Chapter 3 #2
Jeremy steps past me, and I catch a whiff of his floral scent when he spins around, taking in the dining room and bar.
“It’s a really beautiful space.” He walks over to the large windows, placing his fingertips on the glass as he looks out at the water.
“Are you renting it? Are there any restrictions?”
He’d look really good naked and pressed against that glass while I—
“Uh, no, I, uh, own the building. I have all the control.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Do you now?”
My skin feels stretched thin and hot, and I hate that he can tell that I have absolutely no control right now.
Get it together, Marcus.
I try to put on my usual professional mask. “Why don’t we go into my office?” I say quickly. “We can talk about my expectations, and I’ll show you some photos of the Vancouver location.”
Jeremy nods absently, still studying the place with deep intensity. He looks . . . satisfied.
I walk to the other side of the bar to a set of stairs. I can hear his soft footfalls behind me.
There are actually two offices up here: one for me and one for Sebastian, though his goes largely unused. As we pass by, I glance inside. It’s mostly full of unpacked boxes, which makes me feel sad. I miss my brother.
I walk into my office, step aside to let Jeremy enter, and peek behind him to make sure that Tristan didn’t follow us. Then I close the door and cross to my desk, take my seat, and indicate that Jeremy should sit in the one across from me.
We stare at each other.
“So.” I feel so awkward.
Is he going to want to talk about last Friday? I really don’t want to. I want to forget it. But you can’t, can you?
Jeremy raises an eyebrow when I don’t say anything else, then places his hands on my desk with a sigh. “Look, Marcus—”
“They’re purple now,” I blurt.
Jeremy looks up at me. “Sorry, what?”
“Y-your fingernails. They were silver on Friday.”
“They were,” he says slowly, looking confused.
I’m confused too. Why did I say that? “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
He taps one finger on the desk. “I was just going to say that if you don’t want to work with me, it’s fine.” He shrugs. “I’ll just tell Tris that I didn’t think we were a good fit.”
“You don’t think we’re a good fit?”
He narrows his eyes. “I didn’t say that, but you seem uncomfortable.”
“You make me uncomfortable,” I admit, glancing away.
“Why?”
“That seems like a stupid question.”
“Look, Marcus. I just want us to be on the same page. This sort of job takes weeks, if not months, of one-on-one collaboration.”
I’m sweating even worse now, the armpits of my shirt sticking to my skin. He gives me a sympathetic smile that I kind of hate, and it dampens my anxiety and raises my hackles. This is ridiculous. I don’t get nervous. I’m Marcus-fucking-Conner.
“Do you really think you can do that after . . . what happened?” he continues.
“What happened, exactly?”
Jeremy purses his lips. “Marcus, I—”
“Tell. Me. What. Happened.”
His calm air shatters, and he lets out an explosive breath. “I sucked your huge cock, Marcus.” He glares at me. “And you seemed to really like it before you pulled a drip and dip.”
I grit my teeth. “As I recall, nothing happened.” Jeremy’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t speak. “Because I’m straight.” I sound like a homophobic prick, and I hate it.
“Marcus,” he says, with more patience than I expect or deserve, “while I would really like this job for my own selfish reasons, I’ll deal with losing it. No hurt feelings.”
My feelings are already hurt. “Feelings aren’t the issue,” I bark.
Jeremy looks startled. “If you can’t handle working with me—”
“I can handle you just fine,” I spit out before I realize the implication of my words. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of my face. Jeremy watches it with interest. “Why is it so damn hot in here?”
He leans back and smiles like he just won something. “Okay, big guy. Nothing happened.”
I narrow my eyes. “Really?”
“Look, if I’m being honest, I’m trying to build my portfolio so I can open my own design firm.” He gives me a shrewd look. “I know who you are—who your family is. This would be a high-profile job for me, and I want to get it right.”
I frown. “My name aside, there are a million offices in Seattle, Jeremy. Why don’t you want to design the next building? Wouldn’t that be bigger clout?”
He waves his hand, his nails catching my eye again. “Been there, done that. Not for , mind you, but I’ve done enough office and hospital projects to know I’d rather chew razor blades than plan out another boardroom for some rich prick.”
“And my pub is different because. . .”
Jeremy gives me a small smile. “I read about Brothers’ Beer my friend Marion is a reporter there, and she knows the editor of the Home and Decor section. I think I can drum up a lot of hype for this job, which would work in your favor when you open. Restaurants, pubs, and breweries in Seattle are a dime a dozen. I want to make yours stand out.”
He’s speaking to my business sense now, and that makes me feel more grounded and confident. I feel our power shift. He isn’t the one in control anymore. If I hire him, I could change the whole trajectory of Jeremy’s career. It’s a heady feeling.
Jeremy reaches his hand across the desk, offering it to me. I stare at it like this one decision might change my life, and then, before I can second-guess myself, I press my palm against his. Even though his hand is smaller than mine, his grip is firm and his hand is warm.
I shake it and give him a stiff nod. “Now, maybe you can tell me the difference between stormy gray and gray storm.”