Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
BIANCA
After an awkward good-bye this morning—a kiss-less good-bye which shouldn’t be so disappointing—Brody gave me a key to his place, and I drove down to the Jett Agency office in Boston. He’s in town today and texted me that he’ll be stopping in for a private meeting any minute.
Without a knock, my door swings open, and he walks into my office.
“Welcome back from Vegas. Let’s talk in my office.” He walks back out and tells Linda, the admin, to take messages if he gets any calls. “I’m forwarding all my calls to this office for the morning.”
I follow him into his barely used corner office. “You always take your calls,” I state the obvious as he closes the door behind me.
“This is important. I wanted to check in with you in person to see how you are. My wife suggested that pretending to be a newlywed, married to a famous playboy hockey player, may be stressful for you and that I shouldn’t take you for granted.
” He takes a breath, and I’m surprised he’s checking in, but not surprised that it was his wife’s idea.
“Seriously, Brooks, Mindy doesn’t know you like I do, and I told her you can handle anything, that you’re rock solid, but I promised, and since she’s not above calling you to check up on me, I figured I’d go along with her suggestion.
” He stops and waits, but I ponder what to say.
Thank you? I’m fine? Or maybe Yes, of course I’m stressed to the max, but last night’s sexathon with multiple big Os like I’ve never had before did a lot to take the edge off, thank you very much.
I might be smiling because he raises a brow at me.
“You’re okay, right? Just tell me everything’s fine, and we’ll move on to business.”
“I am fine. Tell Mindy I said thank you for asking.”
“I will. Don’t be a wiseass. Let’s talk about the Cavalaro contract and iron out the details.”
He takes a seat at the conference table and we both open laptops. I put on my glasses and feel… normal, in my element.
Predictably, it doesn’t take long before we’re interrupted by multiple phone calls that he must take. I knew the moratorium wouldn’t last because Jett believes in full service and our clients all appreciate it.
My face heats up as I think about last night—would that be considered part of my service? I question for a second whether I slept with Brody for business or—Don’t be ridiculous, Brooks.
Last night had nothing to do with business and everything to do with the chemistry between us. I wanted him. And he wanted me. That much is clear. How much and for how long are questions that pop into my head again, and since I don’t like the logical answers, I push them back down.
Jett sits at his desk, laughing and talking while I review a proposal from a local car dealership for Brody’s sponsorship. I make a note to call Martino at Cavalaro to confirm he’s not going to consider them a competitor.
Jett hangs up the desk phone and comes back to the conference table where I’m still sitting.
“I’m going to lunch with the Boston Brawlers management in a few. I’d invite you along, but I think you should get back to Portsmouth.” He lifts his wrist to examine his watch. “You’ll need to get home early to get ready for tonight’s game.” He grins.
“I’m not playing in the game, Jett.”
“No, but you’re playing the wife of the star player and you’ll be photographed, no doubt, so you need to look your best.” He looks me over and I hold steady in a monumental effort not to shrink into my seat. I’m wearing the same Goodwill pin-striped suit for the third time in five days. Shit.
“Use the company credit card to buy yourself some new clothes—not from Goodwill.”
I cringe inwardly. “About the company credit card.” I’ve been putting off the discussion long enough. I have to tell him now while we’re on the subject.
“What about it?”
“I charged quite a few things over the weekend that aren’t standard expenses.” I clear my throat and then rush my words before he has a chance to get upset. “Of course, I’m fully prepared to pay the agency back for anything you think is out of line.”
“What kind of things?”
“Three gold wedding bands.”
His eyebrows go up. “Three?”
I remind him about the chorus girl and tell him about all the extra tips for Bigelow while I’m at it. There’s a lot of backstory I need to fill in to make sense of it.
“In fact, Bigelow is expecting an additional payment to make up for his time while he wasn’t on the job. I promised him I’d get it to him by the end of the week.”
I watch Jett pace around the room, studying the carpet. Which is a shame because the view of Boston Harbor out the window is beautiful. That’s where I stare while I test how long I can hold my breath waiting for an answer, waiting to find out whether I’m broke—or broker than before.
“Write up an expense report with the full explanation—for my eyes only—and I’ll review it.”
“Yes, sir.” Shit.
“Don’t worry, Brooks. I don’t see any reason the agency won’t cover it. The last thing I want to do is send a prized employee to the poorhouse. The worst thing that’ll happen is we take some of it out of your bonus at the end of the season.”
“Right.” I deflate with the idea of losing bonus money. But I only get the bonus if I’m still here at the end of the season. I don’t know when or how I’m going to tell him Brody only agreed to four weeks max. My chest tightens contemplating it, but I can only tackle one problem at a time.
“Why are you still sitting there? You have some shopping and a game to get to. Shoo.” He makes a swooping motion towards the door with his hands.
I’m not sure if Brody is back from practice or his doctor visit or whatever else he’s doing today.
I’m not sure he’s even playing, but I clasp my hands in mock prayer under the desk before I stand.
Closing my laptop and gathering my things, I try to figure out what to say to Jett to stay at the office longer.
“He might be napping. I don’t want to disturb him.” The truth is I’m afraid to spend too much time with him, but I can’t say that. I don’t even know what I’m afraid of. Liar.
“Get over it. You’re married now.”
“Don’t joke about that. It’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not. It’s big money. I have two potential sponsors calling me today to arrange meetings about possible deals. And that’s before I do any outreach of my own. This is a world-class publicity stunt we have going here, and don’t you forget it.”
“It’s going to end—”
“About that. Maybe you should stay married until next season. That’ll give us more time for you to bask in the attention and for us to arrange as many sponsorship deals as possible.”
Stay married? My tummy flutters with nerves and anticipation and horrible fear all at once. “The attention will die down long before that, Jett.” Trying not to appear too hopeful, I give him a reasonable look. “When it does, we’ll make a quiet announcement and go back to living our lives.”
Jett chuckles. It’s one of those cynical sounds like he thinks life is a constant bad joke.
“Quiet? Not a chance of that happening, Brooks. People love disasters—especially disastrous celebrity marriages.” He grins like he’s one of those people.
Normally I go along with the attitude, adopting it as the way to do business, believing everyone is out to get you and always having a plan B or C because things will go wrong. After all, he’s the boss, and he’s very successful, and I’m here to learn, right?
Today it feels wrong. The cynicism bothers me, like an ache deep in my gut.
I shake it off.
He says, “You end this thing too soon, and it will definitely get blown up as a disaster.”
“So you want me to stay married, what? Is ten years long enough?”
“Go.” He scowls, shooing me again with his hands. “I told you to stop being a wiseass,” he grumbles.
Feeling unsettled, I grab my coat and leave. I survive the drive home by listening to a romance audiobook to keep my mind occupied. It’s the only thing that works to keep me de-stressed. Although multiple orgasms courtesy of Brody worked like a miracle last night.
Stop it. No more wild sex. This is business. I can’t let it get personal—or any more personal than it already is.
As I pull into the garage at Brody’s condo, I remember I was supposed to go shopping. I’ll have to find a shop in walking distance. As I tap my credit card, the the parking garage card reader flashes red, telling me the credit card is no good. Shit.
Tears threaten until I remember I have permission to use the agency card for clothes. I smile and find a parking spot on the street near a shop where I’ve always wanted to buy something.
This is my chance while I still have my job. A small pinch of guilt stops me on the sidewalk, but damn it. I’ve earned this, haven’t I? Besides, I’m only following Jett’s instructions.
When he fires me, at least I’ll finally be well-dressed if homeless, jobless, and penniless.
As expected, this is one of those clothes shops where the clerks look better than I do, and they know everything there is to know about looking good.
“Hi, I’m Giselle. I’d love to help you find whatever you need.”
Letting out a breath, I hand myself over to the young, impeccable woman, and she finds me a suit—I limit myself to one because what if I don’t get fired for messing up this world-class publicity stunt—somehow?
—and a dress to wear out, plus I let her talk me into one more outfit, the kind I would never dare to wear.
Giselle is very convincing when she insists it looks exceptional, that it gives me the wow factor, the kind of head-turning appeal that catches everyone in the room’s attention.
The three-piece top, pants, and skirt combo is jewel green wool jersey and flows magically around me, the monochrome coloring making me look taller.
To finish the look, Giselle gives me a discount on a matching pair of green suede heeled boots that go over my knees.