Chapter 12
Marco
“ I ’ll draw up your new contract by end of day,” I say, watching Erica carefully avoid my gaze. My brows furrow as she gives a nod and stands from her chair, letting me know the conversation is over. I barely get a goodbye out before she’s already slipped out the door, and it lands on deaf ears.
I sit back in my chair. Her perfume still lingers as I stare at the closed door she just left through. My eyes couldn’t help falling to her rear as she moved expertly in that black dress. I realized she could make anything look good, and that might be a distraction. A welcome one.
The disappointment I carefully tried not to show during our encounter creeps in as I replay the last few minutes. I had expected our meeting again to go much differently. In fact, I had been waiting all week to bring her in here because of my own nerves and expectations.
I was probably stupid for thinking we could pick up where we left off a year ago, but a part of me hoped she’d be happy to see me.
Her pretending like she didn’t know me was a rude awakening.
If I wasn’t so familiar with her face and all the expressions it held; laughter, pleasure, calmness, I would second-guess if I have ever met her at all with the way she acted toward me.
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
She had said the words so surely, as if I had never pressed my lips against hers or felt her surround me entirely in crashing waves of pleasure.
Maybe she was upset I left her that morning, or maybe she truly didn’t remember.
We had consumed cheap champagne, followed by upscale cocktails at the jazz bar, but she hadn’t been wasted.
I like my dates conscious and coherent, and she proved to be as she commanded me with her body that night.
I drum my fingertips against her file, the words Erica Gunner printed on the file tab.
She’s taken me by surprise in more ways than one.
After finding out her last name last week, I knew I had heard it before.
After a quick Google search, I realized she is the daughter of Bryce Gunner, an even more barbaric CEO than me.
It’s hard to believe she’s his daughter.
Even harder to believe she’s working at this paper and not at his company.
Or her brother’s. Troy Gunner is another name I’m familiar with.
She never once brought up her family when we were getting to know each other. Then again, I had omitted information myself. I can’t help but feel like she’s me in that way, hiding who she really is. I wonder what her story is and hate how much more intrigued I am by her.
I shake my head, releasing my thoughts as I get back to the pile of folders in front of me. I have a business to run. Right now is not the time to be distracted by a woman, even though I know she’s nearby, and will be even closer now that I’ve promoted her to work alongside me.
Her promotion was earned, and has nothing to do with our previous sexual history.
It had been the right choice, knowing how passionate she is about the paper.
I can see that from her file. She has a flawless track record and her ambition was made clear in the way she talked about her job over drinks at the jazz bar.
It may have been a strategic choice too, though I’m seeing that my idea to get close to her is already failing miserably.
I sigh as I pick up another folder from the two stacks in front of me, the toss pile and the keep pile.
The toss pile is much higher, though I’ve whittled it down quite a bit already this week.
I’m nearly through it. Each meeting ended the same, with looks of fear, anger, and sadness on each employee’s face.
I’ve grown used to it by now. At least they each received a decent severance package. I’m not completely barbaric.
I press the intercom button on the phone on the desk, reminding myself that I’ll need a new one for my new office. George’s style is as old as he is.
“Jessica, can you send the next one in, please?”
“Yes, sir,” she replies.
I lean back in my chair and wait, knowing with each person I fire, whatever anger Erica has toward me grows. I wonder why I let it eat at me so much.
By the end of the day, I’m exhausted. The company is bigger than I anticipated, and going through the roster of employees took me all week, but I finished one of the main to-dos on my list: Downsizing.
By the time I’m finished, the sun has already set and the majority of the office has cleared out, including Erica. I need a stiff drink right about now.
As I walk toward the elevator, I stop at Jessica’s desk, where she’s packing up her things and looking equally as tired as I am.
“Did you get that contract sent to Erica Gunner?” I ask.
“Yes, Mr. Vallejo. I sent it a few hours ago.”
“Thank you. Have a good night.” I nod and head out, fully intending to end up at a bar with a bourbon in hand. And I do. I wind up at Bemelman’s with my good friend, Jacob.
“How did it go?” he asks, taking a sip of his old fashioned.
“Rough,” I say, loosening my tie.
“Wow.” He looks surprised.
“What?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You’re usually more peppy when you take over a company.”
“It’s complicated.”
He looks at me curiously, and I realize I’m not leaving this bar without an explanation of some sort. I sigh as I tell him all about Erica and how we spent the night together a year ago, and how she now works for me.
“Damn. That is complicated,” says Jacob, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you just fire her? It would make your life easier.”
“She loves her job. Plus, she’s good at it. She’s going to make this acquisition easier.”
“Are you sure you’re not just keeping her around to get her in your bed again?” He gives me a sly smile.
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes.
By my second drink, all I can think about is Erica.
Not one woman at the bar interests me, and the women at that bar usually go there to catch the interest of high-profile businessmen, wearing skintight dresses and sky-high heels.
They’re all the same. I usually go for them.
I could use the distraction right about now, but it doesn’t feel right when my mind is consumed by another woman.
When I arrive early at the office on Monday morning, I sift through my emails, looking for the one I’ve been waiting all weekend for.
I see it, sitting at the top of the list. Erica’s signed contract.
It looks like she barely signed it this morning.
I wonder if she spent the weekend debating if she should take the job or not.
Either way, she did, which means she will be working with me from now on.
As if on cue, there is a knock at my door and my assistant Jessica pops her head in.
“Ms. Gunner is here to see you, Mr. Vallejo,” she says.
“Please bring her in.” I nod.
Jessica pushes the door open all the way and I see Erica standing behind her.
She looks unsure as she stands there in a white button-down blouse and a cream skirt, her hair pulled up in a bun, except for the tendrils of hair that have escaped and hang on either side of her face.
I’m taken back by her beauty, but try not to show that it feels like the wind has been knocked out of me.
“Good morning,” I say brightly.
“Good morning,” she says coolly as she steps inside, Jessica closing the door as she leaves us alone.
“Next time, you don’t need to check in with my assistant.”
“Right. Okay.” She hesitates a moment before taking the seat across from me.
“Did you have a good weekend?” I ask, trying to make small talk as a way to ease into the work day, and also out of curiosity. I want to know more about her.
“Just fine.” Her voice is clipped, her tone cold.
I chew on the inside of my cheek as I realize that’s all I’m getting from her. She’s so unlike the woman I met on the rooftop that night. That woman was warm and enthusiastic. This woman is cold and distant. She’s starting to make me wonder if that night even happened. But it did.
Then a thought hits me. Maybe she really doesn’t remember me.
After all, I don’t really know her. Aside from her file filled with HR’s praises and the fact she’s a billionaire’s daughter, I don’t know much else.
Maybe she has casual hookups all the time.
I feel a slight pang of jealousy at the thought of another man’s hands on her.
She could have been with someone last night for all I know.
It has been a year after all, and I haven’t been a saint myself.
In fact, I took up the barista on her celebratory offer just last week, a few days after I obtained the paper.
It was a fun romp in the back of the coffee shop, but nothing mind-blowing.
It was simply a way to release my stress.
My night with Erica stands out more and that had been so long ago.
That’s saying something. It’s disappointing to think her memory doesn’t serve her as well as mine.
I look up at her now, trying to read her dark green eyes as she forces them to look back at me.
It’s like it pains her to do so. I can’t help but feel frustrated.
I’m starting to wonder if promoting her to this job was a good idea.
A distraction this big is the last thing I need as I take on a new company.
I remind myself it’s only temporary. Plus, I’m still holding out hope she will thaw toward me.
“Right. Well, we have a big week ahead of us,” I say. “Now that I’ve made necessary adjustments to the staff, we’re moving to my building on the upper east side.”
“We’re what? ” she asks, her eyes wide.
“Most of my businesses are housed there, and this one will be too. It’s easier for me to oversee things.”
She shakes her head as if she can’t believe what I’m saying. I try to have empathy for her, knowing everything she’s known is being ripped out from her. Her boss. Coworkers. This office. But it’s business. She can’t expect things to stay the same.
“Look, I know this isn’t easy for you, but I’m hoping we can get on the same page. It’s the best thing for this paper. You’ll see that,” I say.
She gives me a doubtful look, but I continue rattling off all the things we need to do this week.
She writes everything on a pad of paper, not missing a beat.
I watch the way she concentrates, her brows pulled together and her lips pursed in concentration.
I could watch her write lists all day. By the time I’m finished listing everything off, she looks at me wearily. I know the list is daunting.
“What about my column?” she asks.
“Take the time you need. I’ll have Jessica fill in when you can’t,” I assure her. I know how much her writing means to her.
“Thank you,” she says. I realize it’s the first nice thing she’s said to me in a long time.
Right then and there, I’m determined to soften her toward me. I wonder if that’s become a bigger goal than a successful acquisition of the paper.