Chapter 33
33
I ADDRESS YOU AS ROYALTY AND YOU ADDRESS ME AS A PIECE OF brEAD
I didn’t realize that Head of P.R. was a euphemism for head of staff but if there is anyone that can wear that many hats it’s Emily. It’s been a busy three days working with her and I’m exhausted. This is the first time I’ve been left alone for more than five minutes without someone interrupting Emily with urgent business that needed decisions to be made by yours truly.
In the silence, I run a finger along the edge of the shiny glass desk I’m seated at. This desk used to intimidate me so much when I used to see my father sitting behind it. His body and his energy took up so much space that you felt like you were a subject standing before your king. Now I’m sitting here, staring out at what he saw, but I don’t feel like a queen.
I feel like a fraud .
What was I thinking taking this on?
Stupid Riley.
He was the one that made me believe I could do this. He has a way of making me feel like I can do anything. Then when I take the leap, he’s nowhere to be found. It’s been three days since I’ve heard from him. The last time we talked was the night we were together followed by dinner with my parents. Nothing seemed off when he dropped me off. He even seemed normal when we texted while I was with Sam and Lauren.
I’m trying really hard to not read into it and just be relaxed about it all. We never said this changed anything between our agreement. Sure, we hooked up which ultimately broke rule three in this ridiculous arrangement, but that doesn’t mean we’re dating now. He owes me no explanation as to why he’s been M.I.A.. And I don’t have the right to demand one.
I lean my hand back against the high neck rest of a new sleek white leather desk chair that I requested to replace the large gaudy black one my father used for the better part of the last decade. Letting out a sigh as I turn my head to admire the view from my window. If you can even consider it a window, but using the phrase admire the view from my wall just doesn’t have the same ring to it. That’s what it is though. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall windows.
My father knew what he was doing when he built this space for his office. This view of Charlotte, The Queen City herself, and all of her concrete high rises just fills you with a dose of endorphins being so near to them in the sky that you forget that you’re drowning in responsibilities every day. I take a deep breath in as I stare outside. The sun is glimmering off the different colored glass panes on every building so perfectly that it’s causing an array of rainbow to be reflected around the city. I let out that breath and remember why it’s me in this chair, in this room, and in this position.
I was born for this.
I don’t have anymore time to wallow in self pity or self deprecation. I did that for too long. I went so far as to quit my job here, staying away for three years working at a job that was always beneath my capabilities, and believed my own fears. I let my fear of other people’s judgment of me and what I thought they’d say if I was C.E.O. instead of my father dictate my choices.
And I still ended up as C.E.O. so the jokes on me. There isn’t a choice anymore. I’m already here, and if I got my head out of my ass for a minute I’d realize I never wanted another choice. I love this place. I grew up in this place. The four walls of this company and the knowledge to run it has been with me my whole life. My father taught me everything I needed to know and the things I didn’t? He made sure the company was equipped with the right people to help fill the gap.
I still would’ve liked to have Riley around though. He’s been a comforting presence in my life especially with everything changing so fast. Between the changes with my parents and my job, he seemed to be the only constant.
Seemed.
Nope. No. I’m not going there. He’s just busy and we aren’t actually dating. It’s been three days, not three years. I don’t get to go all love sick puppy on him.
“Amelia?” My assistant’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “A Mr. Riley Anderson is here to see you? He doesn’t have an appointment but he said you’d say it was ok.”
Well speak of the devil.
“Yes, please send him in. Thanks Scarlett.” As she nods her head in acknowledgment I notice a rosy hue to her cheeks. Riley probably had a little to do with that slight blush now permanently glued on her face.
Not a moment later, in strolls the man that has plagued my every free thought since I last saw him. He’s wearing a light gray suit, tailored to perfection, baby blue button down, and a knitted tie. His dark brown hair in a perfectly styled mess and a smile that quite literally steals my breath away.
“Hi, Princess.” He greets me casually as he walks to stand near the wall of windows to my right.
“Don’t get too close. I can’t guarantee the sturdiness of those windows.” I warn with humor.
He turns towards me, his eyes roam the length of my body and it makes my stomach clench. I haven’t shifted in my seat. My head is still against the headrest and body slumped in an unprofessional posture.
“You look tired.”
“Gee. That’s what every woman likes to hear in the middle of the day.”
Riley grabs the client chair from the other side of my desk and drags it over to my side next to me before leaning over and grabbing the arms of my chair to turn towards him and the rearranged seat.
“What are you doing?” I ask, raising my brow in question.
He moves his hands from the arm rest to my waist as he sits down in his chair before gliding down the side of my thighs. His hands reach the bare skin at the hem of my dress and goosebumps erupt at the sudden feeling of skin on skin.
“Riley.” I warn.
I’m not even sure what I am warning him of. We are inside my office which is literally made of glass so I should get him to stop whatever he’s doing but I don’t want him to stop bad enough to physically make him because I need to know where his mind is going.
One hand removes itself from my right leg to j oin his hand at my left. They glide down to remove my stiletto heel before a hand grips my ankle and a thumb puts pressure at the arch of my foot.
I let out an indecent moan as his thumb works its way from the arch to the heel.
“You might want to keep quiet, Princess. People might get the wrong idea.” Riley practically purrs as he pushes against me.
I can’t help it. The feel of this massage beats any dirty thoughts that invaded my brain a moment ago. It’s been three days of walking ten thousand steps in four inch stiletto heels all day. At some point my feet stopped telling me they were hurting and just started going numb. Everything about his touch right now makes me feel like I could trade this feeling for sex any day.
Riley places my foot on the ground as he grabs the other. “What are you thinking about? You’re smirking like someone with an evil plan.”
“I was just thinking how I would,” I let out a sigh as he put a bit more pressure against the arch where it’s been angled at an unnatural angle for too long, “trade this for sex.”
My body’s jerked forward as my foot’s dropped to the ground abruptly. “Hey!” I exclaim.
“Yeah, no. I’ll take sex with you any day over a foot rub.” He leans back against his seat and heat rises on my cheeks.
He didn’t just say sex. He said with me . So much for not overthinking it. I need to not read into it so I pretend like I’m not internalizing and analyzing every word. I will play it cool. I pout and place my right foot back on his lap, urging him to continue his ministrations as before, “ok not so much a trade. Unless you would like to trade a foot rub for sex.” I wink at him a s I giggle at my own joke.
He leans forward, grabs my foot as if to begin massaging but instead pulls me closer.
He lets out a low growl. “You’re treading on thin ice, Princess. I personally don’t give a shit if we give this entire city a show but I’m going to bet you’re not quite ready to become an exhibitionist.” I bite my lip at his dare and say nothing in return. “I didn’t think so.” To save me from myself, Riley offers me a smirk and a change of subject. “What are you doing Friday?”
“You’re going to have to ask Scarlett. Apparently keeping my own schedule is not allowed anymore. Why?” I ask curiously.
Riley hesitates for a moment too long. I wiggle my toes in his hand to get his attention. “Why, Riley? What’s Friday?” I ask again.
He grabs my stiletto and slides it back on my foot as if I’m Cinderella before placing my foot back down on the ground with more gracefulness than the last time. Leaning back in the chair as he unbuttons his suit jacket, “my brother’s engagement party is on Friday. My presence is required. You don’t have to come, there will be a building full of stuck up lawyers, a deadbeat brother and ex-girlfriend, and the world's worst case of two face-ism.”
“One, two face-ism isn’t a word,” I giggle, “and two, why are you required to go? You don’t owe them anything. Least of all your support in this mockery of a relationship.”
Riley sighs. “Evidently the choice of attendance isn’t mine to make.”
I lean over and place my hand on his right thigh. “I’ll be there Rye. Just give me the details.” I offer a sympathetic smile to let him know I’ll be there for him physically and emotionally.
“You know I still hate that nickname right?” He responds with an annoyed smile.
“Well your nickname will grow on you. Trust me. It did for me.” I smile before leaning back in my chair.
“Yeah, easy for you to say. I address you as royalty and you address me as a piece of bread.”
I can’t help but laugh. This is the feeling I’ve missed since I haven’t talked to him. This is why three days feels like three weeks without him. He brings a lightness to my life that is missing when he is. I can’t help but imagine what life would be like if I suggested we take the step from fake dating to normal, every day, dating, but this isn’t the time to bring it up. The idea of going to support his brother marrying his ex-girlfriend is weighing on him and the least I can do is not add on to that burden.
“Amelia, you’re going to be late if you don't hurry and get dressed. The driver is downstairs waiting for you.” I glance up from my computer and see Scarlett at my door holding up a garment bag.
Shit .
“What time is it?” I say frantically.
“It’s five twenty.”
Double shit .
Riley’s brother’s engagement party starts in forty minutes. Which means I have about twenty minutes to change and get into the car downstairs. Even that’s cutting it with usual traffic around this time. I slam my computer shut in a hurry, run over to grab the garment bag out of Scarlett’s waiting hands, before dashing into the attached bathroom.
When the door clicks shut, the overhead lights turn on, illuminating the marble bathroom in a soft glow. I kick off my work stilettos and step out of my dress before pulling down the zipper to the garment bag.
“Scarlett?” I ask in a loud enough voice that she can hear me from the other side.
“Yes?” she replies.
“What were the details that Riley sent over exactly?”
I listen to her from the other side of the door as I stare at the dress in front of me. “Six P.M. Waverly Place. Black tie.”
Black tie.
That explains why I’m staring at a floor length, emerald green, one shouldered gown, with sheer fabric draped down the back of the one strap that I’m assuming will fan out behind me as I walk instead of the cocktail dress I thought was going to be in here. This is…extravagant.
I don’t have much time to argue nor do I have many other options. I quickly change into the undergarments hanging behind the dress or lack thereof. If you can even call a corset and a thong undergarments. It’s more like torture threaded together to form the illusion of undergarments.
“Ten minute warning!” Scarlett bellows.
I step into the dress and glide it up my body. Each part of the dress hugging my curves to perfection. The slit up my right thigh is just high enough to be considered sexy but still maintain the illusion of a proper lady, the silk material bunches into pleats at my right hip before wrapping up and across my chest to my left shoulder. And like I suspected, the sheer material that starts at my shoulder now fans out behind me in an elegant train.
I grab the nude strappy heels at the bottom of the garment bag noticing that these are my heels. Already broken in and my favorite to wear to any event. Clasping the straps at my ankles to secure them in place, I finally stand to take one look at myself in the floor length mirror to the right of the door.
If this dress was blue velvet instead of emerald green silk, I would feel like Princess Anastasia at the top of the stairs waiting for Dimitri. I smile, pleased with Scarlett for picking this dress out for me to wear tonight because I truly feel like a princess.
I take another five minutes to touch up my makeup, add a soft nude color to my lips, and re-powder my face, before backcombing the top of my hair to add some volume and life back into it after a full day of work.
“Time’s up, Amelia!” Scarlett warns.
I grab the Dior perfume next to the sink and spray myself before walking out of the bathroom.
“Holy shit you’re hot!” Scarlett exclaims.
“Gee, thanks. Not sure if that was because I look like shit any other day or because you’re flattered at the outfit choice you picked out for me.” I reply with a chuckle walking past her as I adjust the diamond studs in my ear.
She lets out a snicker, “I didn’t pick this dress out.”
Confused. “Then who did?” I question.
“Riley did. He dropped off this garment bag during lunch today.” I turn so quickly in shock.
Riley picked out this dress? He picked out this absolutely devastatingly gorgeous dress that literally could not have been a more perfect fit for my body, and he somehow weaseled his way into my home without a key to make sure I had my favorite heels to go with this outfit? I know he isn’t my real boyfriend, but it's these moments and these sweet gestures that could make a girl wish for more.
I shake my head. This is part of the deal. Even though he said I didn’t need to agree to come with him to these events, we agreed to be each other's stand-in significant others so maybe this dress is just a costume to play the part tonight. A part that I’m going to be severely late to play because I’m taking too damn long getting out of here.
Scarlett hands me a shawl that I won’t be using on a June day and a champagne clutch that compliments my dress before scurrying me towards the elevator. Within three minutes, I’m downstairs walking through the lobby and into the backseat of the awaiting car.
We don’t make it a block before I realize without a shadow of a doubt that I am going to be late.
In front of us is a sea of red brake lights.