Jaime
JAIME
Swiping my card, I stab the button for the fourteenth floor of KBCX, feeling a little lighter than the last time I was here. Although I didn’t get an opportunity to speak to my parents this weekend, because it turned out they’d decided on a last-minute trip to their house in the Hamptons to give Louis and me some space, it’s still going to happen this week. I’ve also given the prenup back to my lawyer and she’s working her way through it again.
I’m not even going to pretend that Zak doesn’t have something to do with my lifted mood. Calling him on Saturday might have been stupid, but it was exactly what I needed. The two-hour-long conversation we had last night, too.
The elevator makes an abrasive sound, the card reader flashing red, and I frown. I swipe my card again and the same thing happens. Weird. Shrugging, I press the button for the lobby instead and it flashes green, immediately whisking me away from the underground parking.
Checking my reflection in the mirrored doors, I smile to myself. As promised, I’m meeting Zak on my lunch break at Joe For Joe. I figure, if we only have an hour, I won’t be tempted to do something stupid. You know, like drag him to a hotel or something. Because I totally have self-control. I smile to myself at the blatant lie.
Maybe it’s because he’s been around for the last few years, but I feel so comfortable with Zak. In just a few months, he knows more about me than my friends, and he’s somehow become the person I go to before anyone else. Which is ridiculous. It’s something I shouldn’t have let happen, but it did. And I can’t bring myself to walk away.
The elevator doors ping open and, as I step out into the sparsely populated lobby, my heart swells at the thought of being greeted by his dimpled smile at lunch. The next four hours can’t go fast enough.
My heels click on the marble as I cross the lobby with my access card in my hand, smiling at the woman behind the desk. “Morning, Sophie. My card isn’t working for some reason. Can you let me up to fourteenth, please?”
Sophie’s warm smile fades, and she glances at her computer before turning back to me. "I'm sorry, . I can't."
"You can't?" I frown, watching as her eyes dart to Stuart, the security guard, over by the front doors. “Why not?”
She swallows. “You don’t work here anymore.”
My mouth drops open. “Excuse me?”
I’m vaguely aware of Stuart’s broad frame moving toward us, but I’m too busy processing the rush of emotions slamming through me to think about why.
“Let me speak to Brad,” I demand, holding out my hand.
Sophie looks like she’s about to be sick and I honestly feel sorry for her. If Roxanne has somehow managed to get me fired, Brad should at least have the fucking balls to tell me to my face. Not get poor Sophie to do his dirty work.
“I . . . I can’t,” the poor woman stutters, her eyes flitting between me and Stuart, who’s made his way over to my side.
There are a few people in the lobby watching curiously, and I take a breath, flashing a woman I recognize a warm smile before turning and glaring at Stuart.
“Any thoughts you have of dragging me out of here, you’d best forget them. Fast,” I hiss. “I’m calling Brad.”
Stuart holds my stare but doesn’t make a move as I grab my phone from my purse and find his number. I keep staring at the security guard, ignoring everyone else, as the phone rings against my ear.
“Miss Smith.” Brad sighs as he answers. “How can I help you?”
My eyebrow arches. “You can help me by letting me up so I can do my job.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” He sighs again. “Your contract has been terminated. Effective immediately.”
A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down, my fingers holding my phone in a death grip. “Why? If Roxanne has—”
“It’s nothing to do with Roxanne,” he says, his voice frustratingly calm. “This request has come from the top.”
The top? I frown, an unease beginning to fill my gut as I shift my purse on my shoulder, still staring at Stuart’s frowning face. “What does that mean?”
“It means, Miss Smith, if you want to take this up with someone, speak to your father-in-law.”
The lobby sways, and I lean against Sophie’s desk as I the phone falls away from my ear. This has nothing to do with my future father-in-law. This is Louis. I know it. He didn’t want me working, so he’s taken care of it himself.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I snap at Stuart as he takes a cautious step forward. “I’ll see myself out.”
Avoiding Sophie’s eye, I turn and walk back toward the elevators with my head held high as people turn, their whispers too loud despite the blood roaring in my ears.
I can’t fucking believe this. My eyes burn as the doors slide shut and I descend back to the parking lot. How dare he? I swipe through to Louis’ contact and then stare at my phone with trembling hands. I don’t want to speak to him. I can’t.
I’m too angry. Too sad. Too . . . everything.
Dragging in deep breaths to calm my racing heart, I make my way over to my car and climb in. What the hell do I do now? If I go to class, I’ll have to tell my professor what happened. Mortification heats my skin. No. I need to fix this. I’ll speak to Louis and get him to undo this. He has to.
Once my hands stop shaking, I put my car in reverse and make my way out of the garage. I’m not really aware of the drive back to Franklin West, and as I leave Portland behind for the quiet mountain roads, I retreat further into my head, going over things I could have done differently.
There’s no way I could have known Louis would do that, but I still mentally kick myself for telling him about the internship. I realize it doesn’t really matter, though. Even if I’d managed to keep it a secret, there’s no way I could have held down a secret job after graduation. Not when he expects me to travel the world with him, warming his bed like a little portable incubator.
My stomach rolls. This isn’t what I signed up for. All this time, despite my reservations, I pictured living my life alongside Louis, both of us following our own paths, pursuing our dreams. Never once did I imagine him stomping on them until they drew their last breath.
When I pull into the Den parking lot, I blink in surprise. I hadn’t meant to drive here. Why didn’t I go to the Hive? My hand goes to put the car in reverse but stills. I came here for Zak—my brain subconsciously steering me to the place I feel safe and unjudged.
Shaking my head, I put the car in reverse and press on the gas. I should go to Abigail. Together we can bitch about Louis and drown my sorrows in wine and ice cream.
But I don’t want that.
Sighing in frustration, I pull back into the parking spot and put the car in park. Reaching for my phone, I tap out a message.
ME: You home?
He sees it instantly, the dots dancing at the bottom of our thread.
MOUSE: Yeah. You okay?
ME: I’m at the door
Climbing out of my car, I cross to the pebbled path leading to the Den. I don’t even care if the Wolves see me. Let them think what they want. Besides, it’s this or climbing through a fucking window, and that’s not happening.
Zak’s already at the door, looking like sin, barefoot in dark gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that might as well be painted on. As I draw closer, his eyes meet mine and the concern etched across his handsome features almost breaks the dam I’ve walled my tears behind.
“What’s up, Kitty Cat?” he asks as I climb the steps.
I shake my head and move past him into the Den, heading for the stairs. He doesn’t question me, instead closing the door and following behind, taking my hand when we reach the landing and steering me toward his room.
It occurs to me then, that I’ve never been in his room, and as he opens the door I peer around in curiosity. It’s neater than I expected, smelling of the woodsy cologne he wears and a little sweat. I don’t hate it.
“?” he says softly.
I stare at the lacrosse gear littering the corners, my gaze flitting to the trophies on the window ledge from his past three seasons. Anything to not look at him. Not when I’m this close to breaking.
“Want me to leave you alone?” he asks. “If you just want to hide out, that’s fine by me.”
I let out a breath, knowing he means it. That he’d let me just sit in his room if I needed it. I’m pretty sure Zak would give me anything I needed. It’s one of the things that makes him so damn dangerous.
“Stay,” I say softly, shrugging off my jacket and hanging it on his desk chair before sitting down on the bed.
After a minute, I glance up. He’s still leaning against the closed doors, his arms folded across his chest, and his eyes fixed on me.
“What?” I ask, kicking off my black patent Jimmy Choos.
He raises a dark eyebrow. “Nothing. Just thinking how good you look on my bed.”
Despite the shit show that has been this morning, a laugh rises in my throat. “You’re a dick.”
“Yeah.” He sighs and crosses the room, pulling out his chair and sitting down on it. “But I’m your dick.”
It doesn’t escape my attention that he hasn’t sat on the bed, and I wonder whether it’s for my sake or his. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, studying me with a half-smile that makes me regret coming here, yet somehow also confirms that this is exactly where I’m meant to be.
“I got fired,” I say on an exhale.
Zak’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open. “Why? What happened? Was it that fucking bitch Roxanne? I always hated her.”
I smile despite my misery. “What are you talking about?”
“She looks like a piece of work,” he says with a frown. “Fake as fuck. I don’t know how Derek puts up with her.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Since when do you watch the news?”
“Since you started working there.” He shrugs, meeting my gaze with a look that says, ‘what else did you expect?’
“You’re ridiculous,” I mutter.
“No. What’s ridiculous is that they fired you. They can’t just do that. Is there some sort of process to follow? Can you dispute it?”
I shake my head, my stomach rolling as I prepare myself to say the words I still can’t quite believe myself. “No. It wasn’t even the station. It was Louis.”
“Louis?” He frowns. “What the hell does Billionaire Ken have to do with this?”
Shuffling back on his bed, I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. “His family own the station.”
Silence fills the space between us as my words sink in, and I wait. But instead of the slew of cursing I expect, the bed dips, and before I can open my eyes, Zak folds me into his arms.
I frown against his chest, opening my mouth to ask what he’s doing, but then I hear his heart hammering rapidly beneath my ear. It’s so at odds with the slow, rhythmic movement of his hand across my back. Then, I realize. He’s furious. Seething. But he’s not shouting. He knows this is what I need.
My eyes brim with tears and I hold him closer, burying my face in his t-shirt as my dam finally breaks. Zak presses a kiss to my head, his arms holding me tighter as I sob, not only for the loss of my job, but of my future. Everything is a huge fucking mess, and I can’t even begin to see my way out of it. Especially when the only thing that makes sense is being here in another man’s arms.