26. Salinger
26
SALINGER
T he next day, a gaggle of interns is gathered in one of the conference rooms when I get done talking with Dara about the Harborview Heights project. Mandy is in the middle of them, giving some sort of lecture on how to use a Crock-Pot.
“It really is the best barbecue-chicken recipe. Whenever I make it, everyone in my apartment building always stops to ask me what that delicious smell is,” she’s telling them.
“It’s a sacrilege to cook barbecue in a Crock-Pot,” I announce.
Several of the interns scream when they notice me in the doorway.
“Seriously?” Mandy glares at me. “Salinger, they’re on their break.”
“A break?” I cross my arms.
“This is the adulting club. They’re learning life skills,” Mandy says primly.
“ You are teaching them how to adult? Your life is a disaster.”
“Someone needs to teach them how to cook. ‘Be the change you want to see in the world.’ You don’t want any of these boys to get a girlfriend and force her to be their mom, do you?”
“No, what you want to do,” I tell the interns, “is make a shit ton of money so you can hire a private chef, and you’re not going to get that kind of money by tossing raw chicken and store-brand barbecue sauce into a Crock-Pot.”
“I have gotten you plenty of investing information by taking a nice home-cooked meal to someone. Serve this chicken, dish it with some homemade potato salad.” She addresses the interns, who are no longer listening but are instead quivering in fear. “Also, some chocolate-fudge cake. That will be the next club lesson.”
The interns cower as I lean on the doorframe.
“Ugh, fine,” she says. “Salinger, get away from the door so they can leave.”
One kid is slowly sidling around the table.
I pin him with my gaze. “You’re still here, donut boy?”
He dives for the door.
Once we’re alone, I inspect Mandy. She doesn’t look as if she’s been harmed. In fact, she looks amazing.
Mandy smooths her palms over her dress. It’s dark blue and structured, and it hugs her curves. It’s got this little cutout right at her cleavage. Her hair frames her face softly. She looks kissable and fuckable.
I tear my eyes away from her chest. “Why”—my voice sounds harsh to my ears—“are you dressed up?”
Her brown eyes widen. She fusses with her collar. I’ve seen women do that move on purpose. Usually, it also involves lots of hands over their chest. But Mandy’s just doing it absently. With her cherry-red lipstick, in that dress with the little oval cutout at the line of her cleavage, it’s like she’s just begging me to put my cock there and fuck her tits right here on the conference table in front of everyone.
“I wanted to look nice for…” She hesitates.
I pounce. “Tell me. It’s the stalker, isn’t it? Something’s happened.” My hands are at her waist.
“No,” she stammers.
“What?” The length of her body is pressed against mine.
“Aaron is coming over,” she gasps out.
The gears of my brain grind to a halt. “Aaron? You dressed up for Aaron fucking Richmond?”
She gives me a weak smile. “He’s an important partner on the port project.”
“Not that important,” I grumble.
Her phone chimes on the table next to her. She blanches.
Got him.
She reaches for it. I’m faster.
“Give it back,” Mandy demands.
I hold it above my head while she jumps around, trying to grab it. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
“No. Give it back—that’s not yours.”
She grabs onto my arm while I swipe at the text message that’s appeared on the lock screen.
Lauren: You should just sell your virginity online.
I’m so shocked that I let her wrestle the phone out of my hand. “You’re a virgin?”
“No, I’m not a virgin,” she hisses, lowering her voice. “Gosh, Salinger. Why are you so obsessed with my private life?”
She grabs her tablet and hurries out of the conference room.
I follow her to the stairwell, admiring the view as she walks up the steps in front of me, the curve of her legs above the black heels, the hourglass figure. There’s a cutout at the back of the dress, too, above her shoulder blades. I want to press my mouth to it.
“I’m not obsessed with you. I’m simply appalled that you have no sense of self-preservation. You’re driving a hunk of junk that’s literally disintegrating around you, and you refuse all of my offers for protection in some misguided belief that crystals and that corgi are going to protect you.”
She pauses at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing.
I stand on the step right below her, too close to be appropriate for a CEO and his assistant, but I’d already carried her into my home and also saw her hard pink nipples through one of my wet T-shirts, so aren’t we beyond that at this point?
“You know,” she says, low and slow, just like I want to fuck her, “if you spent this energy on the port contract, you might have it by now.” She quickly rushes out of the stairwell.
“There they are,” Jess announces as we approach my office.
Aaron’s standing by Mandy’s desk. The insurance COO’s eyes slide right down Mandy’s dress and back up to her face.
She gives him a shy smile. “Hi, Aaron—nice to see you again. ”
“Likewise.”
Asshole.
I grab his arm. “Stop distracting my assistant. Let’s go.” I lean over Mandy. “Don’t,” I warn her in a low voice, “leave here without me.”
The restaurant is crowded, but we have a private room.
“So, you like Seattle so much, you extended your stay.”
Aaron’s face is neutral. “I’m concerned about this port contract.”
“You don’t have to take the contract,” I remind him, sitting across from him at the table. I’m not begging anyone for anything.
“Who else are you going to bring in?” He spreads his hands.
I scowl.
“I was going to ask Mandy her thoughts, but apparently she’s busy.” Aaron is not looking at me but at the drink menu. “Maybe I’ll take her out tomorrow to discuss.”
This motherfucker.
Aaron continues. “Did you know she had a hangover-cure basket sent to my hotel room on Saturday?”
“A what?” I snap.
“Bacon, egg, and cheese bagels, piping hot. Advil. Ginger ale. She’s quite something. She has the personal touch.” Aaron smirks. “Your fucking face. For someone who’s fake-dating his assistant, you sure are bent out of shape that she’s sending me personalized gifts.”
I weigh the pros and cons of punching him in the face and killing the port contract or just nodding, smiling, and not ruining the biggest deal of my life .
Fuck it, I’m probably not getting that port contract, anyway. Aaron hisses when I reach across the table and grab his collar.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I say. “I don’t want you anywhere near her. Don’t talk to her. Definitely don’t take her out to dinner.”
Aaron is unshaken. Though both of us have had shitty fathers, his dad makes mine look like the love child of Princess Diana and Gandhi.
He slaps me lightly on the side of my face. “You fucking piece of shit, you like her.” He huffs out a laugh as I release him. “You’re such a cliché—billionaire falls in love with his assistant. I don’t think they even bother to make movies like that anymore.”
I scowl at him. “She’s age appropriate.”
“And manages to handle herself in corporate situations. It’s impressive. I wonder how she’d feel about potentially relocating to the East Coast.”
“Don’t,” I warn. “Where the hell is the waiter? I need a drink.”
“I’ll say.”
The door opens, and a server brings in two scotches. I drain mine then Aaron’s before he can take a sip.
“Two more?” The waiter’s tone is perfectly neutral.
“Keep it coming,” I say. “It’s going to be that kind of lunch.”
Aaron’s studying me with those unyielding green eyes. With the way he grew up as a child, he’s used to being hypersensitive to people’s micro behaviors. Not doing so could have resulted being on the receiving end of violence or starvation. That skill was further honed in insurance, where you can save hundreds of millions of dollars by ferreting out when people are lying or withholding part of the truth.
Aaron’s the best. And I basically just did the equivalent of letting him read my diary.
“Why do you care so much about her?” Aaron digs.
“I don’t.”
“She’s involved in this deal—I need to know.”
“Like I said, forget the deal.”
“Our esteemed CEO thinks this would be a potentially lucrative deal, especially since we had to pay out after the Svensson Investment debacle that you caused.”
“Worth it.”
“Besides,” Aaron adds, “Wolf’s thinking about purchasing a French insurance company to make more inroads for large international projects. We’ve seen some interest.”
“From your brother, you mean.”
Now it’s Aaron’s turn to be annoyed. “You can’t seriously want Grayson in the deal.” He scowls.
“Depends on the cut I get from the tidal-energy generation. Does he structure his deals to pay out capital costs first?”
“I think he’ll have to, if it’s taxpayer money.”
“I don’t know if that’s how they did the Orlando project.” I blink at him.
Aaron stares at me mulishly. “Fine, I’ll call him.”
The lunch turns into a three-hour video meeting with Grayson Richmond, much of it taken up by Aaron and his older half brother sniping at each other.
I don’t mean to be gone that long, and I seriously regret it when I get back to the office and Mandy isn’t at her desk. Her dog and her purse are gone.
“Where is Mandy? ”
Jess puts her hand over the phone receiver. “She said she had a meeting.”
“How long has she been gone?”
Jess shrugs. She’s covering for her friend. Of course. As if I’m the enemy here.
“I bet she left right after I did,” I say.
“Yeah, I guess it’s been a few hours. I’m sure she’ll be back soon. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“No. Just call me if she comes back.” I throw my briefcase on my desk then head back to the elevators.
I have to find her.