Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dimos
I’ve dug quite a hole for myself. I didn’t intend to completely blow shit out of the water the way I did.
I planned to come in here and gradually work my questions into the conversation in a way that wasn’t clearly accusatory.
When the elevator doors opened and I saw her again, I lost it.
The memories of that night came back to me.
The agony I felt when I woke up and realized she was gone was back with a vengeance.
I was excited and ready for this move after deciding it was time.
When I woke up on Tuesday, though, the coincidence of it all hit me like a Mack truck.
I flew out of bed and ran straight into the bathroom, emptying my stomach of what little was in it.
It couldn’t be as simple as fate. It was happening again, but this time I was going to be one step ahead of her.
“I don’t know if that’s something I can do,” she answers, breaking my heart. “I don’t know if I can forgive and forget how easily you went off on me without even attempting to have an adult conversation first.”
“I meant to. That’s why I came here. That’s why I packed up my entire life and moved to New York.
Because I liked the idea that a relationship between us was possible.
When those doors opened and I first saw you, I wanted to let it all go.
I didn’t want to believe you could be the same as her.
But the closer I got to you, the more I was reminded of what happened in the past. The angrier I became. And the quicker I lost control.”
I really wanted to bend her over the desk and angry fuck the answers I needed out of her, but it’s probably best I keep that to myself.
“I haven’t let my guard down around anyone since then. I haven’t wanted to be with anyone until I saw you sitting across the pool in Greece.”
“You can’t sweet-talk your way out of this.”
“I know, I’m just trying to tell the truth.”
“I won’t sleep with my boss,” she insists.
“And I don’t want to sleep with my assistant ever again.”
“So where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want you to quit. If you promise not to be a blackmailing whore, I promise not to be an arrogant asshole.” I smile, letting her know I was joking, but it’s not returned.
“If you don’t want me to quit, then I guess you’d rather have me as an assistant than a girlfriend.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth, but I think we have a prime opportunity to get to know one another. We’d get to spend more time together this way.”
“That’s a pretty big reach. You realize that, don’t you?” Her smirk tells me she’s fighting hard to keep the smile from her face.
“I know,” I admit.
“I don’t know what I want to do. A lot has happened in such a short period of time. We’ve, essentially, only known one another for a week—a day, really—and I feel like we’ve gone through the entire gamut of emotions. I need to sort through them all.”
“I understand,” I tell her.
“Is there anything else you feel I should know about you before making my decision?”
Fuck.
“No,” I tell her.
The fact that I cheated on my ex-wife—or that I have an ex-wife to begin with—has nothing to do with this. Would telling her help her make a decision? Maybe. But I don’t know if she would be won over by my honesty, or if it would only push her further away.
“I’m going to take the rest of the day off. All your meetings were rescheduled, per your email, so it should be a quiet afternoon for you.”
“I’m still on vacation. How about you take the afternoon off—paid—and have lunch with me?”
“I already ate lunch. But thank you for the paid time off.”
With that, she stands from her seat and marches back toward her desk.
“Carley?”
She turns and looks at me but doesn’t speak. I stand and meet her in the doorway of my office.
“You have until Monday to decide. I’ll see you then.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, and I wait for her to respond with a snide remark that I know will make my dick hard.
Surprisingly, she only responds with a fake smile before strolling across the lobby to the elevator.
Once the doors close, I pull out my cell phone and call downstairs to Izaak, my driver.
“Yes, sir,” he answers.
“A girl in a cream-colored skirt and black button up blouse will be exiting the building any minute.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Follow her, but don’t get out of the car.”
“Yes, sir.”
Izaak is very tall and very noticeable. I don’t need Carley catching on to someone tailing her.
He’s not a man of many words, but he does as he’s asked, and he’s loyal as fuck.
He follows me wherever I go. I believed Carley when she said she wasn’t out to get me, but I’d like to keep tabs on her while she’s deciding what she wants to do.
I was serious when I said I wasn’t going to let her get away twice.
I want Carley, and I won’t take no for an answer.
* * *
It wasn’t long before I got my first report from Izaak.
Carley had hailed a cab, which dropped her off at her apartment.
I told him to wait nearby and see if she leaves to go anywhere.
That was almost seven hours ago. Since then, they’ve left the apartment and gone for dinner somewhere on Columbus Avenue, which is where they’ve been for the past hour and a half.
I wanted to join him in the stakeout, but I decided to wait it out at my penthouse in the Financial District instead.
I still have a lot of unpacking to do, and it will help keep my mind off what she may be doing or thinking.
The walk from the office to my building was nice. I forgot how much I like the city. It’s no Hermosa Beach, but Hermosa Beach doesn’t have Carley.
Neither do you.
Was I completely crazy to make the move out here not knowing if things were going to work out?
No. I don’t want to second guess my decision. I’ve rarely done it in the past, and my intuition has a fairly good track record.
Except with women.
I finish hanging the shirt I’m holding and head to the study for a glass of whiskey. A tall glass of whiskey. I take a sizeable swig as I pull my phone from my pocket and check Izaak’s location.
Again.
This time, my limo is still on Columbus, but he’s no longer parked.
Where is she headed?
Izaak knows to call me when they get wherever it is they’re going. So I’ll wait as patiently as I can until I hear from him.
I take my drink back into my room and continue emptying my suitcases.
The penthouse came fully furnished, but I hired a staging company to bring in some additional pieces that were more my taste.
My Hermosa house is all light wood with teal and navy accents, courtesy of Emma.
I wanted my penthouse to have an entirely different feel, so I ordered several pieces of furniture in black or gray leather.
There is something I find soothing about hanging and folding my clothes and putting everything away just right. Call it OCD or whatever you want to call it. But that, and this whiskey, are the only two things keeping me from going after Carley and forcing her to make a decision right now.
Best case scenario, she shows up for work on Monday and tells me she’s forgiven me and is ready to move forward.
That she wants to get to know me better and would like the chance to do so by working for me.
Once we know if we’re ready for a relationship, she can find a new job somewhere.
Hell, I’ll even help her. I’m sure Ez would hire her in a heartbeat.
Worst case scenario, she doesn’t show up. Doesn’t call. Doesn’t write. Strips every memory of me from her mind and moves on. A new job. A new man. A new life that doesn’t include me in it.
That’s not going to work for me.
I check my watch and wonder if they’re headed home from dinner. It’s ten o’clock. Apparently, that’s dinner hour in New York City time. As if he knew I was thinking about them, I get a call from Izaak right then.
“Yeah?”
“They were just dropped off at the SMR nightclub.”
Fuck.
“Okay, thanks.”
As I end the call, I ball my hands into fists and squeeze.
A nightclub?
I haven’t been to one since I was in my early thirties, but I’m sure they haven’t changed much.
Crowded dance floor. Sweat soaked skin sliding across the people around you as you gyrate against your dance partner.
I can’t imagine Carley at a dance club. She seems too sophisticated for that type of venue.
But I would kill to see her on the dance floor. To watch her move her body the way she did as she straddled my lap on the sofa in my hotel room. To feel her skin against mine. To smell her on my clothes when the night is over.
I look at my watch one more time, though I don’t know why. It’s only been two minutes since the last time I checked. Taking a deep breath, I down the rest of my whiskey and change into the closest thing to club attire I own.
* * *
SMR isn’t too far from my penthouse, so I texted Izaak to come pick me up and take me there. I’ve been here for thirty minutes, and I still haven’t found Carley. There are so many fucking people. And they all look like jailbait.
I’m too fucking old for this shit. Why am I here?
The second I think the question, she comes into view.
Her.
Théa mou.
She’s why I’m here.
She’s sitting in the VIP area with a group of mostly girls and one guy. Thankfully, he’s lip-locked with Saylor and not paying attention to Carley. She looks incredible, as always, in a dress I can’t tell the color of because of the lights in this place.
But she looks sad. I watch her gaze over at Saylor and the guy she’s with. If I would’ve handled myself better today, she could be at my penthouse right now. We could have been the ones who went out to dinner. I could be the one sitting next to her on that sofa.
Suddenly, her eyes meet mine, and I duck my head into the crowd because I don’t want her to know I’m here.
I make my way to the bar. Giving it a few minutes before I chance a glance at her again, I signal a bartender and order a beer.
Then I find her once more across the room.
I watch as she laughs about something with Saylor just before lifting a shot glass into the air and downing it in one gulp.
Then the two of them make their way to the dance floor with the boy in tow.
Luckily, I have a pretty good spot where I am.
I can see her but also remain unseen. I watch as her and Saylor dance together, the boy swaying behind Saylor the entire time.
Briefly, I wonder if they just met tonight or if they’ve been an item for longer.
I seem to remember Saylor locking lips with several men throughout the course of the week in Greece.
The sight of Carley making eyes at someone across the dance floor pulls my attention quickly. Moving my head, I try to see around the crowd to find out who she’s looking at. And if they’re looking back at her.
The moment I see a tall guy approaching her, strutting across the dance floor, I know he’s the one she’s looking at. The one she’s invited over to dance with her. To rub her body against.
Fury rolls through me at the sight of it. I want to go over there and punch him right in the face. I want to throw her over my shoulder and into my car. Take her home with me and fuck her until I’m the only guy she wants to think about.
But I won’t do that to her. It takes every ounce of strength I have to stay put, drink my beer, and watch her.
With him.
A couple of songs later, she gestures toward the back of the club and leaves the guy alone on the dance floor while Saylor walks back to the sofa. Just before Carley walks down the back hallway, she looks behind her.
Is she looking for me?
No. She couldn’t have seen me earlier when I thought she did. Otherwise, I’m certain she would have confronted me. Walking along the perimeter of the room, I head to the same hallway she just went down and push the door to the ladies’ room open.
I don’t care who sees me.