Chapter 11
BLAKE
“And here’s the current year,” Eli said, hauling another file box onto the boardroom table.
It was Monday, the first day of our operational review.
The day after I’d woken up with the most god-forsaken hell raiser of a hangover I’d ever known.
I still didn’t know what had happened the night of the dinner, but given Jude and Chelsea, who I’d seen downstairs coming in, had smiled and waved rather than looking at me with disgust, I hoped it wasn’t bad.
I still hadn’t seen Cassandra, though.
“This is everything?” I asked, trying to shake off the worry. I’d discovered the contract next to the bed I’d woken up in, so whatever had happened, it hadn’t been bad enough to fire me.
“As far as I can tell,” Eli said.
The boardroom was going to be Lila’s headquarters for the next few weeks.
She’d be examining all the financials and then launching interviews with key staff.
I was helping her set up—and giving her the key questions I wanted to ask—before meeting with Cassandra at nine.
Cassandra, who I hadn’t seen since Saturday.
Cassandra, who I wasn’t sure if I’d… No, I wouldn’t think about it. Not now, in her goddamned offices.
“Thanks, Eli.” I slid the box off the table and placed it in the stack against the wall.
I needlessly rearranged several of the boxes for good measure, needing the physical effort.
While I’d spent Sunday morning swimming several miles of laps in the pool, I hadn’t made it to the gym since last week, and feeling my muscles work—however lightly—felt good.
Simple and uncomplicated, unlike the mess I’d created here.
“Yes, thank you, Eli,” Lila said, tucking her phone back in her blazer pocket. She’d been talking to another client while we brought in the boxes. “I appreciate you having these all ready for us this morning.
“No prob,” Eli said, pressing his fingers to his temples and shooting me an apologetic look. If Eli was anything like me, he was suffering from hangover day two.
“Lila,” he said. “I’m sorry again for leaving you all at the dinner this weekend. I… wasn’t in a good place.”
“Of course,” Lila said, her voice sweet on the outside. “I hope you two didn’t get into too much trouble? Blake wouldn’t tell me much about what happened after we all left.” She put emphasis on that last word hard enough for a dagger of pain to shoot through my temple.
“None at all. Blake helped chill me out,” Eli said.
“I think that was the McCallan,” I said.
Eli groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
After Eli left, Lila flipped over a page on her notepad and scribbled something out.
“Lila—” I said.
“Don’t,” she flung back.
I sighed, sinking into a chair. Lila had barely spoken to me since Saturday.
She’d sent Brynn over to check on me at nine AM yesterday morning.
Judging by Brynn’s expression when I’d hauled open the sliding door, I’d looked as much of a zombie as I felt.
“Just seeing if you made it home last night.”
As far as Brynn and Lila knew, I’d come home Saturday night.
Thank everything above I’d woken up at dawn Sunday morning and stumbled home on foot.
Even without knowing the whole story, Lila was angrier than I’d seen her in a long time.
The only communication I’d had from her was a text confirming this meeting, and a subscript that I better not have done anything to fuck with this project. Not after making her take it on.
This morning, after a six AM swim, I’d walked to the resort, not up for a tense ride in the car with Lila, no matter how quick.
The trip was only a half-hour on foot, and nice too—a winding route through the side streets of downtown Quince Valley, followed by a trek over the pretty red bridge that spanned the water, and up the hill to the resort.
“Lila,” I said now, but paused. I wanted to tell her I didn’t jeopardize the project, but I didn’t know if that was true. I couldn’t remember shit about Saturday night. Nothing except flashes after sitting down at the bar with Eli. And I couldn’t tell if those were real or dreams.
All I could do was apologize. “I’m sorry. I behaved like a total shit.”
“In front of new clients.” She still didn’t look at me, just scribbled something on her notepad.
“Yes, that.” I stood up and began pacing the room.
I fucked up, it was true. But I wasn’t going to eat shit all morning, either.
“But Lila, nothing about this job has been like our normal work so far, has it? This family—” The door was ajar, so I lowered my voice.
“This family has its own issues, and had no real qualms about showing them on Saturday. Eli needed a buddy. Plus, you know you can count on your hand the number of times I’ve gone overboard like that, right? Hell, it’s not even a full hand.”
Lila looked directly at me for the first time.
I wasn’t going to bring up the last time it had happened.
That had been fifteen years ago. But she remembered.
She lowered her pen, seeming to soften just a little.
“You’re right. It’s not exactly a pattern.
But that’s what makes this worrying in its own right.
I don’t know what’s going on with you, Blake, but I’m a little worried, okay?
First you insisted we take this job out here—you convinced me it was the best thing to do for our business.
Then, when I’m finally onside, you asked me if I ever thought of quitting.
And that’s after whatever the hell went down with you and the flipping CEO when you were out fishing! ”
I was standing by the window now. It was a gorgeous view from here.
The same one I’d woken up to on Sunday morning.
“Then I got drunk with the CFO,” I said.
And God knows what else. I turned to look at her.
“This has been a messed-up start, I know that. And I apologize. But I’m not going to back out on you, okay? ”
I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the project, our business, the fake marriage, or both. My head started throbbing again. “I’m going to get a coffee before my meeting with Cassandra.” I still had twenty minutes before the meeting.
“Brynn’s getting us some—”
“I need some air,” I said, my voice hard. I suddenly couldn’t get far enough away.
For the hundredth time since Sunday, I wracked my brain trying to remember something—anything—about Saturday night as I headed downstairs.
When I’d woken up in the hotel room, I’d still been half-drunk, though it had quickly transformed into a monstrous hangover.
At first I’d thought it was Eli who’d gotten me the room.
Then I saw the envelope. I’d opened it with shaking hands, already knowing what it was.
I didn’t know in what state I’d find it, though.
Torn up? Scrawled on with a note that I was a pig?
But Cassandra had signed it—every page. I hadn’t been fired.
Of course, that wouldn’t make much business sense—the contract was essentially a gift to the Rolling Hills with how I’d laid it all out.
She’d be screwing herself if she turned it down.
But I was also naked in a hotel room, with my clothes hung neatly in the closet.
Every time I thought about what might have happened—all the options—I felt sick.
Had I made a fool of myself? Did I hit on her? Had I slept with her?
The only thing I’d landed on was I couldn’t let it just sit there, nebulous and unknown. And I wasn’t going to wait around for Cassandra to tell me. I was going to ask her, point blank. Then I’d deal with the consequences.
At five to nine, I was back upstairs, this time in front of the doors to the executive offices, my briefcase in one hand and two Americanos in a holder in the other, my pockets stuffed with creamers and sugar as I had no idea what she took in her coffee.
Cassandra’s door was ajar when I reached it. Her face was tipped down, and for a moment I didn’t say anything, just watched the way she tucked a wave of her hair behind her ear as she read whatever document was in front of her.
“Morning,” I said.
When she looked up, I nearly swayed on my feet.
She was wearing reading glasses, which were perched halfway down her nose like a sexy librarian.
Good God, she was gorgeous. My idiot brain went right there, sending an electric message straight down to my dick, which twitched as if it had some business doing that. Did it remember something I didn’t?
“Good morning.” She looked slightly stiff, nervous maybe. But not like she wanted to kill me. “Come in.”
Point one Harrington.
Cassandra said nothing as I stepped inside and settled down in one of the seats across from her desk. My mind flew in all directions as I took in her lips, pink and pressed together. Had I known those? Her hands, laced together—had those been on me?
My dick jumped again, thankfully out of her line of sight.
“Is one of those for me?” she asked finally.
“Shit. Yes. Here—I didn’t know if you took cream or if you even drink coffee.” I pulled out the accouterments from my suit jacket and set them in a pile on the desk.
“Thanks,” she said.
Ask. Just ask now. “Cassandra,” I began. Then I realized that her office door was open. I got up to close it, but Eli was sitting in the office directly across, and he looked up when I reached the door.
I hesitated. “Will talking bother you?” I called to him.
“Cassandra talking always bothers me,” Eli quipped.
I gave a half-hearted laugh. Then I closed the door partway. Inside, my guts were swirling.