Chapter 7
SEVEN
SHAE
I ’m late to the office.
The showdown with the Keystone folks, Zane’s presence, and the fact that I’m seeing things had me drinking two and a half glasses of wine last night before I crashed into my bed with Drumline playing on the flatscreen in my bedroom.
And I rarely drink these days.
When I woke up this morning, hoping to get myself together with a quick, hard ride, I only ended up coming on the bicycle seat.
Which clearly is…beyond.
I grab my oversized Kate Spade purse and exit my G-Wagon, booking it to the elevators. Yenn makes fun of me and my Kate collection.
“You’re rich-rich now, bestie! At least get a Birkin!” she says way too often.
But I don’t want flashy shit just because I can. I like what I like, and I like Kate Spade.
The doors slide open, and the car is blessedly empty, so I take the time to calm my heart rate and access the inner bad bitch I need to be to the rest of the world once the elevator stops on the top floor.
For the last few months, everything has been in flux, and the truth is, I don’t feel equipped to handle it all.
I know I will handle it all.
But the thing I can’t admit out loud is it feels like carrying all this shit to the top of the mountain might break me.
I’ll reach the summit, but how much of me will be left at the finish line?
Don’t stress. You’ll get a vacation soon. Very soon.
I turn to check my reflection in the mirrored wall panes as I pass the tenth floor. Adjusting my wide-legged tan pants and the color-matched silk top, I reach into my bag and apply a coat of my bright red lipstick.
When in doubt, bring the red lipstick out.
I need to get that on a mug or something.
“Get your head in the game,” I snap at my reflection, pushing down all the annoying emotions in my chest. There’s no time for this.
I’m weeks away from making the biggest business move of my career, and I’ll be damned if I let anything come in my way.
Especially thoughts of Storm Sandoval.
My phone chirps right as the elevator pings for the top floor and the doors slide open, but I ignore it because Melissa stands on the other side with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and her iPad in the other.
“You only have a few things on the agenda for this morning, Ms. Rivers,” she says, deftly grabbing my bag and handing me the coffee in a smooth movement. “The EMEA team sent over the Q2 reports this morning?—”
“Fucking finally,” I grumble, sipping my perfect coffee. I grin—not a full smile—and thank God for Melissa. “What was their excuse for the delay?”
I pick up the pace and target my corner office, not stopping to acknowledge or say hi to any of the employees filling the cubicles to my left and right.
Their heads are down anyway, engrossed in their work. Why would I interrupt that?
“Well,” Melissa says, “they didn’t exactly provide one.”
I halt and look at her where she stands to my left and raise an eyebrow. The skin around her eyes tightens, and she taps frantically on her tablet.
“I’ll get the answer to that this morning, Ms. Rivers,” she says.
Excellent.
I sniff, remaining silent, and continue my trek to my office.
“I received your email and coordinated your request. Your nine a.m. is here,” Melissa says when I cross the threshold into my office. I stop short, tuning Melissa out, because there are three dozen red roses in the center of my desk. I stare at them as if they might hop up and bite me.
“What is that ?” I rasp, taking cautious steps closer to the bouquet. When was the last time someone bought me flowers?
“…And I’ll guide them to the conference room for you to join them at the top of the hour. Oh! Those are from…um….”
I round my desk, placing my coffee on the coaster to the right of my keyboard.
A thick white envelope sticks out of the center of the arrangement, and for a second, I allow myself to be transported back to another time and place.
To a time when I thought I was in deep, unyielding love, and I was loved in return.
Turns out there’s no such thing. Feelings are as temporary as these blooms that are now cut from their bushes.
It dies. All of it, everything, dies.
I open the card and frown when I see Zane’s name at the bottom of a long missive that I won’t be reading, and that frown deepens when a knock sounds from my door.
Speak of the motherfuckin’ devil.
Zane’s smile is particularly broad this morning, and Melissa shifts in clear discomfort in my peripheral vision. I understand why she would be, given the fact that Zane’s given me a big-ass bundle of flowers.
God forbid if she read his note.
For your desk, but I won’t be mad if they end up in your bedroom.
- Zane Gibson
What in the actual hell? And why did he sign his full name like that?
“Good morning, Liv,” Zane says, taking an unwelcome step into my office. Irritation blooms hot behind my ears.
“Ms. Rivers?” Melissa says, and when I give her my full attention, she stares at me with a completely bewildered expression, one that shouts, What the fuck do you want me to do here?
I sigh, deciding to free my assistant and straighten out some things with my business partner.
“Melissa, thank you. I’ll be available in a minute.”
Melissa nods quickly, clutching her iPad to her chest like a shield.
“Of course, Ms. Rivers,” she replies, and in a blink, she’s past Zane and out the door.
And that just leaves….
Zane enters the office fully, pausing to slide the door shut and tapping the button on the small window to the outside office, casting frost across the glass.
“Do you like the flowers?” he asks, his voice dropping.
“They’re nice,” I say diplomatically. “But we need to lay some boundaries here, Zane.”
Zane keeps smiling as he steps closer. Luckily, my desk and the bouquet still separate us, and he doesn’t try to come to my side again.
“Boundaries. Okay, I’m a modern man. I can jive with boundaries.”
I resist giving him a stank-face, because what the hell?
“Right,” I bite out. “There won’t be a repeat of the events that took place here yesterday, nor previously as far as…physical intimacy goes.”
He gives me a perplexed look, and his shoulders deflate like a kid losing out on the last lollipop at the store.
“I…oh,” he says.
Gentle. Don’t be a bitch to him. This man is your friend.
“Yes,” I say, choosing clear kindness. “For the best of the business, we need to keep things strictly professional from here on out.” I put the card back into the bouquet and push the vase toward the edge of my desk, closer to where Zane stands.
“I see,” he says, his voice getting a touch of hardness to it.
My spine stiffens. “I’m glad you see things correctly.”
Aaaaand smile. Try not to look completely hostile.
Zane gives me a long look, not moving at all. Then, with a sigh, he starts to spew complete nonsense.
“You’re scared,” he says.
Um…what?
“The hell?” I snap, my corporate accent slipping.
“Liv,” he says, finally coming around the desk so suddenly I don’t have time to react. This isn’t going how I thought it would go.
At all.
Fuck.
“I know you haven’t dated much since we started Orisun. I mean, how could you? You’ve been too busy being Ms. CEO.” He says the last part like it’s a friendly joke.
“But I see you, Liv. And I know what you need. You need a man who can actually take care of you. Who can give you that dick you need in your life…until you’re ready for more.”
What.
The.
Actual.
Fuck.
“I…” I’m actually speechless. I don’t want to laugh in this man’s face, because he’s right. While I don’t actually want his dick, I do really, really want someone’s dick in my life, if for no other reason than the fact that I came while riding my Peloton this morning.
Who has a fucking orgasm while riding an exercise bike?
Bitches who need to be dicked down, that’s who.
You know what set you off, though….
I shake my head, hoping to shake away Zane’s words and the unwelcome image of the trainer who looked entirely too much like the man I never allow myself to think about.
What a weird fucking day.
“You don’t need to say anything, Liv. Just…think on it. Okay?”
Zane looks earnest, and I’m so screwed up, it feels hard to breathe.
It feels hard to?—
“Ms. Rivers?” Melissa’s voice comes through the speaker on my desk, and I was wrong before. This is the moment when I’ve never been more grateful for my assistant.
“Yes, Melissa?” I rush out, leaning over to press the button and get my sights off Zane.
“Your nine o’clock is settled in, ma’am. And I know you have the ten a.m. meeting, so I wanted to make sure….”
I glance at my computer screen, and the clock screensaver says it’s 9:02 a.m.
Thank. God.
“I’ve got a nine a.m.,” I say, sliding past Zane and booking it to my door.
“Think about it, Liv!” he calls after me, making more than one head turn. Fuck. What the hell is happening right now? I should be livid. I should be able to shut this shit down. I should be able to be the fucking boss.
Anger piles on top of anger, so by the time I reach the boardroom door, I’m feeling like a dragon, fire-breathing and all.
I enter the room, locking eyes with a flushed Melissa, who stands and hands me a tablet with my daily agenda queued up.
“Let’s get this started,” I say, setting the tablet down and lifting my arm to shake the hand of the first man to my right.
But when my eyes make contact, every single cell in my body freezes, shoved into an icy tundra as I see the ghost from my past.
No. This can’t be happening.
“Hey, Sweetness,” he whispers, having the audacity to smile at me—to say that fucking nickname like he can just waltz in here and show any type of endearment after what he did. After how I suffered in his abandonment and neglect.
I realize that there isn’t an earthquake hitting the building, and the frantic shaking comes from my body.
“Sweetness?” he asks, his face morphing into an expression I know to be concern.
Concern. Concern!
“Do you need som?—”
He never finishes the sentence, because my balled-up fist clocks him right in his too-angular jaw.