Chapter 2
2
ZARA
Dinner is a healthy choice of divine foods suited for a wellness health spa such as this, and while every dish is delicious, I’m surprised this is Jobe’s spa retreat hotel. I assumed, with his bad boy edge and fit body, he was more of a nightclub type of guy. He doesn’t have to practice a certain lifestyle to understand that it is a good business investment.
This hotel is a prime example of that. It helps the Hendricks are one of the wealthiest families in the country, proving he understands what it takes.
Invest in what you know.
With no investments but my own happiness, I’m not business savvy at all. I barely manage to save anything from paycheck to paycheck, but I live well. I enjoy my online shopping and girls’ nights out. I guess one could say my wealth isn’t anything monetary.
While the men continue their chatting, our girly conversation is again hijacked with baby talk. It’s not that I oppose the discussion. I am excited for both of my friends, but it has been our only conversation this evening, which I had hoped they would have discussed in entirety during their facial treatment.
Stop. This is one of the most exciting times in your friends’ lives.
Try harder.
“I can’t wait to see Hugh and Franklin change poopy diapers,” I say with a smirk.
“I’m with you,” Sienna adds. “Even the word poop has Hugh running for the hills.”
Penny stares up at her husband. “I think he’s going to be fine,” she says gently. Franklin guides her head gently onto his shoulder, and she smiles at me. “I can’t wait to see him cradling our baby. I dream about it every night.”
Around the table, the discussion overflows with love, and the picture they paint is not hard to imagine. And yet, it’s too much. I catch myself before my face drops. The divide between my friends and me is changing our future. I know I promised to be a part of their child’s life, but we are heading in separate directions, and it scares the hell out of me.
Jobe stands. “A toast to Penny and Franklin. To many happy days and sleepless nights.” He glances at Sienna and Hugh. “And to you both. May your future babies be nothing like their fathers.”
That garners a giggle from the girls.
“And for those of us who can drink, may I serve you something a little harder than what the wonderful staff has prepared?”
I raise my hand. “Yes, please.”
Franklin glances at Penny. “Perhaps a nightcap?”
I check the time. It’s only eight o’clock. Far too early to sleep .
By the time I finish my glass of champagne, Penny is standing and Franklin is downing the last of his whiskey. She rubs her rounded belly and offers me a weary smile. “I’ll see you all in the morning. Breakfast is served from six o’clock.” She takes Franklin’s hand. “I now need pampering in other ways.”
Franklin is right behind her and wraps both arms around her middle, leaning down and whispering something in her ear. Penny giggles.
I. Am. Not. Jealous.
“Night, lovers,” I call after them. “See you in the morning.”
Sienna and Hugh stand. “We are also taking advantage of the super king-sized bed,” Hugh says, and leans down, kissing my cheek.
“TMI,” I tell them.
“It’s good to see you again, Zee.” He gives me a brief hug, glances at Jobe then eyes me. “Are you staying?”
“Have you ever known me to leave a bar before nine o’clock?”
Hugh leaves a supportive hand on my shoulder. “I could stay for another drink with you?”
“No, I’m having one more and heading to bed myself.” I stand to hug both my friends, then look at Jobe. “May I buy a glass of champagne from the bar?”
He downs the rest of his whiskey and stands, walking to the small bar area. I watch as he speaks to the staff, who opens a bottle and places it on the bar, disappearing to the back.
Jobe gestures for me to join him at the bar, and I take a seat on the classy, white leather rounded-back barstool. When I take in the open bottle in front of me, my eyes pop.
What the actual fuck?
Dom Pérignon. Not any bottle, the Gold Vintage .
“I-I didn’t…” I stutter. “I can’t afford…”
Jobe smiles. “It’s on me.” I check behind us, noting the room is now empty. All the staff has disappeared. Not that it matters. He can take what he likes.
“You were struggling,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“How so?”
“All the baby talk. I saw the look on your face.”
My shoulders sag. “I’m trying to be a good friend. No, I am a good friend, and I’m excited for both of my friends. The fact I haven’t dated in a year doesn’t mean anything. It’s an exciting time in their lives. I can only imagine how overwhelmed they are with their lives changing, well, like forever. And in a good way, of course. I’ve never seen Penny this happy, and that makes me happy. I’m so glad she met Frank. I mean, who knew you could find your soulmate setting a proposal beach theme for your friend and it then being a disaster? What do they say? You never know when?—”
“Take a breath and drink,” Jobe interrupts and hands me a glass. “Your happiness is a lot . I’m not sure if it’s for the baby or Penny has found happiness with my brother?”
I down a few mouthfuls. God, it tastes amazing. “Both.”
“And it makes you feel…” He waits for me to answer.
“Happy, of course.”
“Hmm.” He loosens his tie and slips it off, then rolls it, placing it on the bar.
Swiveling on his chair, he faces me, turning my stool so his knees imprison my thighs.
My stupid heartbeat picks up a notch.
His dark eyes assess me. “How do you really feel? And don’t say happy.”
Nervous this close to you. “I’m going to need more than one glass of champagne for me to speak my mind to you . Not that you’d understand. You spoke your mind far too scathingly when you first met Pen.”
“Ah. I see I’m not forgiven for that.” His smirk bugs me as though he knows exactly what he is doing. “Then I’ll start. I love my brother. I’m closest to him out of any of my siblings, and their happiness brings my family unbelievable joy. Especially my parents. He has always been someone I have respected, as no one does it better than Franklin. Ask my father. He was the perfect student and a ruthless businessman. He has made my father proud.”
I frown at him. “And you haven’t?”
“I partied my way through college and messed around for years. Until my father spoke sense and gave me the rope to do something I enjoy since hedge funds and business analytics never inspired me. Beautiful homes and beautiful things enthuse me. I like speaking with people face-to-face and convincing them they need something more in their lives. Although, of late, the business has taken me further away from this and more to real estate investment trusts and buying office towers. Another challenge I enjoy.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“I would never sell them something of poor quality, and I usually deal with millionaires and billionaires, so to my clients, it’s just another house.”
“You’d never sell a house to me.” A statement, not a question. I take another mouthful of truth serum.
“I think I could if you had the equity. I am a convincing man when in the zone.”
A single laugh erupts from my throat. “Thankfully, I’m not in your market, and I doubt I would ever succumb to your sales pitch.”
Or you.
“It’s not a pitch, Zara. More a way of life and understanding the client’s needs. I take my job seriously. ”
I believe him.
Looking at the bottle of champagne, I pour myself another drink and top up his glass. I raise my crystal flute. “This is good, by the way.”
He undoes the top two buttons of his white shirt. “Do you want me to ready the next bottle on ice?”
What?
“I’d be happy for a G and T.”
He gives me a disapproving side-eye before moving behind the bar, where he ignores me and opens another bottle, placing it in ice. Jobe places two coupe glasses on the bar.
“Oh, the fancy boob glass.”
Jobe’s eyes hold me captive, and then his gaze lowers. “I don’t believe it’s shaped to fit yours.”
Raising a brow, I take the glass and fit the opening over my left breast. It barely covers the area around the nipple. “You’re right.” Placing the glass back on the counter, I add, “Best I use that glass now.”
Jobe’s dark expression causes my stomach to flip. “Not a chance.” He slides the glass to his side. Straightening both his arms, he leans on the counter, staring at me in a way I can’t think about anything else while prisoner to his mesmerizing eyes. “Enough about my work and fake happiness. Where do you work, Zara?”
What were we talking about? “I’m an executive assistant to the HR manager at an environmental preservation company. Penny helped me secure the position three years ago. Before that, I worked at an insurance firm. In other words, nothing exciting.”
“What excites you?”
What’s with all the serious questions?
“Workwise? Nothing at the moment. What I would love is to climb the career ladder into HR. But there’s no chance of it happening in this company, so I’m bored and ready for a change.” I down the remains of my glass. “Sick of LA if I’m being frank.”
“You’re not Frank. Or Penny, for that matter.” He gives a cheeky smile as he fills my boob glass with the newly opened bottle of Dom. “You’re Zara Indigo Hart and stop reflecting on the blue nature of indigo and find your purple.”
I frown. “Blue as in feeling blue? And what do you mean by my purple? Because it sounds cheesy coming from you.”
He raises his glass as though to salute me. “While it sounds random, a friend recently educated me on color. All part of the décor in real estate. For instance, blue is calming and serene, yet it can improve concentration and stimulate thinking. A color to improve productivity, so I had my offices painted in different shades of blue.” It sounds wanky to me, but I say nothing . “You, however, need some excitement.” Not arguing there . “Bring the purple of indigo in how you think about the future.”
I lift the glass to my lips. “Well… if we’re talking about a stand-out color, my superpower is to blend. I’m a chameleon.” I shrug. “If I could go anywhere in the world right now, I would…”
Purple… royalty…
“Work in England.” It feels like a game, and I answered right.
He nods slowly, pushes off the counter, and straightens. Jobe is not as tall as Franklin, but still my gaze lifts to meet his. “Good choice.”
I laugh, mocking him. Or, if I’m honest, mocking myself. “It won’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“Um, I know no one and have no work prospects. No visa. And my passport has expired because my life sucks.” I sound sad even to myself, so I down my drink in one go.
Woah. I close my eyes, letting the buzz wash over me. I better slow down.
“Give me your cell.”
“What?”
Jobe’s hand is outstretched, waiting, so I unlock my cell and hand it to him. He taps away, then holds it to his ear. I watch as he retrieves his cell from his trouser pocket. “I’ve sent you my details.” He hands me my cell. “What’s your address and email? If you’re serious, I have a contact who can make it happen.”
“Say what?”
“Do you want a job in London?”
Do I? I don’t want the job I’ve got—there’s nowhere to go from here—yet my career matters to me. I might not want a family, but it doesn’t mean I don’t deserve purpose. And this could be the clean break I need to get it. “I’m tempted.” I blow out a breath. “Can you really make it happen?”
He glances up from his phone and raises one eyebrow. “Ask yourself why before you make a decision.”
I shake my head as if my thoughts are muddled.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Why? Because I also deserve to be happy when around me, my friends’ lives are exploding with excitement. Their lives are one continual fireworks show, and I can’t even crack a spark of fun. I’m living vicariously through their joy, and I want a turn. Even better, an adventure. And I damn well deserve it.”
Jobe picks up his cell and taps away as I give him specifics. “Do you want me to hit send on the email?”
I lean on the bar and look him in the eye. “London,” I murmur, pondering the idea.
He walks around the bar and stands between my thighs, holding the cell close to my face. “Read it. If you’re happy, then press send.”
I skim over the words. Wow. He highly recommends me. I raise my hand, and he yanks his cell away.
“Promise me you’re making a decision based on your happiness and not running from something else.”
“Why are you doing this and being so nice to me?”
“I’m in the business of helping people attain their needs.”
We consider each other for a moment. Is he talking about other things?
“Zara?” He holds his cell closer. “I’ll delete it if you’re not sure.”
“It’s what I want.” I hit send and scream. Then I throw my arms around his neck and hug him. “I could kiss you.”
“Have you forgotten how?”
Why would he say that? Oh, I mentioned the lack of dating earlier.
Our eyes lock, and there’s a surge of heat in my chest. My arms loosen around his neck. Tonight, I’m drunk and up for the challenge because a girl never forgets how to kiss. Only what it feels like. “Of course not,” I murmur and edge closer to his lips. I pause and glance up at his eyes, which tell me he feels something too.
My lips gently brush with his, the movement slow and even. His facial hair bushes my mouth, and it ignites something deep, my pussy clenching, appreciating I’m with a man. Suddenly, we are lip-locked, his hand on the back of my head as his tongue darts in and finds mine. There’s no escape. I moan as desire rips through my body. It’s been too long, and right now, my body wants action regardless of who it is with.
I pull away, breathless, only for a moment before Jobe straightens, and I cling like a monkey, my legs wrapping around his waist. I’m enjoying this more than I should.
The softness of his mouth, the taste of whiskey and champagne on his tongue, and the way he kisses make me breathless. An equal measure of desperate longing and desire.
Lust. It has been too long, my friend.
His voice is dangerously low. “You taste fucking good.”
My stupid heart reacts again, beating erratically. More to his warm skin surrounding mine than to him. Jobe. Pushing the thought aside, I allow my hands to roam, feeling every hard muscle beneath my fingertips.
“It’s a pity you’re not my type,” I whisper.
He pulls back.
Reality hits, and I can’t help feeling the disappointment of space between us as I slide down his body to find my feet.
“And you’re not mine,” he says softly. “If we were a thing, I’d have invited one or two other guests to join us. Regrettably, I cleared all bookings for Penny to have the place to herself.”
Ugh. The man is an animal in bed...
My brain finally catches up. “I’m the possessive type and extremely jealous. You would never be happy with someone like me. I don’t share .” Maybe that’s my problem. Am I too much for men?
“Your words don’t scare me, Zara.”
I’m staring at his lips, afraid to meet his gaze, knowing what I would find if I did.
“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m warning you. You would not enjoy being with someone like me.”
I finish drinking the remains in my glass. I’m not wasting a drop of Dom. When I twist on my chair to leave, Jobe is standing behind me .
His dark eyes bore into mine. “Do not tell me what I enjoy,” he growls out.
Making another questionable decision, I jump into his arms. My tongue is already sliding with his before my brain catches up and acknowledges what comes next.
Pain above my left eye orientates me to morning.
I’m acutely aware of the sun shining into the room.
Ugh, why did I drink so much? It’s supposed to be a healthy weekend with my friends to reenergize our bodies with all the pampering every girl desires.
I sit upright in my bed, a tidal wave of horror hitting me.
Jobe is not beside me.
I fall back onto the pillow and cover my painful eyes with the back of my hand. Slowly, I lift the silk sheet and…
Shit.
I am completely naked.
And my pussy has a delicious throb.
I close my eyes and force myself to remember details. Desperate kissing. I scan the room for my dress and recall him telling me he’ll buy a new one.
Did he tear the material?
Three ripped condom packets are on the side of the bed.
I clench my eyes shut, visualizing the memory of his shoulders framing my face. Orgasming loudly.
I am so embarrassed.
The alarm on my cell sounds, and I quickly silence it.
Jesus, I just fucked my best friend’s brother-in-law, and I don’t even like him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Especially when I can’t remember details.
Can he ?
He left before I woke up…
A sign of instant regret? Is he mortified as I am? Or should I interpret it as a cold rejection?
Oh, for the love of God. I now have to face him at breakfast.
After showering and dressing, ready for another day of pampering, I take the stairs down to the restaurant. Before walking through the French doors, I hold my breath, then let it out when there is no sign of Jobe.
“Morning,” I sing and straighten my hair as though it has a freshly fucked style despite my shower.
“Morning, babe. What would you like to eat?” Penny’s cheeks glow with motherhood agreeing with her.
“I’ll have what everyone else is having.”
Blending again. My traitorous stomach growls. I cannot drink the ginger and green juice today. “I’m not late, am I? Jobe’s still not here?” I question innocently.
“No, he had to rush back to the office for a crisis meeting,” Franklin says offhandedly, as though it happens all the time.
My shoulders relax, and I push the weird disappointment out of my head, taking it as a change of luck with something going my way for once.
My cell pings with an email.
Dear Zara,
We received your email and intent to work with us in our London office. We will look over your credentials and be in contact within the week.
Yours sincerely,
Anthony Warburto n
Warburton Investment
Oh, my God, it’s happening. He was good on his word.
Heat creeps up into my cheeks, remembering more about last night. I take a deep breath to compose myself before taking a seat beside Penny, tucking away my phone. The way Hugh is staring at me, he notices something is up.
Are you okay ? he mouths.
I nod with a smile.
I love my friends, but I’m ready for my own journey.
I am more than okay.