"No," he rumbled in my ear. "I have to fuck you. Now."
"Why? Are you marking your territory?" I'd only been half serious with the comment, but he pulled back and the look in his eyes said that was exactly what he was doing.
I wriggled out of his gr...
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One of the deliverymen spotted me and nodded his head in my direction. Panic bubbled in my chest as Mariah turned to see what he was gesturing at. I ducked back around the corner, but not before she saw me.
“Bey?”
Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t want to see her, didn’t want her to see me.
Her heels clicked as she walked down the hall toward the bedroom. “Beyoncé, is that you?” She peeked into the room and found me pressed against the wall, still dressed only in a towel.
“Hi.”
“Wow.” Her smile brightened as her eyes moved up and down my body, taking in my lack of clothing. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
This was ridiculous. I was acting like I’d been caught doing something wrong, but I hadn’t. I had every right to be there and, as far as I knew, Mariah did not.
I straightened my back and stepped away from the wall. “I didn’t expect you either. Shawn didn’t say you were delivering the books.”
Mariah shook her head. “He didn’t know. He ordered them through my office and my schedule was open today, so I thought I’d make sure they got here okay and help unpack them if need be.”
“You have a key.” It was honestly the only thing going through my mind at that point, and I hated how pathetic I sounded mentioning it. I had a key too, after all.
She leaned her shoulder against the door jam. “I do. Since I did the interior decorating. We’re always updating, and we thought it was easiest for me to keep a key.” Her eyes glanced over to the unmade bed, sheets in disarray from my night with Shawn. When she looked back at me, her smile seemed wider. “I did buzz though before I came up and there was no answer.”
“I was in the shower.”
“I see that.” She winked, and I knew she was saying that she was seeing more than me wrapped in a towel. She was getting the whole picture.
Well, good. I was glad. Then I wouldn’t have to feel like a jerk when I spelled it out for her. Shawn and I were together now. Whatever anyone else had ever planned for Mariah and Shawn, it was moot. I was the one he’d chosen. End of discussion.
Except that discussion had only occurred in my head. Some things probably still had to be said out loud.
Mariah seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Look, let me get finished with the delivery guys and you can get dressed. Then we can chat or whatever. It seems we have some catching up to do.”
She shut the door behind her, and I let out a deep breath. I wasn’t sure why Mariah ’s presence was giving me so much anxiety. She wasn’t a threat to me. She felt like one, though. I’d been jealous of her since I’d met her. As Shawn’s oldest friend, she knew him better than anyone. He told her things. He kept her secrets. She’d been the only one who knew about Shawn and me pretending to be a couple. It was an intimate friendship they had.
Shawn had insisted that friendship was the only thing between them. I had to trust that or the envy would tear me apart. The whole charade had started in the first place so that Mariah and Shawn’s parents would stop trying to pair up the two. If there really had been something between them, then why would I have been brought into the middle?
I’d only discovered the day before that the reason the Careys and Sophia Carter were so keen on playing matchmaker was because they thought Shawn and Mariah had been together in the past. They thought Shawn was the father of the baby Mariah had miscarried. But he wasn’t, and they had never been together. The truth was worse—Shawn had played Mariah , had tricked her into falling for him, had sent her spiraling into depression and wild partying. So when she’d ended up pregnant, he felt responsible and claimed parentage.
In a way, Shawn had been responsible. But he wasn’t the man of his youth anymore. He wasn’t so responsible that his games had to follow him for the rest of his life. I couldn’t believe that. Otherwise I would have to believe the same about the things I’d done to others. Certainly even people like us—people who had been so broken that we destroyed others around us—deserved happiness of our own. We didn’t have to spend our entire existence making up for our mistakes. Did we?
I brushed the guilty thoughts out of my mind and quickly changed into a dress I could wear to the club later. I threw my wet hair into a bun and took a deep breath before opening the door.
The delivery men had already left, and I found Mariah straightening a row of boxes into an orderly line. There were dozens of boxes, many more than I had anticipated. “Damn. He went all out, didn’t he?”
Mariah looked up from her task. “He always does. But as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he has lots of shelves to fill.”
I scanned the room for the first time. A large mahogany desk sat at the far end surrounded by a curved wall of windows. Two armchairs and a long sofa created a sitting area in the middle of the room. A beautiful marble fireplace graced the center of one wall with a large flat-screen television set centered above it. The rest of the wall space was filled with shelves. Shelves and shelves—a booklover’s dream. Except that only one small section near the desk had any books on it.
“Uh, yeah. These boxes are barely going to put a dent in that shelf space.”
“He ordered more, but this is what was already in stock. The rest should come in the next few days or so. And, yes, he’ll still have a lot of empty space. Maybe you can help him fill the rest.”
Was that supposed to be a leading statement? Was she trying to get me to open up about Shawn?
If she wanted to know, she’d have to come out and ask. I responded to her statement with a simple, “Maybe.” I joined her in pushing the boxes into a line against the wall, doing a count of them as I did. Twenty-seven in total. Guess I knew how I was spending my afternoon. Unpacking books—the thought had me more excited than it should.
I nudged the last box into line with the others and turned to find Mariah staring at me, arms crossed over her chest, one light brow cocked. “So. You and Shawn.”
“Yeah. Crazy, right?” Mariah had only ever been nice to me. Why was this so awkward?
“It’s real then? You’re really together?”
“We are. No more pretending. It’s the real deal now.” It felt strange to say that. With other relationships my declarations were most likely exaggerations. Was I exaggerating now?
No. I wasn’t. This was real.
“Since when?” The question didn’t sound disbelieving, but curious. Excited, even. “I was with him Monday and he didn’t say anything had changed between you, though he did seem awfully lovesick. I thought he was being moody about his business-whatever that was going on. But now that I see you here, I’m thinking it was about you.”
Mariah had driven Shawn from his parents’ house in the Hamptons to the airport for his business emergency with Plexis. “Just since yesterday. When he came back from Cincinnati, we sort of had it out and then—” I suddenly realized the source of the awkwardness. Though Mariah and Shawn hadn’t ever been together for real, she had thought she loved him. I had no reason to be jealous of her, but she had plenty reason to be jealous of me. “Is this weird for me to talk about?”
“Weird? Why?” Her face relaxed with understanding. “Oh, he told you.”
“He did.” I wasn’t sure how she’d feel knowing I knew such intimate details of her life. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”
“No, not at all. It surprises me. He’s never talked about it with anyone. I’m not even sure he told his therapist.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “What exactly did he say? Do you mind me asking?”
“Of course not, it’s only fair I tell you. But can we sit down first?” Maybe sitting would get rid of the confrontational feeling between us.
She nodded and we made our way to the sofa. I sat facing her, my legs curled up underneath me. “Well. He, um, explained about how he, uh, made you fall for him and then slept with your best friend. He said it was all a game. Which makes sense now, how you knew that he did that to women.” Mariah had been the one who’d filled me in on Shawn’s mind games.
“Yep. I spoke from experience.” Her voice had lost some of its usual cheerfulness, but nothing seemed to indicate that talking to me was painful or unpleasant.
Her ease helped me go on. “And he told me about the baby.”
I watched her chest rise and fall before she responded. “What did he say about that?”
“That you didn’t know who the father was, so he said it was his. So you wouldn’t be disowned or disgraced or whatever. Since he felt responsible for the situation.” Even though none of the information was new to Mariah —she’d lived it, after all—a part of me felt guilty for sharing things Shawn had told me in confidence.
Another part of me, a bigger part, wanted to know more about his rocky past and getting anything out of him was difficult, to say the least. Mariah ’s unexpected arrival brought an opportunity to learn, and I wasn’t throwing that away.
“Hmm. Well, that about covers all of it.” She tapped a long peach-painted nail on her knee as she processed. “Silly Shawn. He shouldn’t feel responsible for anything. I was a grown woman. I can own up to my actions. He doesn’t still feel that way, does he?”
“Yeah. I think he still does.” I didn’t think he did, I knew it. It was the reason he kept himself so closed off, the reason it had been so hard for him to let me in. Because of his mother or his therapist or for whatever reason, he’d been conditioned to believe that he was incapable of caring for anyone, and the horrible things he’d done to people such as Mariah was his proof. That he could take his friend and manipulate her life, cause her to act so recklessly that she got pregnant from a stranger and then lost her child—that was evidence to Shawn that he was a despicable person. Because no decent person would do that in his mind.
But to me, the fact that he was so traumatized by the things he’d put Mariah through was evidence of the contrary—he could feel. He cared enough to regret his actions. That didn’t show heartlessness. That showed humanity.
Mariah rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. He really needs to get over himself. That was practically a decade ago now. It’s old news.”
I agreed on that count. Maybe by finally having love in his life, Shawn would learn to move on.
As for Mariah , I wasn’t sure she had yet. “So you don’t still have feelings for Shawn?” It wasn’t hard for me to imagine harboring an unrequited love for ten years because I obsessed. The only reason I’d gotten over some of my past obsessions was because I’d had therapy. Not that Mariah suffered from the obsessive disorder I did, but it wasn’t unheard of to be in love with your friend for years and nothing ever coming of it. It was the material of great books.
What did that make me? In Mariah ’s story, was I the villain?
Possibly I was over-dramatizing. As always.
Mariah leaned forward and put her hand over mine, taking me off-guard. “I totally have feelings for him, Bey. He’s my best friend. I’ve loved him since I met him which was before I could even talk. But I’m not in love with him. I don’t think I ever was. He played me and I thought…well, anyway, I’m not now. My mother will tell you differently, but she believes what she wants. If I was in love with him, I would have let that arranged marriage thing work out instead of supporting a sham to throw our parents off.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” I took my hand away from hers before it felt creepy. It already felt creepy—I wasn’t much of a touchy-feely person. “Then it doesn’t bother you that we’re together?”
“Bother me? I’m happy for him! For both of you, actually. Truthfully, I was beginning to think Sophia was right, that he couldn’t possibly love anyone because he’d never shown any inclination toward anyone. Except to mess with them, of course. It was really very sad. This is definitely a change for the better.”
I wanted to be happy with her. Except when she’d brought up Shawn’s past, it reawakened one of my greatest fears.
“What did I say?” Mariah asked.
She must have seen the worry in my expression. I never did have a good poker face. “Nothing.” It was probably best that I didn’t say anything. Only, Mariah might be the one person I could talk to about it. The one person who would understand and give me insight.
I shifted, bringing my knees up to my chest. “It’s just, I’ve been worrying it was too good to be true, and I keep wondering if maybe I’m…if he’s…”
“If he’s playing you, too?”
My brown eyes met her blues. “Yes.”
She nodded once and frowned. “That is something I’d worry about.”
Well, that wasn’t the consolation I was hoping for.
“I’m not saying you should be worried,” she added. “It would just cross my mind as a possibility. Especially knowing his past, and since this arrangement or relationship he has with you is so entirely different than anything he’s ever had before.”
“You know him, what do you think?” Jesus, my lip quivered when I spoke. How pathetic was I?
She tapped her finger on her knee again. “I don’t think he’s playing that game anymore. Really, I don’t. He’s had counseling, and it’s been a good two years since he’s had any…incidents.”
I made a mental note to ask what she meant about incidents at another time. Right now, though, it wasn’t enough of a priority to interrupt.
“I guess he could be having a relapse, but…” Her words trailed off. “What has he said to you?”
“That he wants to be with me. That’s he’s committed to making a relationship work.” Or similar things that I didn’t want to share. They were my words and not meant to be given away to just anyone.
Mariah scooted an inch closer to me as if we were in a room full of people and she was about to divulge a secret. “Let me tell you something about Shawn and the way he plays women. He doesn’t lie. Ever. That’s the brilliant part of his manipulative skills. He never says anything that you can throw back at him later. It’s all truth spun to make you read more into what he’s saying. He makes you think he’s offering more than what he’s really offering without ever saying the words. You know what I mean?”
“I think so.” Now that I thought about it, I knew exactly what she meant. Shawn chose his words so precisely and handled himself with such care that I could see how he’d be able to spin any situation so that he’d have the upper hand. It was what made him a good businessman, I imagined.
“So if he’s said those things to you, I’d believe them,” Mariah reassured. “And he’s never, ever brought a woman to his penthouse before. That’s common knowledge. Even Sophia knows that. He’s never wanted anyone to be able to find him after he, you know, broke their heart.”
That made total sense. If you were a guy playing people, you wouldn’t want them to have access to your private life. I’d felt almost the same when I’d feared my ability to remain aloof from him—I hadn’t wanted to know where he lived so that I wouldn’t latch on.
Funny how we both were now in exactly the positions we hadn’t ever thought we’d be in.
Mariah was watching me, gauging my reactions. I could sense she wanted to say more, but perhaps didn’t know how. “Has he said…how he feels about you?”
“Yes.” Well…“No.” But he had implied it. Now I couldn’t even quite remember what he had said and the ball of worry in my stomach began to tighten. “I mean, he’s said some things, but he hasn’t actually said he loved me.”
But I knew he meant it. Right?
Mariah smiled. “I don’t think he’s ever told anyone he loved them. Not even his mother. So that might be a while, if ever. Don’t take that omission as a sign of anything.” She straightened. “No, I think you’re good. I think this is good. I think it’s real.” She clapped her hands together. “Yay! Shawn Carter has a girlfriend! How exciting!”
“Yeah, it is exciting.” The warmth of it spread through my body. “Totally exciting.” Because none of this had happened to me before. I’d never had a relationship with someone who returned my feelings. Every guy I’d found to be the one never had a chance to see if they felt the same before I ruined it by clinging and suffocating. And the times I’d thought I’d been in love I’d really been more in love with the idea of someone being in love with me. I’d learned that through group therapy. That was why I held on to any slim nugget of interest a guy threw my way—because I so desperately yearned to be loved.
But this time, I wasn’t being desperate and I wasn’t clinging and I wasn’t obsessing. Not more than reasonably, anyway. It was definite cause for celebrating.
I beamed at Mariah . “I can’t tell you how good it feels to talk to someone about him. Thank you so much.”
“I bet. And no problem. Any time.” She paused. “How are things going with Sophia?”
“I don’t know.” More like I didn’t care. Shawn’s mother and I were never going to be friends. Not when she’d belittled me and called me a slut. Not when she was so against Shawn finding anything good in life. “I told her off the last time I saw her. I’m hoping I don’t have to deal with her anytime soon.”
“Oh. You don’t have plans to see her then? Like, to show her your coupledom and everything?” She seemed surprised by that, and perhaps it was surprising after the lengths Shawn had gone to show me off to his mother when we weren’t actually a couple.
“No, thank god. I think Shawn’s given up on convincing her of anything. Which is fine by me.”
“Totally. Who needs Sophia?”
I didn’t, that was for sure. But Mariah , on the other hand...“You’re chummy with her.” We’d addressed everything else, might as well address Sophia too.
“Well, I live by that friends close, enemies closer philosophy. It works for me.”
“Yeah it does. She adores you.” I may have sounded a little bit jealous. Which was ridiculous since I hated Sophia Carter.
“She adores me because she adores my mother. Besides, she thinks that if I’m with Shawn, she’ll have complete access to his life. Like I’d share anything personal with her. I have her snowed, that’s all.”
“Then all I have to do to get her on my side is to snow her too?”
“Maybe.” Mariah ’s eyes narrowed as she considered. Then she shook her head. “Seriously, forget her. She’s not worth it. Have you heard about the time that Shawn told her—” The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed once. “Oh, my, is it really one o’clock already?” Mariah checked her watch. “It really is. I have a full afternoon. I’ve got to get going.” She stood and smoothed down her dress. “I’m sorry to rush off like this. It was great talking to you.”
“Yeah, this was nice.” I hated to admit it, but I was disappointed to see her go. Especially when she was about to tell me a story about Shawn. She had so much to offer in terms of understanding him. She’d already made me feel better and there was so much more to be gained from speaking with her.
“We should totally get together again,” Mariah exclaimed, almost at the exact moment I was thinking it. “Here.” She pulled a card out of her purse and handed it to me. “My cell is on here. Call me and we can do coffee. Tomorrow, maybe?”
“I’d like that.” I took the card from her, glancing at the print. Mariah Carey, Corporate and Private Interior Design.
“Awesome. Give me a call in the morning then.” She paused. “Oh, and if I don’t answer, keep calling. I have a nasty habit of leaving my phone in random places and if you call over and over then I will get to you. And I’ll find my phone! It’s a total win-win.”
I laughed at her method of phone control. “Perfect.”
“Great! Tomorrow then. Give Shawn my love.” She started toward the library door and then stopped and turned back to me, her hand clutched against her chest. “You know, it really is about time Shawn had someone in his life, and I’m so glad it’s someone who loves and understands him as it seems you do.” Her words and actions would seem overly dramatic for most people, yet she was just classy enough to get away with it.
“Thanks. I do. I get him.” Probably more than either he or I knew yet.
“I know you do.” Her face grew serious. “He’s told me things about you, too. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”
She could only be referring to my crazy stalker past. Some of it was quite embarrassing. I’d violated a restraining order once. For that, I had a police record. It was buried now, by Shawn and my lawyer brother, but that didn’t change that it had happened. That I had done that. It was only one of a long list of many shitty things I’d done.
Normally I would have been humiliated to find that someone knew about my history. But right then, with all the good that was going on with Shawn, I didn’t. “No, it doesn’t bother me. Surprisingly.”
“Good.” She smiled. “I won’t tell anyone, of course. I’m glad that I know though. I can see how perfect you are for him because of what you’ve been through yourself. I’m on your side.”
“Thank you. I’m very grateful.”
She winked. “Okay, well, I’m off. Good luck!”
I stood in the library thinking over Mariah ’s visit long after she had gone and I had programmed her number into my phone. I was looking forward to having coffee with her, and, the truth was, that made me feel twitchy. As sure as I was that she could be the most reliable source of Shawn insider knowledge, I was also sure he’d be none too happy about it. And rightly so. If I wanted to learn about his past, I should go through him.
Still, could it really hurt to have coffee?
I decided to put my decision off until the morning.
Scanning the dozens of boxes once again, I decided to open some up and start unpacking them on the shelves. Shawn had said to make myself at home, and it would keep me from snooping. Even though I’d gotten permission, it wasn’t the healthiest behavior.
I found a letter opener in one of Shawn’s drawers and, kneeling beside one of the boxes, I used the opener to cut through the packaging tape. Molière was on top, along with a copy of Shakespeare. Underneath, I found several other classics from Dante to Dickens. I sat back on my heels and looked at the shelves, formulating a plan to organize the library.
My library.
Shawn hadn’t said it was mine, but I couldn’t help but think of it as such. I loved books—not only the stories they contained, but the feel of them in my hands, the silk of the pages, the words all collected in one place. Shawn didn’t have any interest in physical books. Obviously. His bare shelves were proof of that. He read everything on his e-reader. These were my books. I’d already adopted them and was sure Shawn wouldn’t protest. He’d only ordered them to fool his mother, even though I doubted Sophia visited his penthouse very often.
Also in the stack of lies told to Sophia, Shawn had declared I was moving in with him. How long before that became a reality?
No, I couldn’t plan for that. Like I’d told myself earlier, it was too soon, and we weren’t ready.
But would it really hurt to fantasize about it for a few minutes? To imagine living with him in the penthouse? And more? Me running the nightclub with Shawn at my side. Engagement rings and bridal parties flashed through my daydream. Was it really so bad to hope for?
Yes. It was. I had to stop now because daydreaming could very easily lead to fixation. I needed a substitute obsession. Something else to occupy my mind.
I tried to return my focus to the books, but again my mind wandered to the future—weddings and the club and parties.
That was when the idea hit me. I abandoned my task and found my phone to call Jordan. I needed a ride.
***
“Bachelorette parties?” Kendrick Lamar leaned back in the desk chair and swiveled from side to side.
I hadn’t been sure Kendrick would be at The Sky Launch so early in the day, but I’d lucked out. He was the general manager of the nightclub, and since Shawn had relinquished the running of the business to him, he was the one I needed to approach with any ideas for improvement.
Which was why I’d come in more than six hours before my shift started to share my stroke of genius. “Yes. Bachelorette parties.”
“Seriously? That’s your big idea?”
“Come on, it’s perfect!” I threw my hands up for emphasis. This was a good idea, and talking about it calmly had not seemed to have done the trick of convincing Kendrick . “It’s wedding season and the bubble rooms are the perfect place for privacy while still being surrounded by the club scene. You know as well as I do the stuff that goes on in those rooms.”
The bubble rooms were, in my opinion, the highlight of The Sky Launch. The ten circular rooms ran the circumference of the second floor. Each room had its own entrance and was completely enclosed to ensure privacy. Or rather, a sense of privacy. It was an illusion since each of the rooms also had a window that overlooked the dance floor below and if you looked across, you could see everything that happened on the other side. Plenty of times, the things that went on in those rooms were rated R and, more often, rated X.
The bubbles, however, had been neglected in promotion for as long as I’d been an employee of the club. I’d gotten my promotion partly on the promise to find ways to better use the unique feature. Promoting them for bachelorette parties—that plan was gold.
Kendrick didn’t seem to have the vision I did. “We’ve had bachelorette parties in here before. Not many, but a few.”
“And they always go well, don’t they?”
“The customers are always pleased.” He twisted his lips as he considered.
With his constant fidgeting and weird faces, I wondered briefly how I’d ever thought I was attracted to the man.
The answer was that I hadn’t been. Not truly. Kendrick had been a nice option when I’d been too afraid to go after any men who really turned me on. I’d thought I could have a future with him. I’d figured that being with a man like Kendrick was the cure to my obsession—not actually caring for him kept me from the outrageous behavior of my past.
And he’d been cute enough. We’d never gone all the way, but we’d come pretty close, and becoming aroused had never been a problem.
All thoughts of Kendrick had disappeared when Shawn entered my life. I gave up the safe bet for the real thing, and, even with the ups and downs of loving Shawn, I didn’t regret it one bit.
Kendrick regretted it, however. He wanted something more between us and had told me so just the day before. But he knew where my feelings lay. He knew whom my heart belonged to.
Now he brought his pen up to his mouth and bit on the already chewed end. Pen between his teeth, he asked, “How do you expect to draw people to book the rooms for that?”
“Marketing.” Obviously. That had been my emphasis area of my newly acquired MBA, and I was anxious to use it. It was what I had to offer the nightclub—my expertise. “We’ve never advertised those rooms to any specific market. They’re underutilized and wasted space compared to what they could be used for. And if we bundled the rooms in packages designed specifically for soon-to-be-married brides, I think we could really attract some attention.”
“Yeah, I see some potential.” Finally. “What’s your strategy?”
“I need some time to put it all together into a formal plan, but I’m thinking I could book some meetings with wedding planners. If I can offer a good deal, they’d tell their clients. Maybe we can give them referral bonuses or offer them a certain percentage of our booking fee as a kickback. But first we need to design some packages. Include some party trays and a certain dollar amount from the bar and we’ve got something to sell.”
Behind me, my phone beeped with an incoming text. It had died on my way to the club right after I texted Shawn my plans for the afternoon. Luckily I had a spare charger I kept in the office by the file cabinets and I’d plugged it in as soon as I arrived. “So what do you think?” I asked as I crossed to my phone.
“I think you’re onto something. Let’s do it.”
I grinned triumphantly before glancing down at my message.
“I’ve arranged the cook. Will you still be home for dinner?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I responded, his use of the word home making me as giddy as it had that morning.
“Carter?”
Kendrick ’s question broke through my euphoria. “Yeah, it’s Shawn.”
“Something good?”
I hadn’t realized I’d been smiling until then. “Everything good.”
Leaving the phone to continue charging, I returned to the chair I’d been sitting in. “I’m meeting him for dinner. Don’t worry, I’ll be back by the time my shift starts.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about changing your schedule.” Kendrick stood and came around the front of the desk, leaning on the corner. “I promoted you so that you could do this kind of stuff. We have enough managerial coverage. If we need someone else—which I’m sure we will if your plans work out like I know they will—Megan’s ready to be a manager. Your gift, what you bring to The Sky Launch, is your business ideas. I need you to go work magic. That’s not my department.”
“So,” I furrowed my brow, “what are you saying?”
“I’m saying make your own schedule. I need you on the clock forty hours a week—not a problem for you, you work addict—but you can put it in whenever you need it. Set up those meetings with the wedding planners. And I’d like to go forward with your idea of expanding hours and our services. That’s going to take a lot of daytime planning as well. You’ll need to meet with cooks and additional staff. It’s going to be a lot of work.”
It felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my head. “Seriously? I mean, seriously do all that amazing stuff and make my own hours?” This was my dream job coming to fruition. All the hours of fighting with my brother Brian about wasting my education and the job opportunities I’d turned down with Fortune 500 companies—this made every doubt and heartache worth it.
“Yes, seriously. I wouldn’t joke about this shit. Start with taking tonight off.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t run the upstairs bar with one person.”
“Megan’s coming in. It’s already covered.”
Of course Megan would agree to work a shift for me. She was pretty much my one and only friend in the city. Half space cadet, half genius, she was everything I wasn’t—free and laid-back and flirtatious without having to worry about becoming attached. Even though we were complete opposites, she understood me like no one else and was much more generous to me than I often deserved. “She worked for me the whole time I was in the Hamptons. I can’t make her do that.”
“She volunteered. We hired that new waitress, and Megan’s determined she be trained right—her words, not mine. And if you’re going to set up some meetings for tomorrow, you’ll need to adjust to being awake during the day. Right now you’re sort of a vampire.” He moved his eyes down my legs. “A tan vampire, but a vamp nonetheless.”
I laughed, hiding my unease at the obvious lust in his stare. I stood to put us on the same level. Otherwise it felt like he was looking down at nothing but tits. “Thank you, Kendrick . Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m…” There weren’t words for how grateful I was for this opportunity. “Just thank you.”
“You deserve it.” He straightened from his leaning position and threw his arms out to his sides. “Hug it out?”
“That got me in trouble last time.” Shawn had walked in on that and been pretty pissed. He wasn’t a man who shared. I’d managed to talk him down, convinced him my hug with Kendrick had been innocent, which it had been, as far as I was concerned. Still, Shawn suspected there was something more between me and Kendrick . And, like a chicken-shit, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to admit he was right. Kendrick and I did have a history. But compared to what I felt for Shawn, it seemed like an insignificant detail.
I stuck my hand out toward Kendrick . “Settle for a handshake?”
He nodded as he took my hand. He held it much longer than he should have, his thumb caressing along my skin, sending unwanted goose bumps down my arms.
I pulled away, hoping he hadn’t noticed. Though I felt nothing for Kendrick , my body still reacted to his. He was plain but attractive—his eyes a dull brown, his hair dark black and coily He worked out but had a stocky frame. He’d never been my type, and my reaction was likely only out of habit. But it was enough to make me feel a weight of sudden guilt—I shouldn’t hide my past with Kendrick from Shawn. I’d been quick to accuse him of keeping secrets in our relationship, and here I was doing exactly that. It was wrong, and I knew it.
I also knew I wouldn’t tell him. I doubted he’d let me continue working with Kendrick if he knew we’d had a past, and if he found out on his own, my silence might help in my defense. I’d explain to Shawn that I didn’t say anything because there was nothing to say. He’d understand.
Maybe if I kept telling myself that, I’d eventually believe it.
