9. Chelsea
CHELSEA
Irush out of the room, like the devil is on my heels, moving unseeingly through the hallway. Thankfully, muscle memory or some kind of divine grace takes me to the bathroom, and I close the door behind me, before pushing my back against it, and drawing in deep breaths.
There still doesn’t seem to be enough air filling my lungs, no matter how hard I breathe.
What. The. Fuck.
What are they doing here? I mean, logically, I know the answer to that question. They’re the ones that James is going to be merging his company with. The ones with whom I will be working closely to navigate the marketing of the merger.
What kind of cruel fate is this?
I truly thought I would never see them again.
NYC is a big city, and so I figured…I mean, maybe I should have asked more questions on that first night, like who they were or what they did.
Or God, their last names. If I had, I would have probably avoided this situation because I would have known exactly whose name was on the contracts and presentations.
I would have seen Mr. Edward, O'Neill, and McCarthy on the marketing plan and promptly handed it over to Stacey to handle it.
I wonder if it’s too late to do it now. And what excuse am I going to give my brother for that, because I know he’s going to ask. The curiosity already gleamed in his gaze when he looked between us, when it was clear that we knew each other. He’s curious about my reaction.
I can be awkward meeting strangers, but I’m not usually that uncomfortable. I don't fumble over my words like that and generally make a fool of myself in front of clients. So James definitely knows something is up.
Plus, the dirty looks he was shooting Adonis.
Jake. His name is Jake.
I hear footsteps on the other side of the door and get my back off it, in time for the door to open. I head to the sink as someone enters and says, “Oh, you’re here. Nice. How was the meeting?”
“It was good." My voice sounds too squeaky, so I clear my throat and make a show of washing my hands. “Great, actually. We've pretty much decided on the budget, and we're going to start jumping into the execution stage soon."
“That’s nice." Stacey, one of the marketing agents, comes to stand beside me, also washing her hands. “I won’t lie, I was super jealous when I heard you would be handling that gig.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m sure you can understand why every hot-blooded woman in this building would want to be on it, right?” She winks at me in the mirror. “The men are dangerously sexy.”
“Oh.” I clear my throat, feeling my face flush. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Liar," she says. “I’m sure that’s why you're in here, face red as a tomato, washing your hands so many times they’re going to start pruning soon."
I yank my hand away from the spray and turn it off. She’s right. It is starting to dimple.
She chuckles. “Don’t feel too bad. The first time I met them, I basically choked and couldn’t speak for a full minute.
And when I did speak, all that came out was nonsense.
They looked like they were used to it, so they probably tend to have that effect on women.
Especially Jake.” She sighs. “No man should look that good. Although my personal favorite is Sam. Something about big silent guys just gets my juices flowing.”
“Right.” I don’t want to hear this. I really shouldn’t be entertaining this, but I can’t help but ask, “So they’re really good friends with my brother?”
“Oh yeah, the best. Since college, from what I know. And the best part about them is?”
I shake my head.
“That you don’t have to choose.” She leans in and whispers. “Rumor is that if one of them likes you enough, he can share you with the other two, for a night of passion. Isn’t that wild?”
A knot forms in my throat, impossible to push down with saliva. “Yeah, wild.”
"I mean, I can't imagine what kind of woman would go for that. She would have to be a total slut, but...hey, I'd be a slut for those three any day."
I barely hear the words. My mind is in total chaos, a lot of thoughts vying for control.
I mean, on one hand, I think I already knew that they did that sort of thing before.
Not just because they implied it, but because of how practiced they were.
There was an easy rhythm to the night, the way they worked with not a single trace of awkwardness, no one getting into the other's way.
They all moved as a unit with an ease that could only come from practice.
But I didn’t know it was common knowledge, either, to the point where it seems everyone in the office knows about it. And if they find out that I fucked them…
God, I can’t even imagine. My reputation would probably be down the gutter. Even though Stacey made that 'slut' comment jokingly, I know that's exactly what people would think of me. It's the only time I’ve ever done anything like it, but no one would care or believe me.
As much as I want to pretend like that wouldn't affect me, like I won't care about the stupid sexism behind those who judge women harshly for exploring their sexuality, the truth is, I don't know if I'm strong enough or in the right mindset to take on something like that.
And my brother...James would lose his shit.
Yeah, no one can know. I don’t know how inclined the men are to keep the secret, but I’m hoping they are very inclined. I’ll have to talk to them, and maybe Jake especially, and tell him that what happened between us can never happen again.
I'll also have to caution him against flirting, especially in front of James. He might be one of those people who are just naturally flirtatious, but James doesn't play that, and it's going to affect their relationship, which is the last thing I want.
I’ll also have to talk to them about the baby.
Oh fuck, the baby.
I truly didn’t think I would have to be faced with my decision so soon. Yes, I know I have to tell them eventually about it, but I thought I had time. I thought–
“Chelsea?"
The sound of my name drags me back into reality, and I realize I’ve just been standing there, staring at her for God knows how long.
“Sorry, um...” I say. "My mind is elsewhere. I have to go."
“Alright. See you later.”
"See you." I rush out, hoping that the men are already gone.
No such luck.
The large one, Sam, is standing there in front of the elevator. He looks like he’s waiting for someone, and the problem is that my office is on the other side of him. I try to pass by him as inconspicuously as possible. But he speaks up in that deep rumbling voice.
“Chelsea.”
I jerk to a stop, his smooth tone triggering a lot of memories.
He straightens off the wall as I slowly turn to regard his unsmiling visage.
"I don't think we introduced ourselves yet," he says. "I'm Sam."
I attempt a smile and nod. "Nice to meet you, Sam. I'm glad we'll be working together."
He opens his mouth, but frowns and closes it again. He tries a second time to say something, but it doesn't seem to be adequate either.
Finally, as I'm about to continue my quick escape, he says, "I hope that's not all we're doing together."
My heart jumps into my throat. "Pardon?"
"I'd like to take you out on a date," he says. "Anywhere you want. Or I can plan it, if that's okay." His eyes drop a little, and pinkness stains his cheeks,
He frowns fiercely after the words leave his mouth. Like they're not the exact words he wanted to say, but they came out of him anyway.
I'm so fascinated by his reaction that it takes a while for it to hit me...that he just asked me out on a date.
My jaw drops. "Seriously?"
"Yes. Is that so shocking?"
"A little bit." I thought at most, they'd want a repeat performance of what happened that weekend, but not like an actual date.
Because, well, why would a guy like that want to date me? He's way out of my league.
But maybe date here is just a euphemism for sex. Maybe he's just trying to find a polite way to invite me back to his place for round two.
"Oh, um..." I shake my head. "I can't. Actually, I think it would be a good idea if we...you know, forget about what happened."
He raises an eyebrow. "Why?"
"I..." I sigh. "I know what I seemed like that night, but it really isn't me. That night was just...I was a different person."
"Really?"
"Yes," I say. "I wasn't drunk or anything, but I wasn't...I guess I just have. A hard time explaining it, but know that it's best that we forget that it even happened and we keep things between us professional. And let’s also not tell my brother, if that’s okay. Okay?"
He doesn't say anything, and in all fairness, I probably don't give him much of a chance before I take off to my office.
I halfway think he's about to follow me, but he doesn't. As I sit at my desk, I finally take a deep breath. That wasn't all the conversation was supposed to be. I was supposed to say a lot more, but staring at him made me lose my nerve.
They're so devastatingly handsome, and their presence is so consuming that it's hard to form a single coherent thought around them.
Anyway, I think I made my point, and hopefully he shares it with his two friends. Hopefully, this is the last I have to hear of it.
My brother does show up a few minutes later while I'm making my presentation for our next meeting. He has a cup of coffee, which I accept gratefully.
"You want to tell me what that was about?" he says.
"What?" I blow on the top of the cup.
"Don't feign ignorance. What happened between you and Jake at the party? He kept staring at you and talking to you like he knew you or something."
I shrug. The fact that he's asking means that Jake and the other men didn't tell him anything, which is a very good thing. "Nothing much. I was up in the room, and he came in looking for something. We flirted a little, and then I went home."
"Together? Because he wasn't there when I arrived, either, I'm pretty sure."
"How would you know? You were really drunk that night?"
"Fair point. So you're saying he was there."
"I don't know. As I said, I left shortly after, and I was in the room before that."
"So nothing happened between you two?"
"Nothing beyond flirting."
"Good," he says. "He's not the guy for you. I know that he's what you ladies call a 'beefcake'–"
"You ladies?" I snort. "What are you, eighty?"
"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, as I was saying, Jake isn't the guy for you."
"Kind of an interesting thing to say about your friend."
"Well, it's because he's my friend that I know.
He goes through women like they're t-shirts.
Never commits to any of them and, to his credit, I don't think he promises them anything, but still.
He breaks countless hearts, and he doesn't seem to care about any of them.
Doesn't give a fuck if they have loving boyfriends either.
" That last one was said with a tinge of bitterness that has me raising my eyebrow.
"That sounds a little personal."
"It is. You're my sister, and I don't want you getting hurt again. Okay?"
"Okay," I smile. "Rest assured, there will never be anything between Jake McCarthy and me."