Chapter 7 Wren
WREN
What. The. Fuck.
What on God’s good green Earth was that?
My legs feel like rubber. My heart rate hasn’t come down yet. I’m still panting like a damn dog.
But somehow, I feel a little bit lighter. I know, in reality, I have a huge job to handle in less than twenty-four hours.
But right now, all I hear, see, and feel…is him.
I lie on the couch, recovering for a little while, until I hear my phone ding on my counter. I walk over and grab it.
Remember, if you need them tomorrow, they will be there. And I’ll be checking in.
I look down at the text for a moment. I feel flattered that he’s worried about my well-being, but being that my body is still tingling from his, there’s a part of me that’s a little disappointed that we went right from that to this.
I sigh. Just as I’m about to write something back that’s equally as tame, my phone goes off again.
I love the way you taste, by the way.
My mouth drops open.
There it is. That’s what I was looking for.
I feel myself get wet again as I smile like an idiot and bite my bottom lip.
Fuck, he’s hot.
Thank you. I’ll text if I need anything, I say, sending it off. Then I send another one.
I still can’t feel my legs.
I see the three dots pop up then go away. Then they pop up again.
Good. Get some rest. Maybe you’ll dream of me.
The next morning, I’m a nervous fucking wreck.
I have on my outfit from Teresa’s that made me feel like I could conquer the world yesterday.
But today, it makes me feel like an imposter.
Like a fake grown-up. A fraud. My hair is falling flat, my makeup just isn’t right, and I feel a little softer than I normally do.
Nothing about me is giving confidence, and it has me chomping on my thumbnail as I sit in my apartment, my knee traveling at a hundred bounces a minute.
The Everetts insisted on paying for and arranging everything today. They have a car coming to pick me up, but not one of theirs. Something a little more inconspicuous. The brothers are going to be waiting in the garage for me. Then we are supposed to have a debrief lunch afterward.
It all feels like a lot.
And I can’t escape from the anxiety and sadness I feel over Brooks not being here today. It makes me feel that much more uneasy that the trouble brother, who has come to be my comfort brother, won’t be in attendance.
I draw in a long breath, and a knock on my door makes me jump. I look at the time. The car isn’t supposed to be here for another half-hour, and that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I look through the peephole, and I see Eddie, Brooks’s driver. He’s standing in the hallway with a bouquet of flowers and a paper coffee cup. I open the door.
“Eddie?” I ask.
He smiles, hands me the flowers, then the cup, then holds up his phone.
I see Brooks on the other end, smiling. He’s outside, somewhere loud.
“Morning, Sunshine,” he says. That smile could calm me down on the edge of a damn cliff.
“Hi,” I say, looking at the roses and the coffee then back to him.
“It’s a flat white,” he says, “which I didn’t know was a thing until you. Wasn’t sure what flowers you liked, so roses seemed safest. I’m about to board the jet, but I just wanted you to know that you’re on my mind. And that you’re going to kill it today.”
The gesture almost makes me weak.
I can probably count the number of times I’ve been told that in my life.
You’re on my mind.
“Thank you, Brooks,” I say, suddenly aware that poor Eddie is the host of this mushy little session we’re having. I clear my throat. “I hope your meeting is quick and painless.”
He winks at me.
“I’ll be in touch,” he says. “Go get ‘em.” He hangs up.
“I’ll be downstairs whenever you’re ready,” Eddie says then turns and heads back downstairs. I go back inside and put the roses in water, setting them in my window and admiring their deep-red color.
And as I’m sitting here, preparing to go meet one of the most dangerous men in the world, I realize that I might be falling for his son.
Twenty minutes later, Eddie and I are almost at the address Cato’s assistant sent in the email.
It’s not headquarters but one of Everett Enterprises' smaller satellite buildings. Not done on accident, I’m sure.
We follow the instructions to pull into the garage and make an immediate right.
There is a gate and an attendant who asks for my name then lets us by when he hears it.
Eddie finds an open spot and pulls in. He gets out and walks around, looking me in my eyes.
He’s older, maybe fifties, with tufts of gray hair mixed in with dark brown.
This is the first time I’ve really looked at him.
“I don’t know all that’s going on, Miss Wright,” he says. “But I know that you’re going to great lengths to stop some bad people from doing more bad things. And it’s an honor to be here with you while you do. Give ‘em hell,” he says. I smile as I take his hand, giving him a squeeze.
I might not believe in myself right now, but Eddie does, so that’s something.
“Thanks, Eddie.”
“I’ll be right here,” he says with a nod as I walk toward the service elevator that I was instructed to get on.
Fuck. Elevators suck in general. But give me an even smaller, dusty, old elevator in a dusty, old building, and that’s even worse.
But I shake my head and close my eyes as I press the “five” button. I refuse to let an elevator be my downfall today.
After what feels like a thirty-minute elevator ride, the doors open, and I draw in my last breath before I can’t go back.
This is it.
I step out, and there is a single desk sitting in the lobby.
No one is sitting at it, but a woman rounds the corner, looking down at some papers when she sees me.
She’s probably around my age, with bright-red hair and bright-red lips.
She has fantastic boobs, accentuated by the very low-cut shirt she’s wearing that’s tucked into the very tight skirt she’s wearing.
“Good morning!” she says in a sing-song voice. I smile and put on my best poker face.
“Good morning,” I say. “I’m here for an interview.”
“Oh, great!” she says, walking behind the desk, and I realize she has a bit of a Southern accent. I think of the criteria.
Not from the area.
Young.
Hot.
She checks a lot of Cato’s disgusting boxes.
She picks up a phone and dials an extension, mumbles a few things into the phone, then hangs it up.
“Right this way,” she says, leading me down the hallway. We pass some cubicles and a few offices, and I notice that the suite is oddly empty. I swallow. This is weird.
She knocks on a door, and we wait for a beat before a sultry voice calls out.
“Come in,” he says, and she opens the door, showing me inside.
And then I see him for the first time. Cato Everett.
The third richest man on the planet. Dangerous.
A predator. But in this moment, the first thing I notice is how striking he is.
Julian looks so much like him, which I know he resents.
But so does Brooks. Despite having more of his mom’s looks, he definitely has some of Cato’s features.
Like his thick, dark eyebrows, the shape of his eyes, his tan skin.
Overwhelming, oozing confidence.
I swallow and enter the room behind her as I feel his gaze on me, looking me up and down, already sizing me up. Out of the corner of my eye, I see another man sitting in a chair across from Cato’s desk.
As we approach, Cato stands, and I remember my mission.
I slap a smile on my face. I suck in my stomach and push my boobs out.
I put on my friendly, happy-go-lucky look.
I remember how I felt when I first put this outfit on yesterday.
I remember how badass I felt this morning when Brooks told me he knew I could do it.
And now, I know I can do it too.
“Hi, Mr. Everett,” I say, sticking out a hand. “It is an absolute honor to meet you.”
Play it cool, Wren, I remind myself. It has to be the perfect balance of flattery and professionalism.
“Wren, is it?” he asks, taking my hand in his. We hold eye contact for a moment as I nod.
“Yes,” I say. “I was so excited to hear back from your office. This sounds like such an amazing opportunity.”
I see a glance exchanged between him and the other man. Then he turns back to me.
“Your resume checked quite a few boxes,” he says. “This is Larry, my assistant director of human resources. But he’s more like my right-hand man.”
I turn to Larry and smile, holding out a hand for him.
There’s something different about the way he looks at me than the way Cato looks at me.
He’s sloppier about his stares. He lets his eyes linger on my hips and boobs longer than Cato does.
He has no qualms with taking me all in. Cato clears his throat, though, and Larry snaps to attention as he shakes my hand.
“Pleasure, Ms. Wright,” he says.
“Please, sit,” Cato says, pointing to the chair behind me.
I feel my skirt rise up my thighs a bit as I do, but I decide not to fix it. And like a fly to honey, I feel Larry’s eyes on my legs in an instant.
Right where I want him.
“So, Wren,” Cato says, sitting back in his huge leather office chair, “tell us about yourself. It looks like you’re fairly green, huh?”
I clear my throat.
“Oh, yes, sir,” I say, keeping the pep in my voice. “I’ve had a few internships and some freelance jobs, but the job market is a little tough.”
“That’s for sure,” Cato says, scanning my resume in front of him. “And what made you interested in this particular position?”
“Well,” I say, thinking back to my training with the boys, “I am really looking for my next step, and I’d love to take that somewhere where there is experience.
Mr. Everett, you obviously know how to run a business and run it well, and I trust your leadership.
I know that the people I would meet here will also be knowledgeable.
The possibilities just seem endless here for someone like me. ”
Balance cluelessness and naivete with flattery.
“And who is ‘someone like you’?” he asks.