Chapter 11
Damian
The next morning as I sit at my desk, glancing through the emails that I should be actually reading, Brielle is still on my mind. All night, I lay in bed, cursing her name.
Sasha was beautiful and engaging, and instead of spending the night in her lovely company, I had to settle for my fist, alone, my mind a blank slate because anytime I opened those fateful doors in my imagination, it was her that I saw.
Restless energy coils tightly inside of me.
I hear her voice before I see her. Brielle is chatting with Kelsey from our sales team on her way back from the pod room.
I glance up at the same time Brielle’s eyes dart to my office.
The door to my office is open so that if anyone has something they need to run by me, they can.
Most of my staff prefer to communicate via email though, so hardly anyone comes into my office unless summoned.
“Brielle, a word,” I call to her. Kelsey gives her a wide-eyed look. Others who are passing by snap their heads up in fear. The entire office freezes for a beat.
She smiles at Kelsey before turning toward me. She’s wearing a light green sweater and black wide-leg pants that go down to the floor, hiding her shoes beneath the heavy fabric.
“The door,” I tell her.
She closes it behind her and takes a seat in the chair across from me without waiting to be invited.
“How’d the dinner go last night?”
Her question startles me, and I take a second to answer.
“Fine.” People don’t generally ask me about my evenings or events. Then again, I rarely tell anyone what I’m doing. Idle chitchat isn’t something I engage in with my staff. But I did tell Brielle. The familiarity of it is throwing me off-kilter.
Silence hangs in the air again. I don’t really know why I called her in here. Only that I heard her voice, and I wanted to. Apparently, seeing her all goddamn night in my mind wasn’t enough.
“Do you have any food allergies?” I ask.
“Um, no. Why?”
“If you did, then I would know about it. For this weekend.”
“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Nope, allergy-free as far as I know. What about you?”
“None.”
Silence crowds us again. Brielle’s eyes dart around uncomfortably.
“Anything else?” she asks.
I can’t think of anything. My mind is completely blank as I try to come up with any reason why I called her in here.
“No,” I answer.
Brille nods, clearly confused. She gets up to go.
A quiet growl pulls a heavy breath from my lungs. Why is the energy between us so weird? Is it coming from her? Or is it me? I honestly can’t tell.
“This is ridiculous,” I bite out. “If we act like this over the weekend, we’re fucked.”
She’s nodding along, her wide eyes rounded.
“I agree. We need to spend more time together so we look more comfortable around each other. The other night went pretty well. We just need to continue to build on that. But not at the office,” she adds quickly.
“I’m sure you have a full schedule though, so whenever it works for you. ”
“I’m free tonight.” The words are out of my mouth before I can process what I’m saying.
“Tonight. Okay, sure. I can’t leave the office with you though, so you’ll have to pick me up at my place.”
“Why not? There’s no need for you to walk back to your apartment in the cold just for me to meet you there and pick you up. That’s inefficient and a waste of time.”
Her aversion to being seen with me is becoming apparent. She’s made a few mentions of it already. It isn’t that I don’t understand it. I know we need to be careful if we’re going to be spending time together, so why does it bother me so much? Is it because it’s her calling the shots rather than me?
“Okay, then I’ll meet you at the café on the corner.”
“Brielle,” I growl, my irritation growing. This wasn’t meant to be a negotiation.
“How do you make your eyes go so dark like that? It’s impressive. Really.” She gets up and starts for the door. “Anyway, at the café, tonight, right after work. See you there.” She smiles, stopping at the door on her way out. “Do you want this open or closed?”
Louisa is sitting at her desk behind Brielle with a smug smirk. I can only imagine what’s going through her head right now.
“Closed,” I tell her, looking over her shoulder at Louisa.
By the late afternoon, my door is open again. At 5:00 p.m. on the dot, the staff starts to shuffle out. Brielle isn’t in the first round of people to walk past my office, nor in the second. I’m starting to think that maybe I missed her on her way out when she finally comes into view.
“Okay, I’m leaving. Having a good night, Louisa.” She’s basically shouting. She continues to say goodbye to every single person around her.
“Are you alright?” Rui furrows his brow and asks.
“Yeah, just… being polite,” she says as she follows Rui out of the door.
I shake my head. I’ll give her a five-minute head start before I leave, but I still pick up my phone and fire off a text.
Me: You could have just texted that you were leaving for the day.
Her reply back is almost instantaneous.
Brielle: The art of showmanship is lost on you.
I fight back a laugh and collect my things for the day, walking through the office before I leave. There are still a couple of people around, but it’s otherwise cleared out. I leave them to finish their day and head over to the café to pick up Brielle.
She’s waiting inside when I get there. The lights in the café illuminate her as she sits in front of the window, shining a spotlight on her like she’s starring in a movie.
Brielle looks up at the sound of the door opening as I make my way inside. “Let’s go.”
“Did you want to stay here?” she asks, but she’s already collecting the coat that she’s discarded and her large black bag.
“No. There’s no food here.” A couple of bakery items sit in a display case, but nothing that would be acceptable to feed her for dinner.
She nods and follows me out to my car, ducking inside quickly. We drive in an uncomfortable silence as I make my way back to my apartment.
“Do you always drive without the music on?” She blurts her question out, cutting through the quietness.
“Not when I’m alone, but I shut it off when I know I’m going to have someone in the car with me.”
“Because you have crappy taste in music?” she asks, crinkling her nose in mock embarrassment.
“No. My taste in music is impeccable, unlike yours,” I tease. Her jaw drops, and she pokes my shoulder. The tension between us lifts with her playfulness. “I find it more considerate to keep the radio off when I have someone with me.”
“That’s oddly thoughtful,” she says.
I cut her a side-eye that has her laughing. The sound of it loosens something inside my chest.
“Where are we going?” she asks, running her fingers through her long locks as she plays with her hair.
“My place.” Brielle stills, her arm still raised where she’s raking her fingers through her chestnut locks. It isn’t like I’m planning on taking advantage of her. I just feel most relaxed in my own space, but if she’s not comfortable with it, we can go somewhere else. “Is that alright?”
“Um, I guess so. Yeah, sure. I just thought we were going out to dinner again when you mentioned food. Can we stop on the way so I can grab something to eat?”
“I’ll make us dinner.”
Her eyebrows hit her hairline as she stares at me, dumbfounded. The reservation she was feeling seems to slide away. “You can cook?”
“Yes, I can cook. I’m a grown man, Brielle. I know how to feed myself.”
“We’ll see, I guess,” she says skeptically.
I’m already running through the various dishes I make regularly to find something that will knock her off her feet.
I have this strange urge to impress her, like it matters what she thinks of my cooking skills.
After this weekend, we’re never going to speak of this again, so I don’t know why I care what she thinks.
I pull into my reserved parking spot in the parking garage and lead Brielle into the adjoining building and over to the elevator. I plug in the code that unlocks the top-floor access.
“To the penthouse, please,” Brielle says with a fake posh accent.
I hit the button for the twenty-second floor, the highest floor in the building.
“No. I was just joking,” Brielle hisses, swatting at my hand. I shoot her a look, and she picks up what I’m not saying. Her face pales, and she tries to glare at me, but she can’t seem to pull off a mean look, no matter how hard she tries. “You’ve got to me kidding me.”
A smirk tugs at my mouth. Most women are suitably impressed when I bring them to my penthouse suite in the center of the city, or at least they act like it. Not Brielle.
We step off the elevator, and I unlock the door to my suite.
“Wow. I think my entire apartment fits into your kitchen.”
I’m pretty sure my kitchen is bigger, to be honest. But I don’t tell her that.
It’s an open-concept floor plan, so the living room, dining room, and kitchen are all together. Brielle walks over to the large windows in the living room, looking out over the city of Boston.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll make dinner. Is shrimp okay?”
“Sure. Do you mind if I use the bathroom?”
“Down the hallway on the left,” I tell her.
Shrimp scampi is one of my best dishes, so I get started making it. Brielle is taking a while to come back, which I assume means she’s off giving herself a tour of my place.
I take off my suit jacket and roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt. My earlier suspicions are confirmed when Brielle pops back into the kitchen.
“Is that a full gym? I wouldn’t have been surprised if you said the building had a gym, but you have one in your apartment?”
“I like to stay active,” I say. I spend a lot of my day sitting behind a desk. I need to be able to work out whenever my schedule allows for it, which sometimes means odd hours. It’s more convenient to have everything I need close by so I don’t have to waste time going somewhere else.