Chapter 8
IKE
What have I done? What have I fucking done? As soon as I hear the glass breaking outside my office door, I know it’s Caroline. And I know she heard what she shouldn’t have.
I thought I would make her a surprise. As I lay awake this morning, coming up with this plan, I thought I’d have everything ready by the time she got to her feet. Instead, she overheard me, and the lack of context will be my doom.
“Mr. Jackson?” Joan calls from the other side of the line. “Is everything alright? I thought you weren’t at the office.”
I halt, pressing my phone to my ear. “What? I’m not.”
“Why is Caroline Hill with you then?”
Anger at the prodding question and at myself rises in my stomach.
“How is that your business, Joan? Just do what I asked you and get the papers ready.” And I hang up, shoving my phone into my pants pockets, then remembering I’m still in boxers and just letting it drop to the ground.
I hear it hitting the carpet with a soft thud behind me, but I don’t stop to check if it’s broken.
There’s something much more important I need to fix.
I did not hear Caroline approaching, but from her reaction, I think I know what she’s feeling.
Rejection, betrayal, hurt. She heard me telling Joan I want to fire her, and I do, but not the way she thinks.
And worse—firing her right after we fucked?
She’ll think it was all a plan, a ruse to get her in my bed.
She’ll think I do this with every intern, with every girl that comes around to work part-time for me.
And that’s the exact opposite. What I feel for Caroline is totally new. The plans I make for the two of us I’ve never made before. Everything is the first time for me, and I cannot screw up. This cannot end like this.
I rush after her, following the sound of her footsteps back to the room. Thank God she hasn’t run out of the apartment. I would have to either stop to grab my pants and waste precious time or follow her into the street in my boxers and embarrass her.
Caroline enters the room, and I catch the sound of sobs. Each one of them is a knife to my chest, twisting, digging deeper. I hurt her. It was me, my stupidity, my lack of proper planning. She crosses the threshold and slams the door closed. I halt to a stop.
She hasn’t locked it, and I could barge in, but I don’t. I give her space; I give her a moment. Pressing my forehead to the door, I hear her cries, and I pray this won’t be the end.
“Caroline,” I murmur. She doesn’t respond, her feet going back and forth inside the room.
“My love.” This time, she stops. It’s my chance.
Say the right words, dammit. No clichés, no ‘let me explain’ or ‘it’s not what you think.
’ There is no time. “Give me a moment to explain. I promise it’s nothing bad. ”
She stomps closer. “Not bad? You used me. Was all of this an act? The moment I give you my virginity, you fire me. Things are very clear, Ike. Mr. Jackson. Whatever.”
I bump my forehead on the door. “Remember I told you how good your comics were?”
“Yeah,” she replies with a scoff. “That I should ‘do something about it.’”
“You should. And that’s why I’m taking you off the company. You can do so much more.”
“Oh, yeah, because I’m only good enough for a fuck.”
“God, Caroline, if I loved you less, maybe I could be more patient. Please, open the door.”
And I stay there, eyes clamped shut, my heart in my throat, waiting. Waiting and waiting for her to reach back to me, for her to give me a chance to apologize.
Caroline’s soft steps approach. With bated breath, I pray for her to open the door.
She does. Her eyes are red and swollen, and tears still streak down her cheeks. The sight of them kills me. I drop to my knees in front of her, reaching out to grip her hips.
“I am so sorry, my love,” I say, emotion making my voice thick. “So sorry. I’m not good with words, and I can’t explain how much I regret not telling you this before. I thought it would be a good surprise.”
She swallows, but she allows me to hold her. “What would?”
“Your comics are amazing, Caroline. They only need the right investment to take off. I want to support you. That’s why I need you off the business.
I need you to focus on your career, your degree, and your art.
Your art is too good to be tucked in a small Tumblr blog, my love.
Let me help you grow. Let me give you the tools. ”
Her lips part, brows furrowing. “You want to invest in me? Why?”
“You’re good at what you do, my love. So good. The people who find you love you. They relate to your stories, and they cheer you on. All you need is the right push, a big window for people to see your work, and you’ll take off. I know it.”
Her chest moves up and down rapidly. “Why would you do that? What you said can’t be true.”
“What did I say?”
“That you love me,” she says, her voice coming out tiny.
I press her to me, and even on my knees, she’s so small and I’m so big we’re still face-to-face.
“My love. I love you so much I can’t even describe it.
I’ve never felt like this. No one ever captured my heart this hard, this fast. It’s you, Caroline.
This is all you. You bewitched me. You bespelled me.
I can’t live another day without you.” I give her a moment to absorb it all, her eyes wide, her fingers trembling.
“Say you’ll be mine, Caroline. End this torture. ”
And, slowly, a beautiful smile takes over her face.
She nods once, and I sigh in relief. Caroline cups my face in her hands and kisses me, kisses me in that sweet and hot way she does that makes my body buzz with unspent lust. It doesn’t help she’s half-naked, but I won’t fuck her now. First, I’ll make sure she believes me.
She pulls back and I get to my feet. “I’ll take the offer, and just because I’m in love with you too.” I open my mouth, a smile stretching my lips, but she cuts me off, wiping her tears away. “With one condition.”
“Anything.”
She stops me with a finger to my lips. “When it’s something about me, please, consult me first.”
I chuckle. “That’s a promise.” And I hold her close and bring her up in my arms, sweeping her off her feet and swirling with her. “Anything, my love. I’ll do anything for you to be mine.” And I kiss her smiling lips, a wordless oath I’ll forever treasure. Adore her.
The way she deserves.