See what I mean?” I throw my arms into my coat and toss both my purse and computer bag over my shoulder.
“Good luck with Prince Charming,” Greta chirps with a flirty grin.
I roll my eyes, throw them a wave, and then chase after him, my heels clicking loudly against the hard surface of the floor. Kaplan is standing by the front doors, peering out. Most of the paparazzi have cleared out, losing interest in stalking Kaplan here after a week of nothing.
“Please tell me we’re not walking. I’m in four-inch heels and you didn’t remember my hat or gloves.”
He turns away from the door and studies me for a moment, takes in my outfit, frowns, and then turns back to the door. “Button your coat.”
“Yes, sir,” I mock, and his head snaps back in my direction, his eyes darkening.
“Do you always refer to your boss as an ass to everyone you speak to?”
“Nope.” I pop the P sound, grinning at his perturbed expression. “Just a select few, but it’s not like I have to say anything. You do a thorough enough job all on your own of showing everyone that side of you.”
A grunt and he turns back to the glass doors, peering out. “I’m waiting on Axl to pick us up.”
“Fantastic. No walking. Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?”
“Nope.”
“You know this relationship we have needs a lot of work.”
His head whips back around. “Our what ?”
“Relationship, Kaplan. In case you missed it, we’re in one. Deeply. Connected. Together.”
He looks pained.
“Yeesh. Lighten up a little, would you? You’re a doctor.
I’m sure you can safely remove the stick from your ass without causing too much damage.
We have a business relationship, Kaplan.
I am your employee, and you are my boss and yet you haven’t said more than five words to me since Monday.
I’m trying to be friendly here, but you’re making that oh so difficult.
Especially by stealing me away from my lunch. ”
“By calling me an ass and then telling me I have a stick up it?”
Touché.
“Fine. My apologies for the ass and the ass stick comment. But I’d truly like us to try and get along. Even a little.”
Just then a large black SUV pulls up and Kaplan opens the door, fighting the icy, wet wind.
Clutching my arm, he guides me straight for the back door that Axl opens, the burly security guard who reads poetry on his Kindle and listens to classical music.
His brother Slash is just as adorable, though he’s the strong, quiet type.
“Good morning, Axl,” I greet him with a cheery smile even as a fleet of icy pins hitting my face blindsides me.
“Bianca. Lovely to see you. You look radiant this morning. Hurry in, the car is nice and warm.”
“Thank you!”
Kaplan grumbles something I can’t make out under his breath as he practically shoves me into the back seat. The door shuts behind him, bathing us in a warmth that has me sighing and shuddering at the same time.
“When is spring again? Burr.” I shake out my hair that within two seconds of being outside is already coated in white ice.
With my seat belt buckled, we set off and I immediately turn toward the window, ignoring the man seated beside me because this seems to be our game.
Evasion. He didn’t answer me about trying to be friendly and I’m done chasing.
He’s obviously made up his mind about me.
“We’re going to—”
Chime.
“What is that?”
Reaching down, I grab my purse from the floor, slipping out my phone and glancing at the screen. “It’s just a notification.”
“Of what?”
I throw him a side-eye. “It’s from the dating app Charlie installed on my phone. It’s nothing. I meant to turn off the notifications, but I guess I forgot.”
“You’re on a dating app?”
I shrug up a shoulder at his incredulous, and maybe slightly caustic, tone. “I’m single. I’m living in a new city and why not try to meet people?”
“Let me see it.” He grabs the phone from my hand that I had already unlocked with my face and pulls up the app.
“Hey!” I bark, reaching for my phone. He swats me away, holding it out of my reach as he angles his body while looking at the message I just received.
“Jesus, Bianca. This is a dick pic.”
I scrunch up my nose, giving up the fight.
I don’t care all that much if he looks through that.
I haven’t done much with it anyway. Charlie set up the profile for me and I’ve occasionally scrolled through it, chatted a bit with two guys, but my head and heart aren’t into it.
I was planning on deleting the app anyway.
“You can delete that. But honestly, not all the men on there are like that. Some of them aren’t so bad.”
His brow creases as he scrolls through my potential matches, looking more agitated by the second. “Yes. They’re all this bad.” A hand through his hair and a curse under his breath as he reads some of the messages I’ve received. “Please tell me you’re not going on a date with any of these assholes.”
“What does it matter to you?” I fold my arms over my chest, my gaze cutting back to the window, watching the passing frozen Boston landscape as we slowly meander through the streets.
“Because you’re too good for a dating app like this. For one, you have money and that makes you a target. All anyone has to do is Google your name to learn that.”
That catches my attention. I turn back to him, my heart in my throat. “You sound as though you’re speaking from experience. What else did you learn about me?”
“Bianca Barlow, age twenty-five, recent graduate from UCLA with a bachelor’s in fine arts and a master’s in business and finance. Mother Mariana Barlow and father Duke Barlow.”
“Stepfather.”
He squints at me. “Stepfather then.”
“Blah. You knew all this about me already.”
“There wasn’t much beyond that except your stepfather’s presumed wealth was there for all to see. It’s as if you were born nine years ago.”
That’s because that’s when my mother divorced Elijah Parker and I moved to Texas, becoming Bianca Bunny Barlow.
“What happened to your real father?”
Now I gulp. “Died when I was one. Car accident.”
Ask me more, Kaplan. Ask me about my other stepfathers. About my childhood. About where I grew up before I lived in Texas.
His features soften. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
I shrug because it is what it is. I don’t remember my father, which sucks when you think about it, so I try not to.
“Still, you can’t go out with these men.”
He tosses my phone at me. It lands softly on my lap, and I frown.
So very tempted to tell him everything. To watch his expression as I do.
“You realize you have absolutely no right to tell me who I can and cannot go out with, right? If I want to date Dick Pic Guy or any other guy on there or anywhere else, I’m free to do so without judgment or questions from you. ”
He doesn’t have to say anything else. His displeasure radiates from his countenance. But tough shit. He lost the right to comment or act like he cares a long time ago.
“What if I went out with one of them tonight? It’s Friday.”
“You’re not.”
“How do you know I’m not?”
“Because you don’t seem interested in them.”
“Maybe I am,” I challenge. “Maybe I’m just putting up a front.”
“Bianca, don’t test me on this.”