Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
ANA
I am slightly inebriated and a little unsteady because I haven’t eaten all day and two vodka martinis on an empty stomach was the worst idea I’ve ever had.
The trouble is, I required more information because when I excused myself earlier and ran to the restroom to call my brother, he told me to keep on digging and send him a list of names and job titles, with any gossip attached. I needed help and Eric is a mine of information that became a gold mine when he had a few cocktails.
The stuff he told me had my head spinning and I’m excited to return to the office tomorrow to follow up on it. Then I saw James and my mind was fucked because as soon as he walked into the bar, my entire body leaned his way like a flower toward the sun. It’s my intention to carry on where we left off because I’m guessing I could learn a lot from my dominant boss. After the boardroom incident I can think of nothing else and images of us naked in compromising positions have taken some pushing to the back of my mind while I focus on business.
I expect it’s because I’m inexperienced and haven’t had the opportunity to meet anyone like him. My brothers don’t count because I mean—eew. I’m guessing they are much the same as him with their poor unfortunate girlfriends and wives, but I have never had the chance to discover what the fuss is all about until I met James Warner.
We make our way to the bistro across the street and are soon settled at an intimate table in an alcove away from inquisitive eyes.
Once we order, Jame gazes at me with his dark enigmatic glare and I swear my entire body melts.
“This is a bad idea.” He says with a resigned sigh and I shrug, leaning forward so I am entering his personal space.
“I kind of like allowing a few bad ideas their moment. I mean, it gets a little boring being good all the time.”
He shakes his head. “If you knew exactly how bad it could get, you wouldn’t be here now.”
“Explain.”
I stare deep into his eyes and note the spark in his as he leans a little closer and whispers against my lips, “I’m not the hero, mysterious lady. I’m not even the villain. I am the monster. ”
Fuck, why is that so hot?
I shiver in anticipation as our lips almost touch and he says huskily, “I told myself the boardroom was the last time.”
I push down my disappointment and smile instead.
“So, what changed your mind?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
He reaches out and slides his hand around the back of my head and pulls me closer and as his lips touch mine, it’s as if they ignite a flame.
His kiss burns, and sears my flesh as lights explode in my brain and my heart flutters. I have never kissed anyone like this before and as our tongues collide, I moan softly, desperate for more—desperate for him.
He pulls back and leans away from me, running his fingers through his hair, and groans.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Why?”
I attempt to disguise the panic in my voice because I can’t lose him, not now when things are just getting interesting.
“Because we work together. I’m your boss.”
“So what?” I shrug. “Lots of people get together at work. It’s hardly forbidden.”
“It kind of is.”
There is something guarded in his tone and he won’t look at me directly.
“What is it, James? ”
The waiter appears with our drinks and the moment is gone and when we are alone again, I note the distance in his expression.
As I sip the wine that burns a trail down my throat, I change the subject. “Tell me about your brother.”
“Do I have to?” He groans, but I note the softening of his expression as he shakes his head.
“He has always been wild. I suppose our upbringing had a lot to do with that.”
“Your upbringing?”
I’m curious, and he nods, a wistful expression on his face.
“I never knew my father. Well, not really. My memory of him is blurred because he died when I was five years old.”
“I’m sorry, James.”
My own loss is too raw to dwell on the subject for long and I’m happy for him to carry on with his story.
“He was in the way of a train when he staggered home from the bar one night.”
“Oh my God!”
I stare at him in horror as he says bitterly, “He was a drunk, and beat my mom, so it ended satisfactorily.”
“He beat your mom!”
I can’t even begin to relate to that, and he sighs. “Like I said, I was young and Dylan a baby, but I knew to fear him because I heard mom crying most nights. He was out of work and couldn’t get a job, and alcohol was his only comfort. He would head out and when he returned drunk, he would take his frustrations out on her and I was too young to understand. I remember the night he never came home. There was an eerie atmosphere in the house. Almost as if mom knew he wasn’t coming back. When the cops knocked on the door, I was awake and remembered creeping out from my bed and watching through the crack in the door. She never cried. It was unusual because she cried every night, but not that one. She was calm. I remember that much and when the cops left, she told me to come out and show my face. I still remember that night as if it was the last one because she pulled me on her knee and whispered a prayer to the Lord to thank him for our salvation.”
He appears far back in the past as he whispers, “She rocked me in her arms and told me to work hard when I went to school. To be a good man and earn an honest living and make her proud.”
I am caught in his spell as he returns to the past, and I swear I’m not even breathing as his eyes hold mine.
“When she died three years later, we had nobody.”
“What did she die of?”
I reach across and take his hand in mine as a form of comfort, and he squeezes it hard. “Cancer. She never had health insurance and had the most basic care. She died three months after she told us. I was eight and Dylan was six.”
“What happened then?”
“We were orphans and taken into foster care. As we grew, Dylan fell in with the wrong crowd and nobody wanted the problem of the Warner kids. I worked so hard, my mother’s words fresh in my mind every day as if I just heard them. I wanted to make her proud. To be the man she wanted me to be, and that is why I seized this job when it came along.”
“The charity?”
“Yes. We help people like us. Like my mom. Women and children who suffer. We provide medical care for those who have no place to turn and make the lives of the poor better. I like to think she would be proud of me and that is why I care for Dylan so much. He resembles my father and prefers to take the easy road. He drinks, does drugs and will end up dead, which is why I’m grateful for what happened the other night.”
My eyes are full of tears and guilt is weighing heavily on me.
I’m lying to him.
I lied my way into his company for information. I have no noble calling and I’m helping nobody, merely using him to get information that will help my family. Nobody else, not those in desperate need and despite the fact my family donates millions to charity every year, it’s not as if I’ve even bothered to contemplate where it goes and what it means.
“What about you, Ana?”
I stare at him with what I’m certain is a guilty expression and I blink vigorously.
“There’s not much to tell, really. My life wasn’t hard, far from it in fact, and I have no noble cause to make you think I’m better than a common slut out for kicks.”
For some reason, he laughs out loud, and it eases the tension that flared up after the simplest question.
Our food arriving is a welcome distraction and as I twist the spaghetti onto my spoon, I steady my beating heart, that is fueled by guilt and lustful intention.
Despite the tense beginning the meal is spent enjoying good food, wine and easy conversation and as James settles the check, I am anxious for what happens next. Will we go our separate ways, or will we end up where I hope we do?
The air is cooler and I shiver as we step outside onto the sidewalk. James appears lost in thought and unusually for me I don’t know what to say.
“So–”
I peer at him through the darkening shadows and note he appears on edge. He looks around as if in search of something, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s related to what occurred in the alley. Maybe he’s been influenced by that and now looks for danger in every shadow.
At the sound of my voice, he stares at me with a regretful expression and says with a sigh, “I’ll hail a cab for you. It’s not safe for you to walk home in this city.”
“Will you join me?”
I hate that I sound so desperate and I hate it even more when he shakes his head.
“No. I told you, Ana, this was a bad idea.”
“And I told you it wasn’t.”
Fuck, why can’t I just accept what happened was a casual fuck and not the love story of the century? I’m not this needy person, clinging onto hope that the great man will notice me and declare his love for me.
I’m a strong independent woman and should act like it but there is something telling me our story isn’t over yet.