Chapter 7
Zach
The sun streaming in through the bedroom window of my hotel suite has me grabbing a pillow and shoving it onto my face. I don’t mind late nights, but my brain just would not shut down after my non-date with Marina last night. Her beautiful face, fixed in that adorably stern expression when she was scolding me for calling our impromptu dinner a date pops into my head, and a wide grin spreads on my face. That spontaneous duet on the bridge was a gateway drug. Spending time with her yesterday only made me want even more. I even had a dream about her last night. We were on the bridge again, but this time, she didn’t try to run away from me at every turn.
I groan, roll out of bed, pad across the plush hotel carpet to the window, and throw back the curtains. The city of San Francisco is laid before me, bathed in sunshine as people rush around the streets and go about the day’s business. I glance at the clock. It’s 10:30, so Marina is already at work. I wonder if she’s having a good day. From our limited conversation about her work environment, I gather it’s quite a challenge but one she’s willing to endure. Last night, after I got her to agree to a second non-date at the recording studio, she alluded to the fact that she’s part of a big project that could mean a pay rise or promotion if she does well. I know she’ll be focused on all of that this morning. In fact, she mentioned she wouldn’t even take a lunch break today. That bothers me, but it also gives me a great idea.
I grab my mobile off the nightstand and open a new text message. Marina and I exchanged numbers last night. Since we stopped at Nonno’s restaurant, she wouldn’t let me take her home. She insisted with fierce independence that she would be fine, so I insisted she text me when she got home so I’d know she was safe. Merry happened to be there and chose to back Team Zach in the mobile number debate, so I won. Thankfully. And Marina did, indeed, text me when she arrived home and was safe.
I think for a moment, and then begin typing.
Zach: Good morning, beautiful. Hope you’re having a great day at work. How’s the project going?
I wait a moment. Then another. Just as I’m about to give up on receiving an immediate reply, I see three little dots wiggling and smile.
Marina is typing…
Marina: Good morning. I’m still only in the research phase, really.
Zach: Still no time for lunch today?
Marina: Right. I need to read up on this prospective client, and I won’t have time after work. The girls are coming over tonight.
Zach: Lovely! You ladies seem more like sisters than friends. It’s nice to see.
Marina: They are the best. What are you doing with your day today?
I smile. She’s curious, and maybe…just maybe…starting to look at me as more than the rock star personality the media shows to the world. Whatever the case, the fact that she is not sending me curt, one-word replies is a good sign, and I’ll take it.
Zach: Me and the boys have an appearance at City By the Bay Records. We’re signing autographs until our fingers bleed.
Marina: I love that store. There’s an independent coffee house next door called Cuppa Love. I recommend everything on the menu.
I laugh out loud. As much as she tries to rein in her personality around anyone who isn’t in her inner circle, Marina has a passion for life that’s music to my soul.
Zach: Maybe you could narrow it down for me. What’s your favorite thing there?
Marina: The Fog Lifter. Their signature grind blended with cinnamon and sweet cream.
Zach: Thanks for the recommendation, Siren.
Our chat goes quiet, so I step over to the closet and grab my clothes for the day. Thankfully, the appearance in at the record shop calls for our usual attire: anything we want. I grab a pair of jeans and a henley from our first concert tour and turn on the shower. While it’s warming up, I do a quick search for Nonno’s and make an absolutely necessary call before I get ready to start my day.
***
Marina
Ethan Montclair is one smarmy dude. Ms. Taft is off-site today (which is code for the very expensive, non-inclusive spa she loves), so I’m reviewing all my research at my desk. Between the parade of women, the broken marriages, and the shady business deals he’s been involved with, I feel like taking a shower with a bottle of bleach and a wire brush. I sit back in my chair for a moment, pinching the bridge of my nose and willing myself not to get the headache I feel creeping across my skull.
I take a deep breath and stretch, looking up just in time to see Merry walking towards me with a takeout bag from Nonno’s.
What?
She smiles as she trots over to my desk, stealing a glance at Ms. Taft’s office door.
“Where’s the Evil Queen?” she whispers.
“Not here today,” I say, my stomach growling loudly when the scent of Nonno’s spaghetti hits my nostrils. I gesture at the bag. “You didn’t have to do this, but I am totally glad you did. I’m starving!”
She stifles a giggle and shakes her head. “I didn’t do it.”
I nod as I open the bag and pull out an envelope of breadsticks. “Nonno, then,” I say. “Please give him a huge hug for me.”
She shakes her head again. “Nope. Not him.”
My eyes meet Merry’s just as the realization hits me. I point a breadstick at Merry.
“No!” I gasp, wide-eyed. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
She squeals and sits in the guest chair next to my desk. “He called this morning before we opened. Nonno answered the phone before I could get to it, so be warned.”
“What?” I ask quickly. “Why?”
She grins and wiggles her eyebrows. “Nonno yelled ‘He’s a keeper!’ and sang all through kitchen prep this morning.”
We both burst out laughing. Sweet Nonno. He’s probably already planning my wedding. Merry reaches into the bag and puts a foil container of spaghetti on my desk, along with utensils and napkins, then reaches back into the bag for another container. She winks at me and stands up.
“You want me to put the canoli in the fridge?” she asks, her whole face lit up .
My mouth drops open, and I gasp, my eyes darting from the container to Merry and back again.
“He got me canoli? ” I whisper reverently.
Merry nods. “He basically asked what your favorite things are and then ordered it all.”
I take a bite of my breadstick, speechless and completely unable to control the smile spreading across my face. In my whole life, I’ve never had a man fuss over me like this. It’s kind of…nice.
Merry grabs a breadstick from the bag and takes a bite. I scoot the container of spaghetti between us.
“I can share!” I say quickly, taking the lid off. “Have lunch with me?”
She shakes her head.
“No need,” she coos. “I have to get back, but he offered me whatever I wanted on the menu. I told him I get to eat for free, so he left me a $100 tip for delivering it.”
I feel like my eyes are about to pop straight out of my head. I lower the breadstick in slow motion. Merry pats me on the shoulder.
“You’ve got a keeper!” she teases.
I try to hold in my laughter and end up snorting, causing us both to laugh out loud. I stifle my laughter quickly and wave my hand.
“No laughing!” I whisper.
Merry rolls her eyes. “These people have no souls. I’ll be right back.”
I watch her disappear into the executive break room with the canoli. Merry’s been here a few times, usually to drop off dinner for me when I was working late at night for Ms. Taft. She knows her way around the office.
I sit back in my chair and take another bite of my breadstick. The heavenly scent of the spaghetti wafts in my direction, and my stomach grumbles again. This is definitely better than the stale energy bar that’s been sitting in my desk drawer for months. Merry comes back and gives me a quick hug .
“I have to run,” she says. “Be sure to text your boyfriend to say thank you.”
I laugh again but remember to keep it down. “Very funny!”
She blows me a kiss and makes her way to the elevator as I finish my breadstick. I take the lid off the spaghetti, unwrap my utensils, then grab my phone and snap a quick picture of it. I text the picture to Zach.
Marina: The height of British chivalry. Thank you so much.
I glance at my watch. It’s nearly one o’clock. He’s probably at his appearance, surrounded by fans, but he’ll get it eventually. As I’m setting my phone down on my desk, it vibrates in my hand.
Zach: I couldn’t stand the idea of you working all day without a meal, Siren.
Who is this guy? I shake my head and sigh.
Marina: I think I can survive missing a lunch or two. :-) But this is really very sweet and I’m very grateful. How’s your autograph session going?
Zach: I broke away for a few minutes to text you back. Imagine what they would do if they knew I was standing here texting the infamous mermaid. :-)
Marina: Tease me all you want. I know my secret is safe with you.
Zach: For a chivalrous Brit, that means a great deal, my lady.
***
“He wants to what ?” Scarlet squeals, plopping onto the couch and grabbing her margarita off the coffee table.
Merry grins from her spot on the floor. “They’re disgustingly cute together,” she says with a shake of her head. “You should have heard him when he called Nonno’s this morning to order her lunch. He’s got the love bug. ”
“Guys!” I call from my perch on the couch. “Focus. This emergency conclave is for you to talk some sense into me, not encourage me to be reckless.”
Ashley shakes her head and hands me a fresh margarita. “We are trying to talk sense into you,” she insists, plopping into the middle spot on the couch beside me. “We’re trying to give you all the please date the handsome, rich rock star who can’t stop staring at you vibes.”
“He’s also a duke,” Scarlet mutters with a grin.
“He’s not a duke,” I say flatly, giving her the side-eye. “His father is a duke.”
All three of my friends look at me as if I have a horn growing out of my forehead.
Ashley nudges me with her foot, an incredulous look on her face. “He looks at you as if you’re the only woman on this planet. And he’s gorgeous. Tell me you’re not the tiniest bit curious about where this could go.”
Okay, I’ll be lying if I say I haven’t thought about it. But it’s an impossible situation. He doesn’t even live in San Francisco. How would that work? Nothing can come from this but heartbreak. My heartbreak, to be exact. And I’ve had enough heartbreak for a whole lifetime. Loving something and having it torn away from me is the worst feeling in the world. I’m not signing up for that.
“This is so romantic,” Ashley says with a grin. “He wants to take you to a recording studio? You sang together the first time you met, and then again when he surprised you at the library. He can’t get enough of your voice. You really are a siren!”
“And he’s nice , Marina,” Merry pushes, taking a sip of her drink. “Despite his celebrity status, he has a reputation for being a genuinely kind human being. And that’s not the $100 tip talking. There are stories all over social media of him helping disadvantaged people. He refuses to comment on it or use it for publicity. The stories get out from the people he helps, not from his publicist.”
I don’t watch much television. I certainly don’t watch any entertainment gossip shows, but Merry does, and I know she knows what she’s talking about. And she’s a huge fan of The Royal Rebels.
“I love that he sent you food today,” Scarlet croons. “It’s so sweet.”
All three of my friends eye me expectantly, and I feel it to my core. They would never steer me in harm’s way, and they’re very much aware of my sometimes irrational need to control things.
“I just don’t see what can come from this,” I say with a flutter to my voice. “If we do hit it off, what happens then? We’re from two completely different universes.”
Ashley meets my gaze, and I know what she’s thinking before she even opens her mouth. And she’s right. She gives me a look to encourage me to keep talking.
“And…I’m afraid…of maybe catching some feelings,” I say quietly, looking down at my hands and shaking my head.
“I get that,” Scarlet says. “But this isn’t some guy hitting on you in a bar. As much as I love it when you send those guys scurrying away with their tails between their legs, I don’t think Zach is the type to scurry away. He’s different. How do you really feel about it?”
The answer springs up immediately, even if I don’t want to admit it. I take a deep breath.
“I like him. A lot.”
Within seconds, Ash scoots over on the couch and wraps her arms around me. She doesn’t say anything, she just hugs me. Next is Scarlet, who gets up and runs around to squeeze me from behind the couch. Merry puts her drink down and scoots across the floor until she can wrap her arms around my legs.
I start to giggle. “You guys are ridiculous,” I say with a sigh and a huge smile.
“We’re proud of you,” Merry declares, her breath tickling my knee cap. “You said a brave thing.”
One by one, they let go and smile at me.
“You said a brave thing,” Ashley agrees. “And so now you can do a brave thing. Right?”
I look at her, and a pensive smile begins to form on my face. “Go out with the rich, handsome rock star?”
Merry squeals. “Yes!”
Ash and Scarlet nod their agreement.
I’m torn between cursing the absolute nuclear-strength butterflies I get any time I think of Zach and just letting them fly. Truth is, I’m intrigued by him. I want to know more about him, and not the stuff I can learn by searching the internet. I want his stories. I want his time. And I definitely want to sing with him again. Don’t get me wrong, I love singing with the girls, but there was something about that moment on the bridge when our voices came together so effortlessly. Even at the library, with a song as simple as “You Are My Sunshine”, we sounded beautiful together. I loved every minute of it.
Okay, so maybe I’ve been building boundaries for so long I’ve forgotten how to open the door once in a while to let someone in. One thing’s for sure: just thinking about opening up to someone new is petrifying. Which is exactly why I know I need to push myself just a little bit. The truth is I’ve survived a lot more than the average twenty-three-year-old, so I can survive a date with Zach Adams.
Can’t I?
I guess I’ll find out tomorrow after work.
***
For anyone else, a day at one of the most luxurious spas in the city would put a smile on their face. Not Ms. Taft. She rolled into the office this morning, looking like someone took her Birkin bag and threw it into the bay. She barked orders at all of us all morning, went for a long lunch, and she stomped back into her office an hour ago. She’s been in there ever since. I have strict instructions not to allow any visitors.
I have my favorite notebook out, and I’m writing a chronological to-do list for the big meeting when two paralegals come out of the executive kitchen and chat over their freshly refilled coffee mugs.
“It’s probably not even someone local,” Janie whispers. “Maybe she was driving into the city for some kind of publicity thing or modeling gig and ended up being in the right place at the right time.”
“Whoever she is, it’s such a fun story,” her friend Allison answers. “Zach Adams is so gorgeous. And he just walked away with her in his arms like that kind of thing happens every day.”
Both women laugh. I focus on my computer and keep a neutral expression on my face. Everyone knows I don’t participate in office gossip, but I don’t want to invite them to include me by making eye contact and seeming interested. But I am interested. More than I should be.
“I hope it wasn’t a publicity stunt,” Janie continues. “I’m such a romantic.”
“Me too, girl.” Allison giggles as they wander back to their desks. “Something like that just randomly happening? It feels like it was meant to be.”
“Yes!” Janie squeals. “I wish we knew who she was. I’d love to see an interview with her.”
“With both of them…”
They’re a safe enough distance away for me to let out a quiet laugh. Imagine what they would think if they knew the all-business, never-chatty executive assistant to Ms. Taft was the mermaid at the heart of the viral video everyone is talking about. This is the third conversation about it I’ve overheard today. It feels like the story is gaining momentum, not calming down.
My head is screaming at me to text Zach and cancel our date. People are still too interested in the story. It’s a risk I shouldn’t be taking, especially in the middle of the Montclair deal. Ms. Taft is depending on me. If I pull this off, I can take a huge step towards law school. I shouldn’t even have to think about it.
My gut, though, disagrees. And my heart. They’ve teamed up and have decided that my head doesn’t need to be involved in making decisions about Zach. I can’t explain it except to think this has never happened to me. I have no idea what I’m doing, which is unlike me. And there’s a very real part of me who doesn’t care, which is very unlike me. The only thing I can say is that any time I’m around Zach, I feel a pull. He calls me Siren, claiming that my voice lured him out of the bus that day—but he’s like a rip tide, pulling me farther and farther out. All I know is that, right now, my curiosity has more power than my instincts for self-preservation. I only hope this doesn’t end with me being pulled so far away from shore that I can never get back.