8. Cici
CICI
Who gets fired before breakfast only to have their boss call back twenty minutes later, offering their job back?
Apparently me.
He didn't just offer me my job, he offered me a raise to boot. A significant one.
I kept staring at my phone like it was going to give me answers.
I could still hear Gary's voice.
"I didn't know."
I hadn't known what he was talking about then.
I still didn't.
Then he ended with, "Congratulations, Cici."
Again.
On what?
He hadn't elaborated.
All I know was that I was back on Todd Archer's account effective immediately.
The entire conversation felt like I'd somehow missed the middle twenty pages of a book.
Nothing about it made sense.
One thing I would bet on was that Todd Archer had something to do with the situation.
After our flight to Chicago this morning, I shut down the aircraft and completed my post-flight paperwork. I'd finally stepped off the Gulfstream expecting everyone to be long gone.
Instead, Todd had been waiting.
Actually waiting.
For me.
Which was strange enough.
When we started walking toward the private terminal, he'd placed his hand on the small of my back. The memory made my stomach do something annoying.
It hadn't been possessive or inappropriate. If anything, it had been absentminded.
Natural.
As if he'd done it a hundred times before. Like guiding me through the terminal was the most normal thing in the world.
The contact lasted all of three seconds. Maybe four. Yet somehow my body had decided to memorialize the moment.
I hated that. Almost as much as I hated how much I'd liked it.
I mean what kind of man does that when he is clearly engaged? And worse? What kind of woman enjoys the touch of an engaged man?
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.
A knock sounded against the hotel room door.
I threw my head back and closed my eyes.
You got this Cici. Stay strong.
I grabbed my key card and headed out.
Tonight's hotel sat within walking distance of several restaurants.
Unfortunately, one of them apparently involved Todd Archer.
When I stepped into the hallway, he was waiting for me. Alone.
The gray button-down should have looked ordinary. Combined with dark jeans and the camel coat draped over his arm, it somehow wasn’t. Everything about Todd Archer looked expensive, including the way he carried himself.
The sight of him should not have affected me.
Yet here we were.
His gaze lifted.
"You opened the door."
I rolled my eyes.
"You practically issued a summons."
His mouth twitched.
"That's not a no."
"No would have been easier."
"I noticed."
I started walking toward the elevator.
"I still don't think this is appropriate."
"Having dinner?"
"Having dinner with a client."
His smile widened.
"We've had dinner together before."
Heat crawled up my neck.
"I especially liked the after party," he smirked.
Oh Dear Lord! No after party!
The elevator doors opened. I stepped inside. Todd followed. The silence lasted almost five seconds. Then I asked the obvious question.
"Is Naomi joining us?"
"No."
The answer came immediately.
Too, immediately.
I stared at the numbers over the door.
For some reason, the response made me feel better.
Which was ridiculous.
I barely knew the man.
The elevator dinged.
We stepped into the lobby.
Unfortunately, my curiosity decided to join us.
Thirty minutes later, we were seated across from each other in a steakhouse overlooking the river.
The food was excellent.
The conversation was surprisingly easy.
And none of that helped.
Because every time I started enjoying myself, I remembered who he was.
My client.
The man I'd slept with. The man who had somehow gotten me fired. Or unfired. Or whatever the hell had happened.
I took a sip of water.
Todd set down his bourbon.
"You've been glaring at me for ten minutes."
"I have not."
"You have."
"I was thinking."
"That sounds dangerous."
I narrowed my eyes.
Todd grinned.
The man had entirely too much confidence.
My gaze drifted toward his glass.
Then back to him. Todd was in mid gulp when the question escaped before I could stop it.
"How long have you and Naomi been engaged?"
He immediately choked.
Not coughed.
Choked.
Bourbon sprayed across the table.
A few droplets landed on my sleeve.
I blinked.
Todd coughed again.
And again.
His eyes watered.
A nearby server looked concerned. Other patrons turned their heads.
I grabbed my napkin.
"Wow."
He took the napkin.
"Thank you," he choked out.
"You okay?"
"No."
I bit the inside of my cheek.
"Good to know."
Todd finally recovered enough to stare at me.
"What did you just ask?"
"How long have you and Naomi been engaged?"
Another cough.
I was beginning to think he might require medical intervention.
"Bunny?"
"Yes."
"Bunny - Naomi Remington."
"That's her."
He stared.
Actually stared.
"What gave you that idea?"
Now I was confused.
"The ring."
"What ring?"
I gave an incredulous laugh.
"Her engagement ring."
Todd frowned.
"What engagement ring?"
"The one on her left hand."
His expression remained blank.
I shook my head.
"The diamond is the size of a runway beacon."
He huffed, loudly.
"A runway beacon?"
"I was concerned for nearby aircraft."
That earned a genuine laugh.
The deep kind.
The kind that transformed his entire face, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.
Then I remembered I was irritated with him.
Mostly.
"And there was a wedding magazine sticking out of her bag."
Realization flashed across his features.
"Ah."
"Exactly."
Todd rubbed a hand over his mouth.
Clearly trying not to laugh again.
Then he looked at me.
"Cici."
"What?"
"Bunny, I'm sorry," he cleared his throat. "Naomi... is my cousin."
I stared.
"What?"
"My cousin."
The words took several seconds to process.
"Your cousin."
"Yes."
"Not your fiancée."
His grin returned.
"Definitely not my fiancée."
Well.
That was embarrassing.
A flush crept up my neck.
Todd seemed entirely too entertained by my humiliation.
"But she is engaged."
I pointed across the table.
"Ha."
"She is."
Vindication.
Sweet, beautiful vindication.
Todd lifted his glass.
"To Justin."
My victory evaporated.
"Justin?"
"My pilot."
I blinked.
"Your pilot."
"My regular pilot."
The one recovering from the skiing accident.
The one I was temporarily replacing.
Something warm unfurled inside my chest.
Relief.
Immediate and undeniable.
And incredibly inconvenient.
Because now I had to examine why knowing Todd Archer wasn't engaged felt like winning the lottery.
I reached for my water.
Todd watched me.
Closely.
Far too closely.
His expression shifted.
Just slightly.
As if he'd noticed something.
I looked away first.
The check arrived.
Todd signed it.
Then leaned back in his chair.
His expression suddenly became serious.
Uh-oh.
I recognized that look.
"Todd?"
He folded his hands.
"Speaking of engagements..."
My stomach dropped.
His eyes met mine.
Calm.
Steady.
Completely unapologetic.
"I told your boss we we’re engaged."