Chapter 20
Marco
“So, what’s going on with you and that girl from the Conservatory Ball?” asks Jacob over the loud music of the club.
“Who?” I ask innocently, knowing exactly who he’s referring to. The stunner in the strapless dress that I couldn’t keep my eyes off of.
“Oh, come on, Marco. Don’t play dumb. I saw the way you were looking at her.”
I take a sip of my old fashioned and shrug. “It’s nothing,” I say.
“If it’s nothing, then why haven’t I seen you talk to, let alone look at another woman all night?”
“I have a lot on my mind. I did just take over a company, you know.”
“Which is why we are out celebrating,” says Jacob, holding up his drink and smiling at the cocktail waitress who has just brought a new round. He’s been eyeing her all night and I wonder when he’s going to pull the trigger and ask for her number, or for her to come home with him.
“On a Thursday night no less,” I mutter.
I wonder why I let him drag me out tonight. I still have to work tomorrow, and I have a big meeting in the morning with a website developer to completely re-do The NY Daily News site. It’s Jacob though. He can be insistent, and it’s been a while since we have gotten together for drinks.
Plus, my pent-up frustration at work, both sexual and not, has been building up the past few days.
After my errands for a made-up quest with Erica ended in a nearly three-hour lunch filled with conversation and genuine smiles across her lips, I can barely stop thinking about her.
Even more than before. It’s like we had turned some sort of corner over good Italian food in a little corner booth, but then her walls went back up.
It’s like I could visibly see her building them back up frantically as the waiter brought our check.
The past two days, everything had gone back to the way it was.
She was back to her cold self, carefully avoiding me, even though we work alongside each other.
It’s a wonder how she keeps her distance when we are in the same room or having a conversation.
It’s impressive, but ultimately frustrating. So frustrating.
Now that I know more about her, I want more. I can’t just have a morsel, I need the whole goddamn cake, and I want to lick the plate clean.
“You’re gone again,” says Jacob, bringing me back to reality.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“It’s not just work that’s got you like this, Marco. Hate to admit it to you, but I’m your best friend and I know you better than you know yourself. Although this whole pining away thing is new for you.”
“I can’t help it,” I say. “We have a history. Erica, the woman who works for me.”
Jacob looks at me, confused.
“I met her over a year ago at a party for The NY Daily News when I was still scoping them out. I lost track of the owner, but somehow found her and we spent the night talking, which led to dancing, which led to…”
“Fucking,” Jacob finishes with a sly smile.
“And it was mind-blowing,” I say, leaning back in the booth and staring up at the ceiling. The colorful, flashing lights are harsh against the darkness of the club. I blink a few times before sitting up straight to face Jacob, who sits there with a knowing look.
“I knew something was going on between you two.”
“Nothing is going on,” I say, shaking my head.
“You weren’t the only one casting fuck me glances that night.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“I saw the way she looked at you too.”
“She didn’t.”
“You must have missed it then. But you both were pretty obvious to me. So, what’s going on with you two? A little fun in the office?”
“No. None at all,” I groan.
“Yeah right,” says Jacob, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I’m serious. We just had that one night together, and then we didn’t see each other again until a few weeks ago.”
“Well, why don’t you start things up again?”
“I’ve tried, but she’s pissed at me for taking over the paper. I think she hates me most days.”
“Wow. That’s new for you. Women are practically on their knees within five minutes of meeting you.”
“Ha. I wish. I feel like I’m going crazy with her around. I need some sort of release.”
Jacob looks around at the club. It’s filled with young women dancing on the floor or waiting for someone to buy them drinks at the bar.
“Take your pick,” he says, gesturing around the room. “In fact, let me help you.”
“Please don’t,” I say, but it’s too late. He’s already waving over two girls who are nearby at a cocktail table. They whisper something to each other before giggling and making their way over with their drinks.
“Hello,” says the blonde one, looking at me with a smile that is surprisingly suggestive for first meeting someone.
“Hey,” I say, taking a sip of my drink and giving Jacob an annoyed look. But he’s already busy getting to know the blonde’s friend, a lanky raven-haired beauty who has sidled up beside him. I sigh frustratedly and scooch over in the booth to make room for the blonde one.
“I’m Cassidy,” she says, holding out her hand.
“Marco.” I shake it lightly.
“What brings you out tonight?” she asks.
“Just bored,” I say, knowing my face is as bored as I feel.
“I haven’t seen you around. Do you go out much?” she asks.
“Not really,” I say. At least not lately, not since Erica walked back into my life.
“Marco here is heartbroken,” says Jacob, cutting in.
I shoot him another annoyed look, but he just laughs it off.
“He could use some love.” He pouts.
Cassidy looks at me, ready to jump on that opportunity, and puts her hand on my knee. She gives me a sympathetic look.
“Is that true?” she asks, her blue eyes dancing.
I just take a sip of my drink. She runs her fingertips slowly up my thigh.
“You know, I’m really good at comforting people,” she says into my ear as she leans in close. “Whatever you need.”
I’ve been so pent-up lately, I almost give in to her touch.
It would be an easy way to release, and maybe I wouldn’t be so wound up at work.
Hell, it could even help with tomorrow’s meeting.
I feel her breath against my ear. It would be so easy to turn and kiss her, taste her.
Take her home and have my way with her. But instead, I shake my head and stand up.
“I should really be going, actually. I have to work in the morning.”
Cassidy shoots Jacob a look like she can’t believe what I’m saying.
“It was nice to meet you,” I say. “Jake, talk soon.”
I turn and leave the booth, and I’m pretty sure I hear him say, “More for me.”
I shake my head frustratedly as I push my way through the crowded dance floor of the club.
It’s the last place I want to be right now, with sweaty people and loud music and flashing lights.
I know the only place I want to be right now is with Erica.
I wonder what she’s doing right now, if she’s with anyone.
Outside, I hail a cab home and pass out, knowing it will make the morning come sooner, bringing Erica along with it.
I wake up the next morning feeling better than I’m sure Jacob was.
He left a drunken voicemail in the middle of the night, with those two girls laughing in the background.
I don’t feel remotely jealous or that I missed out.
I get ready for work and head into the office early to prepare for the meeting with the website developer.
I see Erica is already in her office, typing on her computer.
She looks up when she sees me, before looking back to her computer like I don’t exist. Great.
It’s going to be one of those days. She’s so hot and cold, I can barely stand it anymore.
I take a deep, frustrated breath and walk into my office to go over mockups for the website.
What The NY Daily News has currently is outdated and not user-friendly.
It’s like they’re trying to make you buy the paper to get the news.
Old fashioned and stubborn, that George was.
There’s a knock at my door and I see Erica peek her head in. I give her a smile, like I always do, but it’s only met with a tightlipped expression.
“Just seeing if you need anything before today’s meeting?” she asks.
“Actually, yes. Can you come in here?”
She looks hesitant.
“You can leave the door open.” I refrain from rolling my eyes. I have some self-control.
She nods and walks over to my desk where the mockups for the website are.
“Which one of these do you like the best for the new website?” I ask.
She picks up each one, looking over them intently, her brows furrowing in concentration or anger, I’m not sure. I wait for her to say something, but she just keeps flipping through them. I wait patiently, drumming my fingers against my leg.
“These are all so different from what we have now,” she finally says.
I know now it was anger festering as she looked through the mockups. Anger that I was changing another thing about what she loves.
“Just getting with the times,” I say.
“With this, no one will buy the paper anymore.”
“Online subscriptions can’t hurt...”
“But it’s not the same.”
“Nothing stays the same. Paper journalism is dying. I’m trying to at least save the paper by bringing it up to date. Don’t you want it to succeed?”
“Of course, I do,” she says sharply.
“Then let me do what I do best.”
“What’s that?” she asks, crossing her arms and giving me a look that settles in me uneasily. “You take something nostalgic, turn it on its head, and make it something completely different just to sell it off to someone else.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with the paper yet.”
Erica rolls her eyes.
“I meant what I said about how important it is to you.”
“Like you care.”
She puts the mockups down on the desk.
“I don’t care what you pick. I’ll see you at the meeting,” she says before leaving my office, slamming the door behind her.
At the meeting an hour later, she barely says anything as I settle on the most reminiscent mockup I could, paying tribute to the paper she knows and loves, while still bringing it up to speed with the times.
I thought the choice would make her happy, but she barely acknowledges me when the meeting lets out.
It’s not even lunchtime, and I just want to get the hell out of there.
I tell Jessica to cancel the rest of the day’s meetings and leave the office, not bothering to tell Erica.
It’s not like she cares anyway. I debate going to the bar, but instead head to the gym to get some of my frustration out on the punching bag.
As I punch the bag, sweat pouring from my forehead, the soreness from each punch feels good.
I didn’t know how much I needed this. It’s been awhile.
My mother’s poor health. Erica’s coldness toward me about everything.
The paper. Our past. The kiss. It feels good to let it all out.
I tell myself I have to come here more often.
It’s a healthier choice than top-shelf bourbon.
I’ve needed a release, and since it can’t be with Erica, I guess it will be working out instead.
After my workout, I take a cold plunge before heading home.
I have the weekend to look forward to. Two days without going through the internal hell Erica has been putting me through.