Chapter 25 #3
I grinned. He was just as cute as his car—meaning, he was freaking adorable, sexy, gorgeous, and…
and I was getting carried away. I needed to stop tripping down the hill before I fell hard.
This had a time limit—a week and a bit—and he wasn’t perfect because no one was.
I’d do best to remember that my heart eyes were just hormones, chemicals designed by nature to ensure the species continued.
If it wasn’t for those chemicals, Mark would still be a virgin because no self-respecting woman would fall for his shit. “You think they fear you?”
“Not really, but they do sit straighter when I walk past, and so they should. I’m not an ogre, but I expect the best from my employees. I don’t see the point of aiming for mediocre.”
“Can’t argue with that.” I wanted to ask him about his family, his relationship with his father, but he put his turn signal on and turned from 3rd Avenue into a side street.
He stopped with his turn signal on and pressed a remote.
We waited for the garage door to open and for people to cross in front of us.
The building was nice, but it wasn’t quite what I expected.
The automatic door opened, and we drove under some scaffolding—that seemed to be on every third building in this city—and entered. “I have a car space here, but my building’s around the corner.” Ah, that explained it.
“Oh my God, you have to walk to your apartment?! The shock and horror.” I opened my mouth and eyes wide, as if I’d never heard anything so preposterous. He laughed.
“Well, when you live in a nineteen-twenties building, you have to make compromises. Even rich people can’t have everything. We’re hard done by sometimes too.” He gave me a mock sad look, and it was my turn to laugh.
He parked, and we got out, and by the time I shut my door, he was standing next to me. “I was going to open your door.”
“Thanks, but I can open my own door. Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture. You’ve been spoiling me with all the door-opening stuff. You don’t have to keep doing it.”
His brows rose. “Like hell I don’t.” He stepped closer, putting the toe of one polished, black shoe between my feet.
My chest was almost pressed against him, he was that close.
His ebony pupils had banished most of the blue from his irises.
I held my breath as he said, “If I want to ‘spoil’ you, I will. Since when is opening doors for a woman spoiling her?” He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb across my bottom lip, just as he had in his office.
“You haven’t begun to learn what spoiling is. ”
Excuse me while I fainted. There was no blood left in my head—it had all rushed to my vagina. “Mmhmm.” That was all I had. He’d rendered me incapable of forming words.
His eyes were warm, and he wore a half smile when he said, “Let’s go.
The sooner we get to my place, the sooner we can get to work.
” He put his hand on my lower back, gently corralling me to a door to a hallway that led outside.
It was all I could do not to sink into his touch. It was embarrassing how easy I was.
His place was just around the corner in 5th Avenue. I craned my neck and peered up at the many stories of the grand building across from Central Park.
Of course he lived in one of the most expensive buildings in New York City, and of course he had parking, even if it was around the corner.
And here I was, with no car and sleeping in a friend’s spare room.
We were from totally different worlds. But that was fine.
Instead of having a pity party, I was going to enjoy my short time in the world of the half a percent.
It would do my marketing chops good, too, since I could get a true vibe of what ultrarich people had and wanted.
There was nothing like immersing yourself in a demographic to get a feel for how to talk to them.
Mark was rich, but he wasn’t anywhere near Curtis’s level.
In fact, compared to Curtis, Mark was middle-class.
That shouldn’t make me smile, but it did.
He greeted the doorman and introduced us, then led me to the elevator.
Inside, he swiped a small security disk and pressed the top floor.
I smooshed my laptop bag into my chest as we rose and then stopped smoothly.
The doors opened directly into a bright foyer with honey-colored herringbone wood floors and white walls.
Two human-sized abstract paintings framed the vestibule, one to our right and one to our left.
Vivid colors splashed across the canvases in what looked loosely like a spray of flowers, at least to me.
Maybe they were supposed to be cars zooming past or just brush strokes with no meaning.
I often thought abstract painters were having a joke with all the know-it-alls who loved to deconstruct the meaning while cradling expensive Champagne in crystal flutes.
The paintings were pleasant to look at, though, the hues bringing life to the otherwise neutrally colored space.
He took my coat and hung it in a discrete closet that blended in with the wall, then coaxed me through a wide double doorway and into a cozier space, which had the same expensive floors, but that was where the similarities ended.
It was almost as if we hadn’t entered Curtis’s space until we’d walked over that threshold.
The evening windows of the New York skyline, like a pattern of static fireflies, were visible across the park from large, hip-height-to-ceiling windows.
Central Park was in the darkness below, so the view would be spectacular night or day, but I did prefer the twinkling illumination of evening.
There was something intimate and comforting in the lights that shone from hundreds of apartments and homes where people young and old sat down to dinner or to watch TV, settling in for the night where they were safe and warm.
I turned and peered around. The walls and built-in bookshelves were painted an almost black peacock blue.
Wall sconces threw tempered light up to the ceiling while dimmed downlights in the center of the ceiling squares between the white-plastered, coffered ceiling beams threw soft light around the room, which spilled over two plush, scarlet lounges.
Velvet cushions the color of the lounge and walls were strategically placed along the couches, which were side-on to the windows, facing the wall of bookshelves and centered fireplace and TV.
“Wow. This is lush and cozy. If I had this place, I’d never go out. How do you drag yourself into work every day?”
“When you put it like that, I don’t really know.
Actually, I do. I have a home office, but I focus better at headquarters.
” That didn’t surprise me—in fact, it impressed me.
He seemed like a driven man, especially knowing that he was fighting his father a lot of the way.
Where he found the energy for that and running a massive company, I had no idea, especially when he was rich enough to not work at all.
“My father also expects me to lead by example—if the employees see me working my ass off, they will too.” He shrugged.
“There aren’t many things we agree on, but that’s one.
” He breathed out a resigned sigh. “Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to discuss my difficult relationship with my father. We have a lot of work to cover.”
I am not going to be disappointed if we don’t have sex.
Repeat after me, vagina. His job was on the line, and I didn’t want to be responsible for two people being out of work, even though he could afford to be, in a monetary sense.
But it was an issue of pride, of proving someone wrong, someone who should’ve had his back but instead was happy to believe the worst about him.
“I’ve got your back… Mr. Knight.” Argh, were we on a first-name basis, or was he my boss while we worked and Curtis when we, you know… ?
He chuckled. “I think you can call me Curtis, unless you have a formality kink.” He held his hand up. “These fingers have been inside you.”
My eyes widened. He did not! The blood vessels in my cheeks were ready to explode. Were normal people really this open about sex? I cleared my throat to kickstart my startled voice. “Um, yes… they have.”
Concern etched in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. “You don’t regret it, do you?”
I swallowed. “No! Of course not. I’m just a bit…
not used to talking about this stuff after the fact.
I’ve never been with anyone who was so open about discussing it.
If I didn’t want it to happen, I would’ve said no.
Promise. You’ll always know where you stand with me.
” Mark probably didn’t want to discuss it after the fact because he didn’t care whether I got off or not, and he didn’t want me criticizing him.
Whatever, he was old news. I had the orgasm whisperer for a while, and I was going to take full advantage.
“I loved everything about what happened in your office, except the part where you didn’t have a happy ending. ”
He laughed. “A happy ending. Isn’t that what they have in romance novels?”
It was my turn to laugh. “That’s a different kind of happy ending. Well, I guess they have both.”
“At the risk of changing the subject, would you like anything to eat or drink before we get started?”
In my nervousness about tonight, I hadn’t had anything to eat before he picked me up. “I am a bit hungry, actually. I’ll eat just about anything, except offal, snails, and frogs.”
His dimples flashed with amusement. “What do you think I am?”
“A super rich guy. Don’t you all eat ridiculous food just because it’s exotic and expensive?” I was joking around. I didn’t really think that. “Although I can get onboard with caviar and smoked salmon. So if that’s your poison, don’t let me stop you.” I grinned.
He shook his head, still smiling. “How does Thai food sound? Are you okay with spice?”
“Yep. Sounds excellent. And I’m happy to pay my share. I don’t expect you to pay for everything.” I didn’t want him to think I was a freeloader. I’d made a joke about rich people, but I hated taking advantage. It wasn’t me.
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is a work meeting. It’ll go on the company credit card. And before you say anything, it’s in your contract that you get dinner when working after six.”
I frowned. “No it’s not.” I’d written it myself, so I knew.
He pointed to his leather carry-all. “I’ve attached an addendum. There are also donuts at eleven and lunch at one. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” He looked very pleased with himself.
I rolled my eyes. “You had me at donuts. Fine. You win.”
He smirked. “Always.”
Where I was concerned, I didn’t doubt it. It would be a miracle if I survived the end of this without torn knees, a bleeding forehead, skinned palms, and a bruised heart.
The fall was going to be straight onto concrete from a great height. They were going to have to scrape me off the pavement. I guessed there were worse ways to go, and at least the fall was going to be a heck of an experience.