Chapter 11
Monica
T he front desk attendant at Troy’s apartment gave me a knowing look as I carried up yet another dry cleaning bag full of fresh suits. I wondered how many suits one man needed as I heaved the bag onto the counter. This had been my fifth time to the dry cleaner this week and my fifth time in his apartment lobby with this same attendant.
“Another delivery for Mr. Gunner,” I said with a tight-lipped smile.
“At this point, you should just move in,” she said.
I didn’t know why that made me blush, but it made me think of his apartment and how much of it I hadn’t explored. And the places he had explored me in it.
“Thank you,” I said with a nod before turning to the door.
I glanced at the time on my phone. It was 5 p.m. That was my last errand of the day. I had timed all of his tasks perfectly, so I could get off at a decent time and start the weekend. I had been looking forward to the weekend since I had started the job. Not because I didn’t enjoy it. Despite having such menial tasks to do, I actually liked the job. Apart from the fact I went all over Manhattan yesterday trying to find a client with a generic name that ended up not even existing. By the end of the day and many cab fares later, I said ‘screw it’ and signed the damn paper myself. I knew he had put me up to an impossible task, most likely to avoid me. So I didn’t feel bad when I forged a signature for an imaginary George Smith.
Besides yesterday, the tasks and to-do lists he set out for me were easy. Sure, it meant a lot of trips to the dry cleaner, but it wasn’t mentally taxing. What was, was trying to avoid Troy. That part was mentally exhausting, especially when he was all I could really think about. It was like I was fighting finding ways to be next to him, and exploring new ways of avoiding him all at the same time.
Now I had the weekend away from the office and him. I wouldn’t have to be so on my toes or comparing calendars or looking around the corners of the office, making sure I didn’t spend more time than I needed to with him. Which had been next to none. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly disappointed by that.
I pushed open the large glass doors of his apartment building, the same ones I had slipped out of that early morning just a few days ago. Somehow, it felt like a lifetime ago. I felt like I could breathe again out on the sidewalk as the sun began to dip below the buildings, casting a shimmering reflection over the streets. Just being in his building was stifling. Knowing he spent his time off work up on the top floor. Eating. Sleeping. Fucking.
I glanced around to make sure he wasn’t ambling up the sidewalk and quickly hailed a cab. I didn’t want to risk any more time there than I needed to.
The ride to Queens was longer than usual and by the time I got home, I was ready to take a long soak in a bubbly bath with a glass of wine. Which was exactly what I did. After I had rinsed the lavender bubbles from my skin and finished the last sip of cabernet that pooled at the bottom of my glass, I slipped on an oversized Mets shirt and grabbed a stack of takeout menus from the drawer. I perused through them and finally decided on Grand Sichuan. I called and placed an order to be delivered.
While I waited, I turned on the TV and settled in on the couch with a freshly poured glass of wine. I flipped through the channels and landed on the nightly news. Not my first choice, but there was nothing else on. I mindlessly scrolled through my phone and half listened to what the newscasters were saying. It was nights like these where I missed living with Heart. It was nice to have the company, even when Bridgette came along and woke us up every two hours in that tiny loft. I had loved every short minute of it. I knew it couldn’t last forever, and was so happy when Daniel asked her to move in with him. She had her happy ending. At least one of us did.
“Bryson Gunner will be holding a press conference in regards to new shareholders at his company…” My ears perked up at the name and my eyes shot to the TV.
There were photos of Troy’s father on the screen, followed by one of him and Troy at a recent charity event. I sucked in a slow breath as my eyes took in the details of Troy’s tight-lipped smile, his folded hands, his serious green eyes. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of happiness in him in the photo, and a small feeling of sadness formed a lump in my throat. I quickly changed the channel.
I couldn’t escape him.
I found a rom-com that I had seen before. There was comfort in knowing the ending already. A happy one, of course. One I couldn’t give my readers in my last book. A mistake that still had me reeling and avoiding my agent’s calls.
My takeout was delivered and I enjoyed it while watching the rest of the movie, eventually falling asleep on the couch with dreams of emails with to-do lists.
When Monday morning came around, I felt refreshed having spent the weekend holed up in my apartment. I hadn’t risked going out again in case there was the most minuscule chance I would run into Troy again. The odds were slim to none, especially where I lived in Queens.
I had even checked his calendar to see what his plans were, partly out of curiosity and partly to save myself a run-in in case I did venture out. On the evenings he left blank, I let my mind wander to what he might be doing. Who he might be with. Whose body his hands might be on. The thought made me immediately ‘X’ out of his neatly color-blocked life.
It wasn’t like he would have penciled in that he was getting laid anyway.
In the office, I carried his iced Americano to his desk and placed it on the same glossy black coaster I always did. I inspected the color one more time to make sure it was the perfect shade of dark caramel before taking a seat at my desk. I turned on my computer and opened my emails.
A sense of dread washed over me as I saw that my inbox was empty. No long to-do list. No calendar notifications. No word from Troy at all. I racked my brain as I tried to figure out if I had missed anything on Friday’s list. Anything that potentially would have gotten me fired to earn this unusual radio silence on his end.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to panic much longer because Troy walked in ten minutes later, surprisingly early after last week. He wore a light gray linen suit and a pale blue button-down that brought out the color of his skin. His hair looked like it was still damp from the shower, immediately causing my mind to wander back to seeing his body under the city lights.
I carefully watched him sit at his desk and take a sip of coffee, not even inspecting the color as I so tediously did. He did give a slight nod as if to say he approved after taking a sip. Then his eyes were on me, meeting the unintentional gaze I had on him. I had been caught.
“Monica, can you come in here, please?” he asked through his open door.
I swallowed hard.
“Mhmm,” I managed, standing from my desk chair and walking toward him. My body was all nerves. I wasn’t sure if it was because I thought I was about to get fired or because it was my close proximity to him.
I stood in his doorway waiting for his next move, smoothing out the black skirt I had carefully chosen this morning, not wanting to admit I was dressing more for him than the job. Black pumps weren’t the most practical thing to wear, but I did catch him staring just once, and I liked having his attention. Even more than a millisecond.
“Please sit,” he said, gesturing to the armchair across from his desk.
I did as he said.
“I wanted to tell you that I’m impressed with your work,” he said, folding his hands on his desk. My eyes fell to them briefly, remembering what they felt like on my bare skin. How his fingers explored hungrily. My eyes shot up to his again, as if they were a safer place to look.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
He looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking again.
“Going forward, I would like you to be working more closely with me on a daily basis,” he said, his brows furrowed, as if it were difficult to get the words out. “That is, if you’re okay with that?”
His green eyes, more seafoam today, studied me carefully as his words fell over me.
More closely.
Daily basis.
This was what you signed up for, I reminded myself. This was what a personal assistant did. Don’t take it as a compliment. Don’t take it as anything more than what this is. A job.
“Of course,” I said, giving him a reassuring nod that I hoped didn’t look too eager.
But I was eager.
I cursed my stomach as it fluttered at the thought of spending more time with him. Learning more about him. Seeing more of his life. I placed my hand just below the breast of my blazer, trying to calm my traitorous stomach.
As much as I had spent all of last week avoiding him, the only thing I really wanted was to be close to him. He was like a calm storm that I was desperately trying not to get swept up in, but he was undeniable.
“I’m pleased to hear that,” he said. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his perfect lips.
Why did that sentence sound so sexy coming out of his mouth? I wanted to please him in more ways than I could count.
“Well, it’s what you hired me for,” I said, a gentle reminder that this was just business.
A reminder for me. For him. I didn’t know.
I couldn’t be the only one who felt this tension crackling between us, like a fire that had just been lit.
He studied me a moment longer, the faint smile leaving as quickly as it had come.
“I hired you as a favor to Daniel,” he reminded me.
Touché.
“But you are proving to be a valuable asset. Even if it’s only been less than a week,” he said.
“Dry cleaning can be a hard art to master,” I said, cursing myself immediately for letting my usual sarcasm escape my mouth on someone who didn’t know me well enough to take it well.
That same smile reached his lips again, traveling up to his eyes this time. He let out a chuckle and sat back in his plush desk chair. His green eyes danced this time, and they didn’t leave mine. It was a beautiful sight, and reminded me of the photo on the news, so devoid of joy.
I knew if I had to hear that recognizable laugh every day or see that vague smile that most wouldn’t even know was there, then this was going to be much harder than I thought. Especially because I now knew how good it felt to make him laugh. On top of how good it felt to make him tremble inside me.