Chapter 13
13
KYLIE
“ S o, you’re doing okay?” I ask Benny as I stand in the corner of the hall just outside the conference room.
We are just about to break for a couple of hours.
He sighs into the phone. The phone that I bought him before I left. It was the only way I felt comfortable leaving him. That, and the fact that Angela is watching him.
“I mean, you can keep texting me and asking … but my answer isn’t going to change. I’m fine,” he says. Of course, he says it slowly and with several pauses, but he doesn’t stutter once.
“I’m sorry, buddy. This is a big step for me, spending a night away from you.”
There’s silence on the other end for a moment.
“It … will … never mean … I … I … d-d-don’t need you.”
Oh gosh. Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks at the honesty in his words.
“I know. I’ll always need you,” I say as I start to choke up. “It’ll always be you and me in life.”
When I get off the phone with him, I tuck it back into my purse.
“Is he okay?”
A deep voice I’ve come to know so well startles me.
I turn around and see Lincoln leaning against another door behind me.
“Oh, um, yeah,” I say as I try to wave off my embarrassment. “I’m the one with the separation anxiety. Pretty stupid, huh? He’s twelve, not five.”
Instead of seeing judgment in his eyes, like I thought I’d see, I see understanding. Possibly even compassion. It’s throwing me for a loop. Him standing in front of me, all handsome in his suit and looking at me like I’m not just some annoying assistant. Looking at me like … he sees me.
“Not at all. With everything you’ve been through together, it makes sense. But I promise you, he will be okay.”
He pushes off the door and closes the distance between us. I look up at him when he gets too close for comfort.
“How can you promise that?”
“Because I hired a bodyguard to keep an eye on him while we were gone. He’s going to make sure nothing happens to him.”
I can’t believe the words I just heard. “You hired a bodyguard? He’s not allowed to go any farther than two blocks from our apartment for food.”
He smiles. “Then you know he’ll be safe within those two blocks. And just in case he tries to test his luck, like some twelve-year-old boys do, we’ll know he’s okay.”
“He’s not like most boys his age, but … thank you,” I whisper. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I’m not always the dick you make me out to be.”
I smile. That’s debatable, but I keep that to myself. “Thank you. That was really kind of you. Well, I’m going to go get some sun. Care to join me?”
I don’t know where that came from. That’s weird. Of course he doesn’t want to go swimming with me. I see the alarm on his face, like he wasn’t expecting the question either.
“Oh, I—I didn’t—I mean, I—I need to get some work done.” He stumbles over his words like he’s desperately trying to figure out how to reject my offer in the nicest way possible.
“No. I’m sorry. That was out of line. I should’ve known better,” I say as I begin to step away. “I’ll see you at the event tonight.”
“Right,” he begins, but I don’t wait around to let him finish.
I need to get away from the humiliation.
What part of me thought that was a good idea? I wonder as I ride the elevator up to my room. Probably the same part that kept picturing what he looked like without a shirt on last night.
I swear I heard a weird noise come from his room last night, only minutes after we separated. Minutes after he made my entire body flush with embarrassment and maybe a little curiosity when he implied his version of fun was in the bedroom.
What kind of fun does he have in the bedroom? Is it dominating, like in the book I just finished, or sweet and tender? I can’t imagine him putting much emotion into it. I don’t think I’d care which version I got.
With my own hotel room and my burning desire last night, I managed to have another orgasm. I’m going to become addicted to the feeling. I get really good sleep after I have one.
After I change into my black bikini—a purchase forced on me by Lincoln’s shopper, who I think had the wrong impression about our relationship—I grab my things and take the elevator up to the roof.
The pool is huge and looks so refreshing. I can see palm trees on the streets below and even the mountains in the distance.
I pick a wooden lounge chair in the corner and drape the towel I grabbed at the entrance across it. Then I pull my black bathing suit cover off and do my best to apply sunscreen everywhere.
Knowing my brain, I have zero ability to relax in silence, so I shuffle through podcasts until I land on a true crime episode. Perfect. That’ll keep my brain focused on something interesting.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself when I realize I didn’t bring earbuds.
I look around the pool. No one is going to care. Everyone is busy talking to someone else or lying on their chairs with their eyes closed. There’s not even anyone sitting directly beside me on either side.
I press play and make sure the sound isn’t too loud, then place it next to my head. I close my eyes and let the podcast suck me in. It isn’t until it feels like the sun went behind the clouds that I open my eyes.
But instead of the sun being hidden, a male figure is standing over me. I have to squint my eyes to make sure I’m seeing things correctly. Maybe I should pinch myself; I could be dreaming.
“Lincoln?” I almost gasp as my eyes adjust, and I notice his face behind his shades.
My eyes involuntarily move down his body and focus on his stomach. Holy shit. There are no words to describe this man’s abs. Sculpted, but not so much that it’s aggressive and intimidating. Broad chest with the sexiest amount of hair that travels down to where his black swim trunks sit on his thick hips.
I swallow hard as he just observes me staring at him like a lovesick teenager. Why did I have to take my sunglasses off?
His eyebrows rise. “You like something you see, Kylie?”
“I’m just surprised you own a pair of swim trunks,” I reply, hoping he doesn’t realize just how affected I am by seeing him like this.
He lays his towel on the lounge chair next to me and takes a seat. “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to have fun. I just prefer it to be … exclusive.”
I widen my eyes as my lips part, trying to take in the scene in front of me. Watching Lincoln put on sunscreen is like free porn. I’m positive if I were to slip my fingers into my bathing suit bottoms, I’d be soaked.
“Congratulations on breaking character and having fun like the rest of us,” I tease.
He chuckles. A rare sound that makes my heart skip a beat. “No pictures. I have a reputation to protect.”
It dawns on me that even with all the joking I’ve done, he doesn’t know I struggle with the same thing. I’ve worked so hard for so long. All of this is new to me. I don’t remember the last time I relaxed by a pool.
“Where did you go?” he asks, his eyes etched with concern.
“What?” I try to shake my thoughts.
“What were you just thinking about? I can tell it affected you,” he declares, studying me in a way that makes me shift in my seat uncomfortably.
“It was nothing,” I reply, but then his face turns hard. Crap. He’s not going to let this go. “Fine. I was just thinking I don’t know how to have fun myself. This is new to me as well.”
“A twenty-one-year-old like you doesn’t know how to have fun? I find that hard to believe.”
“I’ve told you my situation. Just like I didn’t have the means or time to travel, I didn’t have the time to have fun. I was too busy working to make ends meet or spending time with my brother.”
He lies back on his chair and closes his eyes. “I guess we both need to learn to loosen up a bit, huh?”
I start to think about what it would be like to learn to loosen up with him by my side. The images in my brain become more R-rated as the seconds pass until a voice interrupts them.
“Look at that. Boss mingling with his assistant. Maybe I was wrong about you two. You seem more well acquainted than I thought.” Galvin stands before us with a drink in his hand and his own black swim trunks on.
Although his body isn’t bad, it’s nothing compared to Lincoln’s.
Galvin’s definitely being a dick. I thought maybe it was just in Lincoln’s head and they were friendly jokes. But maybe he really did tease Lincoln in high school. What could he have teased him about? I can’t imagine Lincoln being anything but smart and popular.
“Get out of here, Galvin. I’m not in the mood.” Lincoln’s voice oozes revulsion.
“It’s a free country. I think I’ll plop down right here in this chair. Seems like a great spot to get some sun.”
Lincoln is out of his chair immediately, mumbling something to himself as he storms for the exit. Disappointment floods me as I watch him disappear from sight. So much for him learning how to have some fun. Maybe that’s why he likes his fun to be so … exclusive.
Just the way those words sounded coming from his mouth … dirty and filled with promises.
“Jeez. He’s being a little touchy. I was just joking.” Galvin inserts himself into my space. “How do you work for that man?”
“He’s actually a great boss,” I find myself saying despite all the times I’ve wanted to physically assault Lincoln.
“I don’t believe that. He must pay you a pretty penny for you to lie.”
Ugh, this man. I guess it’s my fun that’s being ruined as well. I grab my stuff and rip my towel from my chair. “I should get back to my room. I wanted to relax a bit before this evening.”
When I get back to my room, I slam the door and rip off my swimsuit.
“What a dick!” I exclaim to myself. “He somehow managed to ruin the one time I was able to try and unwind.”
I stomp into the bathroom and turn on the shower to let it warm up. It just goes to show that some people aren’t meant to live that kind of life. One where there’s time to relax and have fun. I don’t know what I was thinking that I could fit something like that into my schedule and not have the universe throw it back in my face.
After my shower, I wrap myself in my towel and fall into the bed. At least I can get some kind of rest before I have to get ready for tonight. Unfortunately, tonight is the gala, so I have to look even fancier than I managed to get away with last night.
Lincoln’s shopper helped me buy some makeup and hair products. Otherwise, I’d be clueless as to what to do with my hair or makeup. She even texted me some tutorial videos that broke it all down into easy steps. Like how to blow-dry your hair to add volume.
Who knew women were out there worried about how much volume was in their hair? Here I’ve been, worried about how much money was in my bank account and if I could afford rent and food.
After I wake up from a much-needed nap, I race over to the bathroom to make sure my towel-wrapped hair is still wet. Luckily, I have long, thick hair, so it’s still wet enough to work on blow-drying it correctly. I think. I hope.
When I look in the mirror for the final result, even I’m surprised by the woman staring back at me. She is nothing like the woman who stood in the coffee shop a couple of months ago with holes in the soles of her shoes and no trace of makeup.
This woman is standing in a long red ball gown that has black lace over it. Her breasts are on display, and her hair is voluminous, just like the video promised. She has on darker eye makeup with red lipstick that makes her look like someone who can walk into a room and command attention.
But the truth is, I don’t feel like that woman. How could I? A woman like that wouldn’t be a virgin. She would know what to do in the bedroom. She would know how to seduce a man.
Still, the makeover did its job. I look like someone who belongs, and that’s all that matters.
Since I’m running late, I text Mr. Monroe—or Lincoln—to tell him to go ahead without me and that I’ll meet him there.
As I walk into the grand ballroom, nerves settle in the pit of my stomach, reminding me I don’t belong here. These people are all wealthy—most come from money, I assume.
My world is miles apart from theirs. They don’t sit around and wonder how they are going to feed their family. No, they worry about which part of Italy they are going to vacation in this summer. I’m sure if they knew, only two months ago, I was making thirty-cent ramen for dinner just to get by, they’d be turning their heads at me.
Before I even try to find Lincoln, I go to the bar to get a glass of white wine. I need something to ease the nerves, but I also can’t risk having purple teeth in front of these people. After I get my glass, I lean against a marble column that looks like it was taken straight out of Italy and transported here. I take a couple of sips of my wine and look out at the people in the ballroom.
I notice that most of the women on the arms of the rich men here are rail thin. I make a point to stand up straight and suck in my stomach. I’ve gained a couple of pounds since getting this job. I can’t help it. I can finally afford to eat good food.
Then a weird feeling floods my body, like I’m being watched. Goosebumps break out all over my skin. My eyes search the sea of others until they land on familiar ones. They hold mine with such intensity that I have to look away for a moment and work up the courage to meet them again.
As I close the distance between us, he watches me. I realize my body knew exactly whose eyes were on me. It was reacting to this desire that I feel is growing all-consuming. Whoever he was talking with has left, leaving me and him alone.
The warmth of his hand finds my hip as he leans in. I’m not sure if he’s going to give me a hug, but I remain frozen, not able to move a muscle as I smell his cologne. I’m dizzy from the effects it’s having on me. Then I feel the slightest brush of soft lips on my cheek.
My eyes close of their own accord as I lean into him. Never in my life has my heartbeat this erratically in my chest. Blood rushes to my face, threatening to betray my attempt at being professional.
He pulls away and looks down at me. “You look … stunning.”
It was just a touch, a fleeting moment, but it leaves me feeling things I’ve never felt before.
“Thank you,” I manage to whisper back.
His hand moves to the small of my back. A back that is completely revealed due to how low-cut the dress is. I feel the second he realizes his hand is on my skin because he fumbles over his steps before he composes himself.
This night feels dangerous. Like a promise that our working relationship is about to become complicated.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we move through the crowd of people, his hand still on my back.
“Just going to get some fresh air. Also, I thought you might like to see the view,” he whispers in my ear, leaning down, his lips brushing against my skin.
Before I get completely lost in his touch, he opens the doors to the balcony, where the lights of the city take my breath away. If I thought LA from the rooftop this afternoon was a sight, this is something else.
It’s the palm trees that get me. It’s such a foreign concept to me to have them surrounding city buildings. It’s like a glittering tapestry, stretching all the way back to the horizon.
“Wow,” I whisper as we both lean our forearms against the marble railing. “It’s incredible.”
I smile as I look out at the view, not quite able to believe this is my life right now.
I steal a glance at Lincoln, who is watching me intently. “What?”
“The view has nothing on you,” he says as his finger comes up and brushes my cheek.
My breath catches. “Do you tell all your assistants that?”
I thought reminding him of who I was would pull him out of his trance, but he steps toward me, closing the distance between us—not that there was much distance.
“I don’t remember a single thing about any of my other assistants.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “But you would remember me?”
Before he can answer, the doors open.
“Mr. Monroe. Fifteen minutes until your speech,” a man with a headset says, sounding slightly panicked.
I wonder if he’s been looking for Lincoln. I shouldn’t be out here with him, getting swept away, when we’re here for business purposes.
Instead of sticking around to hear his speech, I race to my room as a wave of panic sets in. This isn’t good. I need to remember this man is not a good man. He has literally treated me like shit since the day I stepped foot in his office.
Now, just because I’m dressed up in some expensive clothing, he thinks he can make me give in to this … desire. Never.