Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Carley
EARLIER THAT DAY
I can’t remember a time when I was angrier than I am right now. Maybe when I found out the real reason my parents split was because my mom cheated on my dad and then hid me from him until I was sixteen. But this may even top that.
How dare Nick—ugh, Dimos—come at me with his accusations and insinuations. I get he had a shitty thing happen to him, but who the hell does he think he is, acting like that?
“Taxi,” I scream when I get to the curb outside of the building.
Thankfully, one comes fairly quickly, seeing as how it’s three o’clock in the afternoon and not five o’clock in the evening. As I get situated in the back seat, I pull out my cell phone and shoot off a message to Saylor.
Me
Get the wine out. Do I have a story for you!
Saylor
!!!What???
Me
This is not something I can tell you over text, girl. It’s going to require lots of alcohol and curse words. Maybe even a re-enactment.
Saylor
Uh-Oh. The Brassy Bigwig?
Saylor and her nicknames… I swear.
Me
Yes.
I think about my answer for a second. Is this more a Mr. Anastos problem or more of a Nick Evans problem?
Me
And also no.
Saylor
I’m confused.
Me
Same. Wine.
Me
And maybe ice cream, too.
Me
I’m in a cab now. Be home soon.
Saylor
See you then.
I’m home in record time, also due to the early hour in which I left work. I could get used to this. As I ride the elevator to the eighth floor, I laugh to myself. I still can’t believe everything that just happened.
“Un. Real.” I say to no one.
When the doors open, I walk to mine and Saylor’s apartment. No sooner do I unlock the door, Saylor is nearly attacking me, begging for details.
“What happened?”
“Wine first. And I need to change into some comfy clothes.”
“Ugh. Fine,” Saylor pouts.
I’m dressed in sweats and my Wharton College T-shirt and sitting on the sofa in no time as Saylor hands me a large glass of Pinot Grigio.
“Okay, you have the wine and your comfy clothes. Now spill.”
I take a large gulp before placing my glass on the coffee table and standing up.
“So I was sitting at my desk earlier, minding my own business, when the elevator dings. I was a little confused because Mr. Anastos is on vacation, and there was no reason for anyone to come up to his floor.”
“Uh-huh,” Saylor answers impatiently.
“I look up. And you’ll never guess who I lock eyes with.”
“Bradley Cooper.”
“What? No.” I roll my eyes at her.
“Oh. Um, I don’t know then.”
A huge, goofy grin breaks out on my face when I remember laying eyes on him again. I think about the excitement I felt that he was here to profess his undying love for me and whisk me away back to Greece.
“Nick.”
I watch as Saylor’s eyes grow wide with surprise.
“Shut. Up. Are you fucking serious right now?”
“Dead. Fucking. Serious. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“Oh lord.”
She takes another sip of wine at the same time as me.
“So I’m freaking out, I feel like I might faint, I can’t believe this is happening, right? He’s walking toward me, and I’m just waiting for him to crush me up against the wall and make out with me or something.”
“Oh my god, please tell me that’s what happened.”
“No. That didn’t happen. He didn’t even say hello. He just waltzed right past me like the fucking King of England and takes a seat behind Mr. Anastos’s desk.”
“What? Why?” Saylor’s eyebrows furrow with confusion.
I stare at her for a few moments as I grab my glass off the table again. Cocking my eyebrow as I take a sip, a realization hits her.
“No. Fucking. Way,” she gasps in shock.
“Yup.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit.”
“I know. But wait, there’s more. He tells me to take a seat so we can ‘go over my probationary period review’ as though it’s a normal day. As though the man I had a crazy night of redonkulous sex with didn’t just walk through the door after a month of no contact.”
Saylor’s only response is a series of rapid blinking. It’s incredibly rare to shock Saylor speechless.
“Then he starts asking me the most absurd questions.”
“Like what?”
“Like, did I know who he was before we met in Greece? Why did I start working for Okeanós? And—wait for it—did I accept my position with the intention of seducing and blackmailing him?”
If I thought she was speechless before, I don’t know what to call the face she’s making right now.
“That motherfucker!”
I lean over and pick up my glass again, downing the rest of it. Saylor doesn’t skip a beat and fills it again in seconds flat.
“So what did you say?”
“I told him I’ve never been so insulted before. And then I told him to fuck off.”
“Good for you!”
“I told him I’d thought my mistake was leaving without saying goodbye, when in actuality it was crawling into bed with him in the first place. Then I stormed out.”
“Fuck yeah! I’m so proud of you. Man, I would have loved to see the look on his face when you walked out.”
I try to avoid her eyes as I take another sip of wine.
“What else happened?” She narrows her eyes at me.
Taking my wine glass with me, I sit with my legs folded underneath me on the sofa again.
“When I walked out, he followed me. He wrapped me in his arms and told me he was sorry. He said that’s not how he meant for the meeting to go, and he asked me not to leave.”
“But then you left anyway, right?”
“Not right away. I sat and listened to his sob story about why he’s been acting like a fucking asshole.”
“Oh, right. And you actually believe him?”
“Yeah, I kind of do. It’s really messed up, Say. He slept with his former assistant—something he said he greatly regrets—and she turned around and blackmailed him for a lot of money. She had pictures of them, and apparently, an audio recording with some pretty incriminating stuff on it.”
“Okay, yeah, I get that’s messed up. But that’s no reason to treat you the way he did.”
“I know, and I told him so. He asked me if we could start over, but I told him I wasn’t sure it would be possible. I made it clear that I would not be sleeping with him if he was my boss. He agreed, obviously.”
“So … where does that leave things?”
“I told him I needed to think about it. He agreed, but as I started walking away …” I take another sip of wine because I’m about to get mad all over again. “He told me I have the weekend to decide, but then he said ‘I’ll see you Monday’ as though he knows I’m going to come crawling back to him.”
I’m fuming.
“How dare he drop this bomb on me. Telling me I have such a limited time to think about it and then basically making my decision for me as though I don’t know what’s best for myself.”
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.” Saylor excitedly and animatedly holds her hands in the air, as though stopping this moment in time.
Oh, I don’t like the sound of that.
“We’re going to call in an emergency to Steffi at La Beauté Naturelle and have her come here. You’re going to have your hair and nails done, then we’re going out for a night on the town.”
“I really don’t—”
“No!” Saylor yells at me. “You don’t get to decide. You need to just let loose, Carley. Forget about that asshole.”
If one more person tells me what I need today … I take another large sip of wine.
“Let me work some magic. I might even be able to grab a table at Vine.”
She squeals and jumps off the sofa, leaving me alone with my wine and my thoughts.
Let’s take away the fact that Dimos basically told me what I was going to do, completely disregarding my own feelings. That leaves me with his proposal of working for him while we get to know one another.
It’s not the most conventional courtship I’ve ever had, but our relationship didn’t start down a conventional path anyway.
On the plus side, he still wants to be with me.
I could see it in his eyes when he first got off the elevator.
I could feel it in his touch when he wrapped his arms around me.
And I could hear it in his voice when he told me he was ‘so fucking sorry.’
He moved across the country because he thought something between us could work.
Do I give him another chance?
I shouldn’t.
On the other hand, I’ve been whining like a baby—and aching for his touch—for weeks.
I’ve dreamt about finding him. Now that I have, and he’s the polar opposite of the person I fell for in Greece, I realize my fantasies over the last month were solely based on only one facet of many that make up Dimos Anastos.
Do I want to stick around to find out if any of his other facets are as bad as—or worse—than the one I saw today?
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.
I’m scared he’s going to turn out to be a horrible person. I’m scared he’s going to break my heart. I’m scared to walk away, never knowing what could have been if I’d only given him another chance.
I’m scared of losing myself. I’m scared of finding myself.
But mostly, I’m scared of living day-to-day, never feeling the passion he ignited inside of me ever again.
* * *
Okay, I have to hand it to Saylor. She may have been right. I feel like a fucking queen tonight. Steffi worked magic only she can perform. My hair and nails look incredible, and the dress Saylor had delivered—last minute from Bergdorf’s—is stunning.
I don’t know how she pulls things together like this all the time, but she doesn’t get hounded by bars, clubs, restaurants, designers, celebrities, and the like, who pay her to show up at their events, for no reason. This girl knows every in and out of the New York City social scene.
After we finished primping and getting gussied up, it was time for dinner at Vine, the biggest up-and-coming restaurant in the city. With a waitlist two-months long, I don’t even know what Saylor had to do or say to get us in there.
But I was totally okay with whatever it was.
We finish the bottle of Moet & Chandon Imperial just as our driver pulls the limo alongside the curb in front of SMR. I’ll admit, I’ve had more to drink than I usually do, but Saylor keeps pouring me more. She’s been right about every other aspect of this evening, so bottoms up.
Ren is waiting outside for us when we pull up, and Saylor runs to him. They’re lip-locked in no time, and a part of me thinks our fun night has reached its peak. I didn’t know he was coming out with us tonight. I thought it was just going to be the two of us.
I don’t let myself wallow in disappointment for long. As soon as they break their kiss, he awkwardly waves to me, and the bouncer lets us through. I secretly smile at the sound of groans from the crowd who have been waiting to get in for hours, I’m sure.
The hostess leads us to the VIP section as soon as she sees Saylor.
She presses the button on the radio in her ear as she walks, speaking to whoever is on the other end.
When we get to the VIP area, our cocktail waitress meets us at the sofa in the back where we’ll be sitting with a bottle of Absolut Pinstripe Black.
I’ve never had it. I don’t think I’d be able to tell the difference between that and regular Absolut, but apparently, this is ‘top notch’ according to Saylor.
About an hour in, we’re surrounded by a ton of other people Saylor invited, unbeknownst to me.
Models, socialites, entourages … Our girls’ night out is quickly being invaded by strangers.
I know Saylor means well, and I’m trying not to be ungrateful, but the more people who join us, the less fun I’m having.
Watching Saylor making out with Ren, I start to think about Dimos again. It might be the alcohol talking—okay, I’m sure it’s the alcohol talking—but I miss him. I think part of the reason I was so angry with him today is because deep down, even I know I’m going to show up to the office on Monday.
As I look out into the crowd, I swear I see him there. Watching me.
No fucking way.
I look through the crowd, trying to find his eyes again, but he’s nowhere to be found. I know it’s not the alcohol talking now. Right? Is he really here?
Ugh, I don’t know.
But I do know I can’t sit here and watch them make out any longer.
“Saylor, let’s go dance,” I request.
She detaches herself from Ren and turns to me.
“Yes! But first, tootskies!” Saylor reaches for the bottle of vodka and pours each of us one.
Yes, Saylor even has a nickname for shots.
We cheers to one another again before downing the smooth, clear liquid and making our way to the dance floor as Ren follows us. I try to keep an eye out without making it obvious I am looking around for him.
After a few minutes, I see a random guy on the edge of the dance floor making eyes at me.
Please don’t come over here.
But he does. I don’t dismiss him right off the bat, though I want to.
“Hi,” he screams over the loud music. “Want to dance?”
I don’t say yes, but I don’t turn him away. I just offer him a small, awkward smile and shrug my shoulders. Apparently, that’s as good as a yes to him, because he starts swaying along to the music behind me. The smile on Saylor’s face as she sees this all go down makes me roll my eyes.
The four of us dance as another two songs go by, before I’m past the point of being comfortable.
“Hey, I’m going to use the ladies’ room. I’ll meet you back at the sofa in a minute.”
Saylor flashes me two thumbs up as I excuse myself from the guy behind me. Just before I enter the back hallway, I turn around to see where he wandered off to, and I am happy to see it’s not to the sofa with Saylor and Ren.
Thankfully, the bathroom is empty when I get in there. I run some cold water over my hands and pat my cheeks with them.
No more alcohol for me. The room is beginning to spin.
I think I’ll tell Saylor I want to go home. She can stay and—
Suddenly, the bathroom door opens, and I see Dimos’s reflection staring back at me.
I knew I saw him.
“Are you following me now?” I turn and glare at him with an accusatory stare.
He doesn’t answer me. His only response is to lock the door to the bathroom behind him so no one else can get in.
“What are you doing?” My voice goes from stern to shaky in a heartbeat.
Still, he doesn’t answer me, but he no longer needs to. The look in his eyes. The jealousy and possession that burns beneath them is radiating outward, and I can feel the heat from here.
“Dim—” I don’t get a chance to finish panting his name before his lips are on mine.