Chapter 5
Five
Zoey
M y phone beeps as soon as I slip on my shoes.
Nash: I’ll be there in a minute. Do you want me to come up and get you?
I shake my head; you have to give it to him for persistence. He isn’t going to let up, which gives me stomach flutters and then scares the shit out of me.
Me: I’ll be waiting for you.
I smirk right before I send the next one.
Me: Downstairs in the lobby.
I press send and take one last look at myself before heading to the lobby. I’m wearing cream-colored shorts, but they are so flowy they look like a skirt, sitting mid-thigh, with a long-sleeved silk top that has a flower print all over it. The gold strappy chunky-heeled sandals complete the look. I thought about leaving my hair down, but it's a mess this morning after coming home last night and crashing after I took a shower. So I pinned it up in a ponytail and then curled the ends for a beachy look.
I grab my light green purse and the black bag that holds my computer before grabbing the key to the door and making my way down. I press the elevator button and wait for the doors to open. The minute I step in, I swear a cold shiver runs through me. I press L and wait for the doors to close. I look down at my feet as I wait for the doors to open, and the minute they do, I see him.
The glass door shows me that he’s parked right at the door. He’s standing out by the passenger door with his phone in his hand. I watch him as I walk to him, his black suit tailored to his body. A body that I know you can bounce a quarter off because he’s so fit, it’s mouthwatering. His white shirt shows you a bit of his throat, and his black hair looks like he just ran his hands through it. I swear if I wasn’t so stubborn about my rule of not getting involved with a client, I would walk up to him and grab him by his lapels and pull him to me while I shoved my tongue down his throat. I shake my head to get rid of the picture of making out with him at eight in the morning.
He must sense someone watches him because his head shoots up, and his smile comes out right away. He steps forward to open the door for me. “Good morning,” he greets cheerfully.
“Good morning,” I say, stepping out into the warm air.
“Did you find everything you needed?” he asks, and I stop beside the car to look at him.
“The condo was fully stocked.” I tilt my head to the side. “Right down to my favorite cookies and chips.”
“I just wanted you to feel like you’re home,” he says, and all I can do is shake my head in disbelief as he pulls open the passenger side door for me to get in. I slide into the seat and look over at him putting his hand on the roof of the car and leaning in. “I picked you up a matcha,” he tells me right before he closes the door.
I look over at the cupholder and see there are two cups there, one with a straw in it and the other with a cover. I turn in my seat, waiting for him to get in. “You got me matcha?”
“I did,” he confirms, reaching for his seat belt. “I got it iced and hot, not sure which you wanted.”
“Um,” I say baffled, “I can do either. Which one do you prefer?”
He starts the car. “Of matcha?” I nod. “I prefer it away from me and never in my mouth.”
I can’t help but put my head back and laugh. “It’s not that bad,” I say, picking up the hot one first. “It’s an acquired taste.”
“Yes, if your taste is eating grass,” he deadpans, his face making a grimace that my nieces and nephews do when they taste something that isn’t to their liking. “It’s so gross.”
“It’s delicious,” I assure him, taking a sip. “Mmm, so good.”
“Okay, if we are going to do the rules and shit,” Nash starts, pulling away from the building, “rule number one to you, no moaning in my vicinity.” My eyes open as I roll my lips. “That might be my only rule,” he continues. “No ‘oh, that’s so good. Oh, I like that. Oh, do that again, Nash.’” At the last one, I can’t help but laugh until my stomach hurts.
“Noted,” I return when he pulls into the parking lot. “I promise to never moan around you.”
“Unless,” he says, turning off the car, “you are okay with moaning my name, and then all your rules will be broken.”
“I am not,” I tell him, as if sitting across from him last night was easy. With him staring at me with his blue eyes and cocky grin, for once in my life, I wanted to say fuck all the rules and be like, let’s do this. I mean, I would never even think of doing this if Josh and I were solid. Maybe this is a sign that Josh isn’t the one for me. Maybe, just maybe, this is the sign I was looking for. I mean, not a sign I should get involved with Nash, but a sign Josh isn’t the one for me.
“Well, you’ll tell me if you change your mind?” Nash asks as he opens up his door.
“You’ll be the first one to know,” I assure him, putting my purse and black bag over my shoulder and getting out with both matchas in my hand.
“Here, give me one of those.” He holds out his hand, taking the hot cup from my hand. “Trust me, I’ll give it right back once we get into the office.”
I follow him to the glass door as he holds it open for me, and I step in. I see the receptionist smile when she sees it’s Nash. “Good morning again,” she tells Nash and then looks over at me. “You must be Zoey.” I smile at her. “I’m Lucille, but you can call me Lulu.”
“Nice to meet you, Lulu,” I say.
“This way.” Nash directs me as he walks to the right-hand side of the receptionist. “We can put your things down in the conference room, and then I can take you around and introduce you.”
“Um,” I say when he walks into the conference room that has a projector at the far end of the wall, facing the long table that has about sixteen chairs. “What did she mean good morning again?” I ask when I put the matcha down first and then my bags in an empty chair in front of it.
“I came to work and then left to come and get you.” This. Fucking. Man. He must see I’m about to say something. “Hey, I know your dad and your uncles. They would kick my ass if I let you take an Uber by yourself in a strange city.”
“You came to work,” I ask him, folding my hands over my chest, “and then left to get me so the men in my family wouldn’t kick your ass?”
“Correct,” he confirms right before he puts down the hot matcha.
“And you bought me matcha.” I point at them on the table.
“Unfortunately, that’s what you like.” He shrugs.
“You’re something else, Mr. Griffin.”
“Rule number two, you can’t call me that, ever.” He takes off his jacket and tosses it on one of the chairs before he puts his hands on his hips. My eyes drop to his black Tom Ford belt before flying back to his face. “Unless…”
I hold up my hand. “I don’t want to hear what your unless is,” I practically snap, “and you are literally ruining all the rules.”
“How am I doing that?”
“You are flirting with me right now.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not flirting with you. At least, I don’t think I am.”
“Well, you are.”
“Really?” He tries to hide his smile, but what starts as a smirk quickly turns into a full-blown smile. “Interesting.”
“What is?” I ask, my interest piqued.
“If you think that’s flirting, then the guy you’re with is doing it wrong.”
A knock on the door has me about to jump out of my shoes. A woman pokes her head in. “Found you.” She walks in, swaying her hips left to right in a maroon skirt with a champagne silk shirt. Her black hair is perfectly styled and curled at the ends. “You must be the great Zoey.” She comes to me first, extending her hand. “I’m Kailyn.” I reach out to shake her hand. “Nash’s assistant.”
“Nice to meet you.” I smile.
“I hope you got in all right and settled in.”
“I did, thank you,” I say as she looks over at Nash with literal hearts in her eyes. Except he has no idea. He’s totally oblivious to it all.
“I have cleared your schedule for the next couple of days,” she tells him. “I also just confirmed your attendance at the Bankers Summit in Vegas from Thursday until Sunday.”
“Sounds good,” he says to her. “I think I have all my travel schedule done for after.” He looks at her, then looks back at me. “Let me show you the rest of the office.”
Kailyn walks out of the conference room before us, but Nash waits for me to be at his side before he extends his hand to the other side of the hallway. “This is my office.” He walks toward the left side of the office, right across from the conference room. It’s the first office when you walk in from the waiting area.
“Is this where the magic happens?” I ask, stepping into the room. It’s right then I notice I fucked up in my words.
“Not all the magic,” he quickly answers me. “That magic isn’t ever performed here.”
“I walked right into that one,” I mumble, then turn to him. “I meant all the brainstorming.”
“Now, who’s flirting with who?” He winks at me before he walks out of the office and down the hallway, and I love this concept right away. “On one side of the office are the individual offices.” He points to the right. “In the middle area are all the assistants.” I see four desks lined up, one right after the other, but with enough space between for privacy. “Then this,” he continues and walks over to the left side, “is my favorite part that I just brought into the office.” He proudly states, “It’s a work-share space.” Four desks are connected in the middle and then two desks at the end. “It can be lonely working all alone in the office, so I wanted them to be able to shoot off ideas and stuff here without it being stuffy.”
“This is amazing.” I look around and see pictures of the office workers all lined up. Some pictures are from the office, while a couple of the pictures look like they were taken outside at a picnic or something. “Every second month, we have team building. We either go bowling, take a cooking course, or just plain have a picnic.”
“It must be great for the morale around here,” I say, impressed when one of the assistants walks in and spots Nash. He holds up his hand to say good morning as he rushes to his desk to answer a call.
“I realized a long time ago that people are more encouraged to work with you when you listen to them.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “Who wants to come to work and be miserable?”
“Not many big enterprises think like that,” I say.
“Well, what can I say? I’m one in a million.” He turns while he hides his smile. “In the back is the bathroom and kitchen area.” He points all the way to the end. “Shall we get to work?”
I clap my hands. “Let’s.” I follow him back toward the conference room as people start trickling in. I notice they all stop and talk to him. He introduces me to everyone, and by the time we get back to the conference room, I’m fully invested in him and his company.
I pull out the chair, then grab my laptop and put my cell phone right next to me. I open the laptop, waiting for it to start, and look up, seeing he’s walking back into the office with a folder in his hand. “I have this,” he says, pulling out the chair beside me and sitting down next to me, “it’s just little press notes that have been made over the years.” He hands it to me, and I open it up, seeing the news clipping. “My mother sent that to me. She said it was before the web days.”
I laugh at that. “So what’s the summit?” I ask.
“It’s lending and risk management professionals from California. It features the following tracks: regulatory compliance, risk management, lenders and chief credit officers, and finance. Everything that sounds like a good time.” He laughs as he leans back in his chair. “Actually, you should think of coming with me. It would be a great place to see how I work and what we stand for.”
I’m about to answer him when my phone buzzes from beside me. I look down and the only thing I can see is it’s from Josh.
I ignore it and turn back to Nash. “I’m one of the speakers, so you can see how popular I am.” He puts his crossed hands on his stomach. “You’ll get an inside look at the West Coast section of the Cottrell Group.”
My phone buzzes again, and this time, I see the message.
Josh: Did you really take off to LA without telling me?
The fucking nerve of this guy. It’s been four fucking days since I gave him the ultimatum, and the first text he sends me is about me not being in New York. No doubt he saw my Instagram post this morning of the sunset with the caption, “Waking up in LA.”
I see Nash’s eyes on the phone at the same time as I turn the phone over. “You can get that.” My eyes fly to his. “I don’t mind.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, ignoring the buzz again. “He can wait for once.”
“He?” Nash says. “Who is he?”
“Josh is my boyfriend,” I reply, but then I quickly rephrase. “Was my boyfriend.” Nash’s eyebrows go up. “It’s a bit complicated.”
“Sounds like it,” he mumbles, then taps his finger on the conference table. “So what do you think? Would you like to come with me?”
I think of all the reasons I shouldn’t go to Vegas with Nash. I think about how I’m going on vacation with my family next week, and I need to get home. I think of the fact I should be as far from Josh as I can possibly be, and the word comes out almost in a shout. “Sure.”