Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“What?!” I squeaked.
Grant chuckled on the other end. Clearly, that was the response he’d been waiting for from me.
“She called me directly at work yesterday,” he revealed. “I tried calling you, by the way, but it kept going to voicemail.”
“Why didn’t you text me?”
“I wanted to hear your reaction. Then, I had my niece’s ballet recital this morning and into the afternoon. Anyway, yes, Maggie’s alive. Thank goodness. And she said that she’ll be in on Monday. She said she’d had a family emergency, and she was sorry for the lack of communication.”
“So weird,” I muttered, pressing a palm to my forehead. “Anything else?”
“Nope. You know how she is.”
“Yeah…” I said, and laughed—slowly at first, then uncontrollably. “You could’ve been arrested,” I gasped between breaths.
It was ridiculous. We’d broken into a garage. We’d stalked her Instagram. Grant had hacked HR. And she’d merely been…dealing with family stuff. The laughter became hysterical, spilling out in waves until my eyes watered. Grant laughed too, hanging up on me when I wouldn’t stop.
The funniest part of it all was that Colin was right then walking toward me, his crisp dark navy suit tailored to his over-six-foot frame. Only a few minutes ago I was trying to figure out how to ask more indirect questions to get to the bottom of the mystery—a mystery that never existed.
Colin caught the last fits of giggles that kept escaping me, along with a couple of apologies from me as I tried to compose myself.
“Funny call?” he asked, voice smooth, polite.
“I can’t tell you,” I said with a lingering giggle.
He arched an eyebrow. “Well, now you have to tell me.”
I considered it, then shook my head as I covered my mouth with my hand.
Without a word, he held something out—a cocktail glass. He’d brought me a Cosmopolitan, the drink I’d mentioned earlier I’d ordered the night before.
Hmm. He’d been paying attention. My hand brushed his as I took it, and something shifted—an awareness of how little space there really was between us.
“If you won’t tell me, you’ll have to share another secret,” he said, his eyes not leaving me for even a second.
“I…well… I don’t have any secrets.”
There was a twinkle in his eye as he asked, “That can’t be true. What about that Grant guy who sits next to you at work? What’s going on there?”
The name alone jolted me back to reality. I must have stayed quiet for far too long because he added, “This is all off the record. I’m not your boss right now.”
Sounds like the start of every sexual-harassment case, I thought suddenly.
But was it bad to wish that’s what he was actually thinking of? I let myself fantasize that this mysterious and powerful man desired me for even a second.
“Grant is just a coworker. Though we did go on a date once,” I said.
“It’s obvious he’s into you.” He tilted his head slightly, studying me.
“No way. He hardly paid any attention to me,” I said and recounted the failed evening to my boss/not boss for the night.
“After,” I continued to tell my tale, “he drives me home, asks how the date went. When I tell him my complaints, he makes a vague noise to let me know he heard me. I didn’t bother clarifying whether he understood me. But when we get to my apartment—get this—he tries to kiss me at the door!”
This comment led to a slight snicker from Colin, which he quickly recovered from. His eyes were bright as he listened, waiting patiently for me to continue.
“Of course, I didn’t kiss him. I actually…
well… I pulled my head back and gave him a face like, ‘Are you kidding me?’” I made the same face and gesture I’d made that evening a few years ago.
“Anyway, that was the end of our date, and we’ve been strictly coworkers ever since.
Though he does like to try my patience.”
“Because he’s into you,” he said, sounding more convinced than ever. “He just doesn’t know what to do with it.”
“Well, if he is, it’s his problem. I’ve made my indifference to him clear,” I said, now focusing on the drink in my hand and taking a large sip.
“He’ll keep trying,” Colin said, voice low. “I would.”
My eyes flew to meet his, where they lingered far longer than they should have. I had to pull my gaze away, my heart suddenly racing wildly.
Was he trying to flirt with me? What the—?
I looked back at him, and he was now staring at his phone, leaning forward and crafting a text message with a concerned look on his face.
“Excuse me for a moment,” he said.
He was so formal. Was it a requirement to be so buttoned-up at all times as a VP?
I kept trying to decipher him as I cradled my glass. Everything about him was measured and deliberate. He clearly didn’t let emotion crack through easily.
When he returned a few minutes later, I still had not come to any conclusion, nor had I decided what my behavior should be.
Was I out of my mind?!
My own behavior, of course, would remain professional. Buttoned-up. Like him. Except I wouldn’t be teasing out information about his dating habits.
His was not a happy face. Not that I knew what a happy Colin Slade would look like. The closest had probably been today as I recounted the story of my date with Grant.
Weird.
“They canceled,” he said. He began to pace back and forth.
“What? How can they cancel? We’re supposed to meet in fifteen minutes,” I said, checking my phone for the time.
“I know.” He looked at me, tensed his jaw, and paced again. “There’s nothing I can do, they said. They are signing with another firm as we speak.”
“What the—” I started, and then stopped myself, closing my mouth firmly as if I had uttered the four-letter word.
“Fuck. What the fuck,” he finished my sentence in a quiet but commanding way.
“Yeah,” I said, dazed from the realization that the entire trip was a waste and that my careful and calculated boss was cursing.
The next moment, he reeled himself in, sat down again and took the last swig of his drink. He held the glass idly, lost in thought.
I waited, my hands settled in my lap, not knowing what to do.
“Let’s eat,” he said, stood up again, and placed the glass on the small table.
“I guess we do still have to eat,” I said mindlessly as I got up and moved toward the hostess.
When we were shown to the table in a softly lit corner of the restaurant, he pulled my chair out.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice meek and unsure. I told myself to snap out of it.
He’s just a man. Probably a very rich man. Definitely formidable. But all the same, he eats and goes to the bathroom like any normal person.
Colin ordered a bottle of wine from the list, and my eyes moved over the menu until I found the specific wine he’d ordered. If I hadn’t been trying to play it cool, my jaw would have dropped.
Was he paying for this bottle, or was the company? I sure couldn’t.
He sat tall and seemingly unfazed by anything in the world, his facial features relaxed, albeit serious. It occurred to me that this man had extreme control over his emotions. I couldn’t fathom what that must be like, and yet, my curiosity was at an all-time high.
“You don’t seem all that upset about the deal falling through,” I said.
“Oh, I am,” he said. “This was the main thing I’ve been working on since I was hired.” But that didn’t explain how his voice stayed so even, or why he still looked as though he could have been watching a golf game, or even playing poker.
I shifted in my seat, tucked my hair behind my ear, and said, “I’m not sure if I’d be as calm as you are right now.”
His mouth twitched a little on one side. “No? How would you react if you were in my shoes?”
“I’d probably be screaming into a pillow right about now,” I said, biting my lip to keep from smiling.
“You still can,” he said, his eyes boring into me in a way that made me wonder…
You know that phrase ‘butterflies in my stomach’? Well, there was certainly something fluttering about somewhere down below. Way below my stomach.
I tried not to let anything show—like him.
“I might still,” I said. Whichever way he took my meaning, I could always claim that I’d be screaming into the pillow in frustration over the lost deal.
His eyes softened with amusement, and again his lips showed a shadow of a smile.
“You’re not afraid to express yourself,” he said. “That’s admirable.”
“Is it?” I asked. “You don’t do it.”
“Bold, too.”
I looked at him, waiting for him to say something else.
Finally, he continued, “I learned long ago to leave people guessing. It works in negotiations and business.”
“But you told me not to see you as my boss earlier. We’re not conducting business now.
” I hoped I wasn’t pushing him too far. I expected at any moment for him to tell me I was being unprofessional.
I pictured Monica or Jessica sitting here with us, observing this exchange and what the next day’s gossip rounds would be like.
“I suppose it’s become my default. Not to mention the years of boarding school at an all-boys preparatory school and my years at Harvard.”
This time my jaw dropped.
“Wow, that is very different from my public-school upbringing and state university experience.”
It all made so much more sense now. He made a lot of money at his job, but he’d obviously grown up extremely wealthy and in an entirely different world.
“I would imagine it’s very different, yes,” he said. “I remember dreaming about what it would be like to live like that. My life would have led me to a different place and position. There’s really not much of a point in wondering ‘what if?’ though, is there?”
I wasn’t sure whether he talked wistfully or if he really didn’t care. It was so hard to read him.
“Did all of your friends go to boarding school?” I couldn’t ask what I really wanted to ask him. I was suddenly dying to find out if he’d ever dated someone…normal. Someone who wasn’t dripping with diamonds and servants and hadn’t been raised with a nanny.
“Most of them. I spent all my time there, so it was natural that we all became friends. Made a few enemies there, too. Some friends were also friends of the family I’d see on holidays.”
I guess I couldn’t get the answer to my question in such a roundabout way, but it would be way too nosy of me to go any further.
His next question surprised me. “Did you like growing up the way you did?”
“Um… yes, I can’t complain. I had everything I needed and lots of friends. But friends come and go.”
He made a “Hmmm” noise and said, “People disappoint us. Sometimes by leaving, sometimes by staying too long.”
I felt a soft pang—his reply had me both intrigued and unexpectedly moved.
The server appeared and asked if we’d decided. I hadn’t even looked at the entrées section of the menu, realizing I’d been clutching it throughout the conversation as if it were a lifesaver.
“Can I recommend something you might enjoy?” Colin asked.
I nodded, and he pointed to the steak with lobster. I agreed and told the server I’d be having that.
“You can make that two,” Colin said, handing the server our menus. When we were alone again, he gestured toward me with his glass. “So now I’ve told you something about me. You still have to share something. Preferably, what all that laughing was about.”
I began to laugh.
“Not again,” he said, and at last he smiled. I took it as a personal triumph and decided to share with him how worried I’d been about Maggie.
When I got to the part where Grant and I initially suspected him, he laughed. It was mesmerizing. It lasted only a couple of seconds, but it was clear that this man should laugh more often.
I left out several embarrassing details, but finally relayed that Maggie had checked in with Grant and that she was not lost, murdered, or kidnapped. Colin said he was relieved. He didn’t look surprised or relieved by the news, but it wasn’t unusual for him to be unreadable.
“She would have been the one on this trip with you,” I said. “Not that it would have made much of a difference, since the meeting didn’t happen. I wanted to know—why did you choose me over Grant?”
“It really came down to personality in the end.” He played with the stem of his wine glass. “You seemed more charming. And I wanted to charm them.”
“You had met me for all of five minutes. And it’s not like I was nice to you,” I said.
“You charmed me,” he answered me too quickly. It was subtle, but Colin never rushed anything. His jaw tightened immediately afterward, as if he’d caught himself saying something he hadn’t meant to say.
I took a slow and deep breath in, not knowing how to respond to that. He was quiet as well, so I took a sip of the very expensive wine.
“Don’t you think you’re charming?” he asked after a few moments, any hint of restraint just as quickly replaced with ease and a growing sense of familiarity.
I scrunched my brows, wondering what the right thing to say would be. “I’m not sure.”
“What do you think of yourself?”
I was floored. What were these questions? I had to force myself to stop squirming in my seat.
“I’m not sure what you mean. Um, I think I’m a hard worker. I think I do my job well.”
He nodded and said, “Go on. This isn’t an interview, by the way. You look a little scared.”
“Do I?” I bit my lip again, realizing I had to stop the awful habit. “I don’t mean to. I mean, I’m not scared. Just not sure where this is going.”
“I’d like to know what you think about yourself. There has to be more to you than you being a hard worker.”
“I guess I’m kind. I’m loyal… Is this how you normally make conversation?” I rested my arm on the table, palm up, getting a bit tired of feeling uncomfortable.
“You’re right. I’m being too forward. Forgive me. We can change the subject.”
I pulled my hand back. “No, it’s okay. I just…well, why don’t you tell me what you think about yourself.” I sat back, more relaxed now that I’d turned it around, waiting for his response.
“Of course,” he said, leaning forward with a glint in his eye. “I’m tenacious, respected, confident, disciplined, well-spoken, intelligent, and reasonably good-looking. Oh, and I’m a marvelous cook. It’s one of my many hobbies.”
I wondered what I must have looked like after he described himself as “reasonably good-looking.” He certainly was confident, and I wondered how he couldn’t see that he was edging dangerously close to arrogance.
“Well, there you go.” I brought the wine back to my lips, trying to conceal a smile that wouldn’t fade.
Had I been more self-aware, I would have noticed that I was in danger of falling for Colin Slade.