10. Dylan
10
DYLAN
I t’s officially been two weeks since I had lunch with Parker, and I haven’t heard a word from him. I know that’s something I should be happy about, yet I can’t shake the tautness in my chest that’s gotten progressively worse with every passing day. This is what I wanted, after all. To keep our relationship strictly professional. I made that very clear. I’m starting to think maybe I made it a little too clear.
I’ve had to lock my phone in my desk multiple times this week to stop myself from texting him. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d reach out first. Although I basically told him never to speak to me again, what sensible person in their right mind would reach out after that?
As I’m going through Evelyn’s social media profiles to create a content calendar to prep for this book release, I hear my name called. I turn around to find Scarlett making her way to my desk, latte in hand once again. This woman knows my love language is coffee, and she never fails to bring me my daily caffeine fix. Who needs a man when you have a beautiful woman hand-delivering specialty lattes every day? She even knows just how much milk to add. From my experience, no man is capable of remembering those small details.
While I want to be thrilled that she’s bringing me a drink, it’s clear to see that she has a hidden agenda. Her lips are pursed, eyebrows raised with concern. No wonder she’s bringing me a sweet treat. She’s trying to butter me up. She hesitantly hands me the coffee silently with shaky hands.
“Thank you for the coffee. Now, what’s wrong? You look like you’re about to tell me that you hit my cat with your car.”
She scrunches her face up in disgust. “A little morbid first thing in the morning, don’t you think?”
I wave nonchalantly. “Maybe. But stop trying to change the subject. Out with it.”
“What makes you think something is wrong?” she asks innocently.
“You went out of your way to get me coffee from La Cabra.”
“Not just a coffee.” She pulls a white paper bag out from behind her back and passes it my way. I peek my head inside to find a perfectly baked, beautifully powdered sugar-coated almond croissant. I have to physically stop myself from salivating at the sight of the delicious pastry. I dream of La Cabra’s pastries almost every single night–no, that is not an exaggeration.
I set the bag on my desk with every ounce of self-control in my body, lean back in my chair, and interlock my hands over my lower stomach, unable to be bribed…yet. “Okay, now I know you’re really trying to kiss my ass. What’s going on?”
She sits down on the edge of my desk across from me and flashes me a strained smile. “Katherine called me into her office last night. She’s taking me off the Bennett project.”
This jolts me forward out of my seat. “What? Why? You’re the only person she can stand. Why on earth would she be taking you off an account? How the hell am I supposed to work with Parker without you as a buffer now? ”
Shortly after lunch with Parker, I finally filled Scarlett in on our history. How the not-so-mysterious, hot stranger that walked into our office was actually, at one point, the person I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. Of course, she swore up and down that she’d be there with me in every meeting, conference call, etc., to help me maintain my sanity (or at least the very little of it that I’m still grasping onto).
I’m sure it didn’t help Katherine’s image of me as a child who needs hand-holding, but sometimes you do what you have to do to survive. Even if that means your boss thinks you’re incompetent. I can’t imagine that’s far off from her initial opinion of me anyway.
Scarlett presses her tongue to her top lip in contemplation. “That’s the thing. She’s putting me on a smaller account. She apparently received an email from Blake at Blue Bird, who vocalized his wishes to work with you and you alone. She’s strongly against the idea, but she’ll do anything she can to impress that man. Not to mention, I may or may not have been in support of letting you take on the account yourself…” Her voice naturally lowers as she prepares for the hell I’m about to unleash on her.
As the words come out of her mouth, The sip of delectable housemade dirty chai latte she brought to buy me off burns my throat, forcing me to wheeze. While I’m gasping for air, she runs over to my side and pats me on the back. I throw my hands up in a gesture to get her to back off, finally gulping down a breath.
“Have you gone mad? You knew I already tried to get taken off the entire thing. What makes you think I want to work on it by myself?” I bite.
She backs up, hands drooping at her side, a remorseful pout on her face. “I know it’s not ideal, but Blake asked for it, and as much as I would love to have this one under my belt, this is your chance to shine. Come on, Dyl. Getting opportunities like this so early on in your career is almost impossible, especially with Katherine. I know you’re talented enough to knock it out of the park. Now’s the time to prove it.”
The logical part of me knows deep down that I can’t be upset by what she did. It’s out of her control, and she wants to see me succeed more than anyone. She’s been my cheerleader since the minute I stepped into the office, and as someone who hasn’t had many people in her corner over the years, it’s been refreshing. Yet I can’t help but feel the smallest inkling of betrayal that she didn’t put up a bigger fight.
“Why would Blake ask that I’m on the account alone in the first place?” I question in place of vocalizing my hurt.
“I wish I knew.” She puts a hand up to her mouth and whispers, “He’s either desperate to sleep with you, which I wouldn’t fault you for if you did, by the way. The things I would let that man do to me.” She blows out a breath as, I can only assume, she visualizes bumping uglies with the man. I roll my eyes as she raises her voice back to her normal volume. “Or, this is some ploy that Parker propositioned to get you two to spend more time together.”
My eyes bulge at the thought. There’s no way Parker would do that. We haven’t spoken in weeks. There’s no scenario that I can dream up where he woke up and decided that he suddenly wants to spend every waking second working together.
“That’s not possible. He’s gone completely M.I.A.”
“Well, to be fair, you did tell the man that your life is better without him. That doesn’t exactly scream, “l want to talk to you.””
I jut out my bottom lip. “I did not. I simply told him that we’re not going to be friends.”
“If that’s what you want to tell yourself to help you sleep better at night, go for it. But I read that text, and I know that if I ever received that, I would probably crawl up in the fetal position and rot in bed for days. ”
Scarlett’s sitting on my desk five feet away from me, but the blow lands like a slap across the face. I’ve spent the last fourteen days trying not to think about the text I sent in an envious rage. I have been known to be a bit abrasive occasionally, but I thought it was a flaw I was overcoming. Clearly not.
I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly, pleading with my heart to slow its beat against my chest. I’ll never fault Scarlett for being brutally honest, even if it’s sometimes unbearable to hear.
“Exactly my point. If that text did as much emotional damage as you seem to think it did, I don’t see why he’d want to work together one-on-one. If anything, I’d assume he’d be running for the hills. Moving back to LA to get away from me.”
“I love you, but stop being dramatic. Besides, I don’t bother trying to understand men. It’s a waste of my brain power. I think the first step is to reach out to Blake and see if you can set up a meeting. Find out why he requested you and go from there. Either way, I think this is a golden opportunity presented on a platter for you. Who knows how long you’d have to work here before Katherine even considers giving you your own client, let alone someone as big as Evelyn. If you can prove to her that you can do this, maybe she’ll give you other accounts. Or at least finally get your name right.”
A small giggle floats up from my throat, and I feel some of the unease lift from my shoulders. “It would be nice to be taken seriously for once.”
“Exactly. I’m not going to be working closely with you now, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going anywhere. You can go to all your meetings with them, and then we can get drinks afterward. Nothing cures emotional pain more than a martini or two. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”
“I appreciate your optimism,” I glower.
“One of us has to be positive in this friendship.”
“Hey! I’m positive!” I retort .
“Sure, and I’m the queen of England.” She pats me on the head as she makes her way out of my cubicle. “Email Blake. Set up a meeting. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you for the coffee and pastry. I love you,” I shout after her as she leaves.
“I know!” She yells back.
I take one more long sip of chai. It may not be the liquid courage I need right now, but it’s good enough for the time being. I turn back to my email and draft an email to Blake asking to set up a meeting, then go back to prepping the social calendar.
A response lands in my inbox less than an hour after sending it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few weeks dealing with these men, it’s that they’re workaholics who will get back to you faster than the speed of light. Despite my dislike for the two, I have to admire their dedication. There are worse people to work with on the biggest account of my life. I’d be caught dead before admitting that to them, though.
Hi Dylan,
Glad the message got relayed! My day is packed with meetings, but I am around for a half an hour or so if you want to swing by the office today around 1. If that doesn’t work, let me know and we can get something else on the calendar.
Thanks,
Blake
As much as I don’t want to take this meeting, I need to get to the bottom of this. It’s also a great excuse to get out of the office. Katherine has me make more coffee runs than I care for, but I savor the moments of peace and quiet while I’m out. Begrudgingly, I can’t deny that a meeting at Blue Bird is far better than errands for a boss who views me as a glorified assistant. I might as well be an intern. Let’s just hope I can steer clear of Parker.
Blue Bird is located in a high rise right on the borders of Central Park—on the 40th floor, to be precise. The elevator ride up couldn’t have taken longer than three minutes, yet those three minutes were long enough to send me off the deep end. It’s impossible to steady my erratic pulse as I step off to large glass doors.
As I walk in, I see a round front desk with the words “Blue Bird” on the wall behind it. It reminds me of The Devil Wears Prada, and it strikes me that I live in New York again. As someone who had pictures of the Empire State Building on her vision board ever since she was fourteen, I still get moments where I’m reminded how drastically my life has changed. There may have been some hiccups–buff, grossly handsome hiccups–along the way, but it’s still a surreal feeling.
The red-headed receptionist seated at the front desk looks like she belongs on the cover of Vogue. She has those sharp, razor-blade cheekbones everyone’s paying thousands of dollars to achieve with buccal fat removal. Said cheeks are covered in a smattering of freckles, and to top it all off, her jade green eyes are practically glowing, made even brighter by the deep plum sweater she’s wearing.
“Welcome to Blue Bird. How can I help you?” She flashes me a warm smile, and I immediately hate her. Okay, that’s not entirely true, but it is truly unfair that there are people walking around this planet as beautiful as her .
I swallow my unwarranted envy. “I’m here for a meeting with Blake Beaumont. My name is Dylan Jenkins.”
She looks down at her computer screen, typing away. “Ah, yes. Looks like he’s expecting you. Follow me right this way.” She pushes her way up from the chair and leads me down the hallway. I do my best to keep my eyes ahead, but I can’t help as they fall to her curves. She’s wearing a black skirt that many might find far too short to wear to work, but who am I to judge? If I had an ass like hers, I’d probably be showing it off too. The universe really does have its favorites.
We stop at another frosted glass door, and she taps at it softly. I pause, steeling myself to see Parker on the other side. I know my meeting is scheduled with Blake, but you can never be too sure–especially since it’s becoming a common occurrence to see him when I least expect it.
“Come in,” responds a muffled voice from the other side.
I sag with relief when a voice belonging to a man other than Parker responds. Thank god. The bombshell of a receptionist pushes the door open and throws him her perfectly straight, way-too-white smile.
“I have Dylan Jenkins here to see you.”
“Thanks, Blair. Send her in.”
Blair. A name fitting for a model. Shocker.
She pushes the door open wider, and I have to clench my jaw to keep myself from gaping at the setup. Sitting behind the desk are nearly floor-to-ceiling windows with half-moon detailing at the top. The adjacent wall is made entirely of exposed brick, covered in colorful prints.
Resting below the art is a sleek black metal bar complete with a crystal decanter full of what I surmise is a whiskey that costs more than I’d ever be willing to spend on a bottle of liquor. I always heard about people stashing a bottle of something or other in their desks, but seeing it in front of me makes the corners of my lips twitch up. How cliche .
There’s a long, deep blue velvet couch against the wall, with a glass coffee table in front of it. Surprisingly, there’s even a spider plant atop it, and from one quick glance, it appears to be real. Color me impressed.
Situated right in front of the windows sits a long black desk with two mid-century modern chairs on one side and a grinning Blake on the other.
Blair begins to shut the door, but I notice her lingering out of the corner of my eye as if she’s waiting for Blake to acknowledge her further. He must notice it, too, because he sends a subtle wink her way. Her cheeks instantly redden, and she closes it the rest of the way. Gross .
I was hoping I’d caught him on an off day when his eyes wouldn’t leave my chest, but apparently, he openly gawks regularly.
He turns his attention back to me, stands, and gestures to one of the chairs across from him at his desk. “Dylan, thank you so much for coming down. I appreciate the time you’re taking to meet with me.”
Every fiber of my being wants to roll my eyes at him, but his grin is memorizing. He’s attractive in that self-important, womanizing way. Definitely not my type, but I can see why girls would fall under his spell when he turns the charm on.
I take a seat across from him, and he waits for me to be seated before he sits back down. How, unfortunately, chivalrous of him.
“Thanks for finding the time.” I clasp my hands together and let them fall in my lap as my eyes wander around the office once again. Blake doesn’t miss a beat, refusing to let us fall into an uncomfortable silence.
“You’re probably wondering why I asked Katherine to take Miss Kensington off the account.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Yes, I am a bit confused.”
He leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk. My eyes snag on his biceps, straining against the fabric of his midnight blue button-down. It’s clear he spends his free time out of the office at the gym, and I hate myself for noticing his physique.
You can find someone attractive and still hate their personality, I remind myself. There’s no shame in admiring the view.
“I apologize that you didn’t hear it from me first. I was planning on emailing you before my call with Katherine, but this week has been rather busy. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel blindsided.”
I blink a couple of times, trying to shake away the small butterflies that have begun fluttering low in my belly. It’s not my fault that finding a man willing to apologize for even the smallest wrongdoings is nearly impossible in this day and age. I can’t be held responsible for my bodily reaction to manners.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“It has come to my attention that you and Mr. Townsend have a history together, correct?”
“I-I guess you could say that,” I stutter, unsure how to respond. Is Parker going around and telling everyone in his office that we dated? I’m trying to look professional, and his fat mouth is already jeopardizing it.
“No need to hide it. I think it’s going to be extremely beneficial for this account.”
“I’m not following.” The confusion must be clear on my face because he lets out a low rumble of laughter.
“Parker is new to the team, and Evelyn is a big account to step into immediately. Although I know he can handle this with whomever he’s partnered with, I want to ensure things go well. I’d much rather he work closely with someone he’s familiar with than a stranger.”
“But Scarlett is one of our top marketing coordinators…” My voice fades, and I’m still unsure what direction this is heading. It doesn’t fully process that he mentioned the two of us working beside one another .
“Are you saying you’re bad at your job?” He lifts a brow, a pompous smile lingering on his face.
I vehemently shake my head. “No, of course not.”
“I didn’t think so. I had Katherine send me your portfolio before I made the final call. You may not have the experience Miss Kensington has, but you’re talented. I’m not concerned.”
I sit in silence for a moment while I let it all sink in. This is so well thought out, yet I learned about the decision less than six hours ago. While I am very flattered that he thinks I’m good at what I do, I’m still left with so many questions. Before I can ask a single one, there’s a quiet knock at the door. Probably Blair armed with an excuse to see him again.
“Come in.” Blake doesn’t break eye contact with me but waves his hand, beckoning whoever is on the other side. The door opens, and it’s just my luck; it’s not Blair. No, it’s Parker looking sexy in a tight cream polo and navy chino pants that I just know make his butt look great. I don’t know what’s in the water over there, but California really made him one hell of a dresser, and I’m not happy about it.
“You wanted to see me?” He asks Blake before his eyes fall to mine.
Great . Here we go again.