4. Evren #2
All I can think about is everything she’s not saying with words.
About what kind of dare she is presenting me.
And in a moment of pure fucking insanity, I grab her hand when she scoops up her next spoonful and guide it into my own mouth.
The second our hands touch, my pulse quickens, and I swear the air around us crackles with energy.
It’s just a simple touch, but it sends shockwaves through my body, awakening something deep inside me that I didn’t even know was sleeping.
But I quickly brush it aside—this doesn’t mean anything.
My mind is just playing a trick on me, fueled by the loneliness that creeps in when the night gets too quiet.
“Hey,” she protests. “That bite was mine.”
“Nope, it was mine, in payment for the coffee.” I choke down the dry, horrible-tasting cereal with a straight face.
Outrage flashes across her features, but I take the spoon from her, dip it into my marshmallow cereal, and feed her a bite, careful not to touch her again.
She parts her lips and closes them slowly around the spoon.
She keeps her gaze on me the entire time and it’s the sexiest fucking thing in the world.
Her eyes flutter closed as she eats, clearly enjoying it.
“Why don’t you buy this kind,” I say, “if you like it so much?”
“Because the other one was on sale.”
That’s it? That’s the reason? She’s eating something that’s not her favorite just because it was on sale? That’s unacceptable.
“I don’t like this kind.” I give her the box of my marshmallow cereal. “You can have it.”
“If you don’t like it, why did you buy it?”
“I had never tried it before.”
She looks at me skeptically and I lie, “We have local brands in Türkiye, and I’m still trying to find one I like here.”
My phone buzzes, an unwelcome reminder that I need to leave. “I need to go.”
“No one is stopping you,” she says. “Don’t get into too much trouble today.”
I arch an eyebrow. “I think I should be saying that to you.”
“Me?” She gasps dramatically. “Trouble? You’ve got the wrong woman.”
“You sure about that?” I leave before she can respond and I’m tempted to smile again all the way to work, just like I have been the past two days.
When I get home at nine, I find Nina on the floor in the living room, eating cereal yet again.
“Do you eat anything besides cereal?” I ask curiously, wondering what she’s doing here at this hour. I don’t even know what she even does during the day. My best guess is sleeping and lazing around since that’s what Zeki would do and he’s closer to her age.
“Why? Do you plan on eating it all?”
“Maybe.” I sit on the floor next to her, my back against the wall, copying her position.
I need a few minutes of interacting with someone unrelated to work.
Just a few minutes of distraction, before I tackle the mountain of work I need to complete before tomorrow morning.
“My bite this morning was the best thing I had today.”
She rolls her eyes. “Your private chef on holiday or something? Having to slum it with takeout?”
“I don’t have a chef.”
“Why not?” She glances at me.
“I don’t like people in my space. I only use one on special occasions.”
“Okay? So then what did you eat for lunch that was so horrible?”
“Nothing. There’s never any time to eat during the day.” Even though I have a lunch break blocked off, I never use it to actually eat. My meetings either run over, or I need the time to prepare for the rest of the day.
Nina frowns and then gets up and pours me a bowl of cereal, the cinnamon sugar kind I despise with almost no milk. She shoves it into my hands without touching me, as if to tell me that this isn’t going to be a regular occurrence, and plops back down on the floor next to me.
“Thank you,” I say. It doesn’t matter that this cereal is disgusting and that I prefer more milk. This small gesture means something to me, more than she knows.
“Your assistant should order you lunch.”
“I don’t have an assistant.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t like people in my space,” I repeat. But really it’s because I can’t trust anyone. If my best friend blackmailed me, who’s to say that my assistant wouldn’t try to sabotage my business?
“Interesting.”
“Not really.”
“So what? You’re doing everything yourself?”
“Yes, I like to remain focused.” Which is ironic since I’m sitting next to the biggest distraction I’ve ever had.
“Shame. I think you should mix up your day a bit, do something fun like fuck someone over your desk.”
“Is that a fantasy of yours? To be fucked in an office?”
“And if it is?”
“We can make it come true.” I say it as a joke, and I think it is, even if a big part of me wouldn’t mind role-playing this fantasy of hers. Images of her bent over my desk flash in my mind and I adjust myself discreetly.
She chokes on her bite of food and then laughs. “Did you just make a joke?”
“I don’t joke,” I deadpan .
She points her spoon at me. “See? You just made another one.”
I shake my head and go back to eating, refusing to admit that I did tell a joke. But I don’t know what it means that she actually noticed. No one ever notices.
The next morning, she’s wearing a colorful, floral button-down that she ties off at her belly button. The words “I’m not arguing, I’m just explaining why I’m right” are sewn onto the front and I’m tempted to chuckle when I see it, but I catch myself in time. Barely.
“Did you make that?” I ask, nodding to her shirt.
“Of course.”
I make her some coffee in silence. Nina has so much talent and potential, and I don’t understand why she doesn’t use it. Her viral jacket for Stella featuring the Sentinel logo created a huge demand, and to be honest, I’m shocked she hasn’t asked for a franchising deal from me yet to sell it.
Handing her a cup of coffee, I ask exactly that question. “Why did you never ask for the rights to sell your jacket?”
“Oh, I don’t know… I liked the idea of you suing me better.”
Sure, I might’ve inadvertently threatened to do just that when she debuted the dark green bomber jacket, with double zeros on the front, the team logo discreetly placed on the sleeves, and the back featuring Stella’s profile while she sings into a microphone.
But why does she have to say it like that?
All sharp and smokey. I don’t need more complications in my life, but, somehow, I find her confrontational personality attractive.
More than attractive. It’s fucking mesmerizing.
“That’s too much paperwork,” I say. “But what if I go ahead and offer you the franchising deal, anyway?”
She scoffs but it’s tinged with amusement. “And why the hell would you do that?”
“Because you’re talented,” I say simply.
And it is that simple. My gut says this would be a good business deal, a low-risk one given the proven demand.
It’ll also increase the team’s visibility at such an important time.
I could even donate the earnings to support the Uplift Foundation, the foundation that Stella and I joined together to help support and mentor children, and where the jacket was first debuted.
“Of course I’m talented.” She flips her long hair behind her, as if emphasizing that point. “But it’s a hell no from me.”
“And why not?” I lean against the counter, curious about what excuse she’s going to give.
“I refuse for you to make money off me. It’s not like you need more.”
“Let me get this straight.” I raise my eyebrow in disbelief. “You’d rather be miserable and not make any money doing what you love? Do you like being poor or something? ”
Her face pales for a moment before she glares at me and throws her shoulders back. I can practically see the walls she’s putting up as a defensive barrier around herself.
From what I understand, she grew up on the edge of poverty, just like Elodie.
I wonder if she doesn’t go after her goals because she’s afraid to fail.
The fear of failure drove me towards success; I had too many people relying on me to not succeed.
But it seems to be the opposite for her.
I wonder if her friends call her out on it, because I know for a fact that Stella offered her a deal to sell the jacket because she called to insist that I offer the same to Nina.
I told her I’d happily give Nina the deal if only Nina asked me herself.
And that never happened.
“I’d rather be poor,” she says, “than sell out and work with someone like you.”
“Like me? You mean a fair businessman who’s giving you the opportunity of a lifetime?”
“Oh,please.Am I supposed to be grateful for yourcharity?”
Ahh, so that’s why she’s worked up. She doesn’t want a handout. But can’t she see that it’s not a handout but something well deserved?
“Charity?” I scoff.“More like an investment.I see your potential, and I’m willing to bet on it. The question is, are you willing to bet on yourself?”
“I bet on myself every day, but that doesn’t change my answer. I don’t want to work with you. ”
“Whatever you say.”
“It’s true.”
“Keep telling yourself that. In the meantime, can you make me a shirt like yours?” Maybe if she starts with something small, she’ll be more inclined to take the franchising deal later on. My gut says she wants it, but something is holding her back.
“Why?” she asks skeptically.
“I want to wear it to my meetings this week and help me close some deals.” I almost smile, imagining what Will from Stonehaven would’ve thought if he saw me wearing a shirt like that. At least then he’d have a real reason to claim a difference in branding between our companies.
Her mouth drops open in shock before snapping shut. “Definitely not. This is a custom piece only for me.”
She glares at me, as if what I asked was an impossibility.
The urge to smile strikes me once again.
It’s only six in the morning, and this is the most fun I’ve had before starting my workday.
It’s like all my work issues disappear when I talk to Nina.
I’m not sure why that happens, but I like it. More than I should.