Chapter 7
ELLA
“Oh my god, Ella,” Matthew says, fanning his face with his hand. He’s standing beside a large black, and very fancy car, outside Zahra’s building. “You look so hot. Like, I almost forgot I was gay for a second, you look so hot.”
I laugh and give him a hug. “You look freaking hot, yourself,” I say, appreciating his tight fitted shirt and pants.
“Asher and Emily decided we’re all going to start at the same club so we can get on the same page, then our groups will break up from there.”
The door to the car opens, and Mr. Langford steps out. I freeze for a second. What is he doing here? When Matthew said he’d be coming to pick me up, I assumed he meant in his own car. Not Mr. Langford’s.
My mouth goes dry. He’s still in his black suit, but his tie is loosened, and his collar is open a bit. I’ve tried to ignore his beauty since yesterday, because I didn’t want it to affect my work performance, but I can’t ignore it now. It’s slapping me in the face.
My heart stutters.
“Ella,” Mr. Langford says, straightening up. In surprise? His brows lift, then he settles his face into neutrality. “You ready?” he asks Matthew.
“Yes, let’s go.”
Mr. Langford moves to the side, holding the door open for me. “Thank you,” I say, as I climb in, bending to the side a little awkwardly to keep from flashing my ass to the CEO. God, what an insane problem to have on a Tuesday night.
The back of the car has two benches that face one another rather than a normal backseat.
I didn’t realize they made cars like that anymore, and I’m not sure where to sit, so I scoot all the way down the bench on the driver’s side of the car.
Matthew climbs in and sits on the opposite bench, and Mr. Langford takes a spot on the same bench as me, but on the passenger side.
A bulky security guard sits in the front passenger seat.
“Asher and I have some business to work on while we drive, I hope that’s okay,” Matthew says.
“It’s fine,” I say, quickly.
Traffic is New York traffic, so the car moves at a ridiculously slow pace. Mr. Langford leans back in his seat for a few minutes before sitting forward to take off his suit jacket. Then he loosens his tie fully, and slides it off, tossing it onto the opposite bench near Matthew.
Stop watching him undress! I silently shout to myself. But do I listen? No, because I’m a weak bitch.
Next, Mr. Langford unbuttons the wrists of his sleeves and rolls them up.
Again, I try to force myself to ignore the corded muscles of his forearms, rippling with the movement.
But again I fail, as I find that task impossible with such delectable forearm porn just two feet away from me.
Mr. Langford is a specimen of a man, and my stupid, traitorous eyes sneak peek after peek until I catch Matthew smirking at me.
I feel a blush creep up my neck, and I look away, fully embarrassed to be caught perving on Mr. Langford.
I watch out the window as Matthew and Mr. Langford discuss his schedule and the rough outline of the strategies our team has created for all of the upcoming public events that need Mr. Langford’s approval.
It all seems straightforward until Matthew mentions a memorial for Mr. Langford’s grandfather.
“No,” Mr. Langford growls. “That one is off limits.”
The air in the car charges with a strained energy.
What is that about?
Matthew looks at him with a soft expression. “Of course. I will let the team know. The board, however, may be a problem. They specifically outlined things they wanted for that event.”
“I am already jumping through the board’s hoops like a good little boy; they can fuck off on this.”
“Tell. Board. To. Fuck. Off,” Matthew says in a monotone voice, typing the instruction in his phone.
Mr. Langford chuckles, and the tension in the car melts away.
The twenty-fifth anniversary of his grandfather’s death is in five months, and his grandfather is being honored posthumously by a few organizations.
There’s also a statue in his honor that will be unveiled.
It’s an official event on Mr. Langford’s schedule, so we were instructed to come up with two or three suggestions of what could be done as far as PR for the event to help Mr. Langford’s image. But apparently that one is out, now.
Which is fine. I can understand wanting to keep something so personal and private away from a calculating team of employees.
I’ve never met anyone on the board, but man, they seem savage.
I’m glad Mr. Langford is putting his foot down on something he feels strongly about, like the memorial and picking a woman who will fit his needs better than women the board suggested.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of a clutch I borrowed from Zahra. Craig’s name flashes on the caller ID. I sigh without meaning to. Matthew’s brows raise in silent question as I answer the call.
“Hey, Craig, what’s up?”
“Where are you? Everyone’s here except you. We just ordered drinks, and we’re about to hit the floor.”
“I thought we were having a meeting first.”
“Emily just wants to give us some parameters, but if you ask me, it’s a waste of time. And at this point, I don’t know if it’s going to happen, everyone is too anxious to get going.”
I raise my brows and shake my head at Matthew in disbelief.
“What is that buffoon saying now?” Matthew asks.
“Put it on speaker,” Mr. Langford says in a low voice.
I do as he says and hold the phone out so the three of us can hear.
“It doesn’t matter if everyone is anxious, they need to wait,” I say. “This isn’t a personal clubbing night. We’re here for a very specific job, and that job doesn’t start until after our meeting.”
“The meeting is bullshit. It’s not like the directive of the night is hard. Find a hot girl who is available, needs money, and would be willing to fake date our boss.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s grossly oversimplifying it. And we’re definitely not just looking for a hot girl. She needs to be a woman, not some sorority girl. I want to make sure you’re clear on that.”
“Yeah, yeah. A hot woman who wants to get paid to fake date our boss.”
“Please promise me that if you happen to speak to any women tonight you will not use the phrase, ‘fake date my boss.’ Remember the NDA you signed? We can’t go broadcasting what we’re doing to every hot girl in the damn club.
What do you think the press will do if they get even a whiff of this?
They will have a field day, and Mr. Langford will be butchered in the media.
You need to take this more seriously. This is your job. ”
“Calm down, Ella. Why are you on my case? I am going to do my job. I don’t need a whole lecture on how to do it.”
“You sure about that?” I snap. “Because today I feel like I need to draw you a damn map to follow.”
I clamp my mouth shut and peek over at Matthew and Mr. Langford.
I normally wouldn’t speak to a coworker like this, but Craig has been nothing but a pain in the ass for the last two days.
He’s abrasive, obnoxious, has the delicacy of a rhino, and is clueless about women.
This job is going to be difficult enough without having to babysit an incompetent coworker.
It’s only been two days and I’ve already had it with him.
But as I look at Matthew and Mr. Langford, neither of them seems to be troubled by my outburst.
“Don’t be a bitch,” Craig says in a petulant voice.
“Excuse me?”
He hangs up before I can respond. I look at Matthew and then Mr. Langford. His eyes flash, murderous.
“Which one is Craig?” he asks, low and menacing. A shiver whispers up my spine. “The blond one or the brunette one?”
“Blond,” Matthew and I say in unison.
“How did that asshole end up on this team?”
“I’ve been asking myself that all day,” Matthew says.
“I’d never met him before yesterday, even though we’re both from marketing,” I say, “but I’m pretty sure he and his former team had good sales.
Though now that I think about it, it’s because their team did a lot of marketing and branding for men’s products and men’s lines.
He’s a dude-bro through and through. That’s what he’s good at.
Delicate matters of dating and women? Not so much. ”
I’m not one to throw coworkers under the bus, and I feel slightly bad about it, but at the same time, this is not a project we can take lightly.
Our entire job is to help Mr. Langford’s image, and if we mess it up, we’ll destroy his reputation.
And then we’ll all lose our jobs. For the last two days, Craig has constantly been cracking jokes when Mr. Langford wasn’t around and treating this like some lascivious good-time project instead of like an actual project.
As Zahra has mentioned to me many times, we have a weird job, but it’s still a job.
And I’m not willing to lose mine because Craig has the maturity of a horny fourteen-year-old boy.
“I’ve never fired anyone inside a club before,” Mr. Langford says. “This should be fun.”
Matthew’s face pulls into a sinister smile.
At last, the car pulls up to the club, and Matthew and Mr. Langford get out of the car first. I scoot over to follow them out of the passenger side, and a hand reaches out to help me.
As soon as I take it, I know it isn’t Matthew’s.
It’s too large. I swallow hard as I look up and step out of the car with Mr. Langford’s help.
Matthew and the security guard start to walk toward the entrance, but Mr. Langford makes no move to follow them.
His hand stays wrapped around mine as we stand on the curb, facing one another, only a handful of inches separating us.
My breath catches in my chest as his ice blue eyes trail down to my dress and slowly make their way back up to my face, heating as they go.
I can’t stop my own eyes from fixating on the bob of his throat as he swallows.