by Lauren Runow
“I can’t always be there to pick up the pieces. You got yourself in this predicament. Leave me out of it.” I turn to leave, needing out of this conversation.
“I’ll fix this,” Beckett yells after me. “I’ll find out who that fucker is myself. I’ll get it back. I promise you that. You know I don’t stop until I get what I want.”
My body freezes. I know Beckett. If there’s one thing about him, it’s that he’s persistent.
I get up close to him, pushing my finger into his chest. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully. You will not go after him. You will not try to find him. You will take your loss and move on. You hear me?”
To my surprise, he lets me storm off down the street. I’m sure I just surprised the hell out of him, as I did myself. I’ve never raised my voice to my brother, and I’m not sure what came over me, but it felt so good to finally say exactly what was on my mind.
My entire bus ride to work, I focus on bringing down my emotions that have gone from anger to guilt and are now morphing into a sad kind of hurt.
I was ten years old when my mom died of cancer. The day of her funeral, Beckett went out and set fire to our tree house. It was a dilapidated old thing, but it was our safe haven. I still don’t understand why he chose to take his anger out on it. Was it the memory of happy times he wanted to destroy, or did he secretly hope to get burned in the flames?
The fire was put out quickly, but the aftereffects lasted for years. My father gave Beckett his first beating that night. I can still hear his cries and the slap of leather on his bare skin. You’d think that’d have been enough to make Beckett run the straight and narrow. It had the opposite effect. It was almost like he wanted to be punished.
For thirteen years, I’ve been following in his shadow, trailing behind to make sure he doesn’t veer too far off course of what I think is the right path he needs to be on. That’s why I begged him to take me to the race that first night. He didn’t want me to go, but I stole his keys and bullied my way into the passenger seat. I had to see with my own eyes just how he was going to self-destruct next.
Him losing his car is not a surprise. Hell, I half-expected it. I can’t blame Austin for something Beckett did willingly. If it wasn’t Austin, it would have been some other driver.
As I enter the lobby of Sexton Media, I pray Austin keeps his distance from me today. I’m still mad at him. I’m still hurt. I’m still … I don’t know.
Bryce’s office door is closed when I get in, so I take the time to put my lunch in the refrigerator in the break room and grab Bryce’s mail from the postal center. Before heading back, I run to the restroom to look myself over, making sure my face isn’t an open book of emotions.
At my desk, I busy myself with reading the dailies and printing a cross line comparison of all the papers Sexton Media owns in the fashion that Bryce likes the information to be presented. My mind is laser-focused on the task, but when the door to Bryce’s office opens, I don’t have to look up to know that the person who is exiting is Austin. All my attention is fixated on those steely-blue eyes as he slowly closes the door behind him.
His look is disarming, so different from when he’s Falcon. When he’s in disguise, I feel more empowered, knowing that I have him at his most vulnerable. But, when he’s in his corporate stance in his dark gray suit and blue tie, standing like a man of power and promise, I could easily let myself be the vulnerable one. Especially when he gazes down at me through dark lashes and lifts that square jaw—like he is right now—as if appraising me, searching my soul to decipher my every sin and solace. It’s bewitching, to say the least.
He stands there with a vague expression. His eyes look like he wants to speak, but his mouth is unmoving. Whatever it is he must want to say will go untold because he releases the doorknob and turns toward his own office.
My heart sinks a bit, and I bite my bottom lip, wondering why his retreat bothers me so.
I’m watching him walk down the hall when, suddenly, his feet halt on the carpet. Since he’s not facing me, he can’t see the confused expression all over my face.
He asks over his shoulder, “Can you keep a secret?”
It only takes a second for me to reply, “I already have so many of yours. So, the question is, do you trust me?”
His head lowers, and I can see his shoulders tense with his fists clenched at his sides. He takes a deep inhale, making his back rise. When he exhales, he turns to face me, and I’m floored by what I’m seeing. I might have only known him a short time, but his gaze is laced with remorse.
“Take a walk with me,” he demands. Yes, it’s a demand, not a request.
Any nerves I thought I had when I saw him fly out the window, and frustration sets right back in. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“I have something I want to show you.” He looks away and then back at me. “Somewhere actually.”
“Here at Sexton?” I swirl my finger in the air. “HR showed me everything I needed to see.”
He takes a step forward. “They didn’t show you … everything.”
“What, like your office? No, thanks. I’ll pass.” I look back at my computer and focus on the screen even though it’s the least interesting thing to me right now.
“I have no doubt you’ll see it one day soon, but no, that’s not what I meant. Come with me.”
He holds out his hand, and I stare at it.
“Look, I’m not really wanting to start my new job as the office slut. So, if you don’t mind, I’d rather just focus on what I have to do here and stick to myself. You’ve already caused enough drama in my life.”
He takes a step forward and places two hands on my desk. “I do mind.” He smells amazing, and the way his words tickle my ear sends chills down my spine. “And don’t worry. Kristen, on the fifth floor, is the office slut. At the rate she’s going, you’ll have to be here awhile to gain that title.” His mouth quirks up to the side with the little joke.
I laugh even though I know I shouldn’t. I don’t know anything about this girl, and a part of me is sad to hear she’s gained such a reputation. But I can’t help but be surprised by this lighter side of him.
“Let’s take a walk,” he says.
And, like the fool I am for getting into his car that night, I take his hand and allow him to lead me on another adventure.
“Really?” I pause, folding my arms over my chest and shaking my head. “If you think something’s going to happen in the stairwell, you have surely lost your mind.”
After leaving my desk and following Austin down Executive Row, he leads me through a corridor and into the back stairwell. When the steel door closes behind me, I find the space cold and eerie—an odd place to find yourself alone with your boss. And, being that we’re on the top floor, I can easily assume that we’re not walking down twenty-two floors.
He laughs at my comment, and I make a mental note that I have to stop making him do that because my stomach flutters every time.
“Don’t worry; I won’t touch you until you want me to. I’m your boss, remember?” He smirks and heads toward the staircase that leads up. To where, I have no idea.
“We’re already on the top floor. Where are you going?”
“You trust me with your life in my car. Don’t you trust me here?”
“It’s not exactly trust that drives me when it comes to you. Besides, that first night, I was forced into your Camaro. You don’t take no for an answer.”
He turns around and backs me up into the door—not forcibly but rather protectively. He’s so close, I feel his heart beating through his shirt, and his warmth penetrates all over my body.
“Last night, you asked me to stop making assumptions about you. I think it’s time that you abide by the same rules. I have never and would never force a woman to do anything she didn’t want willingly.”
My eyes open wide, and I swallow.
His knuckle grazes my cheek. “All you had to say was no, and I would have le
ft you safely with Gregg. But you wanted to be in my car, just like you want to be in my pants right now.”
My eyes narrow as I do a double take at the words he just uttered. “You mean, you want to be in my pants,” I correct.
“Way to deflect. I like this about you, Pyle.” He steps away from me and turns toward the stairs.
“Why do you keep calling me Pyle?”
We start ascending.
“That’s what happened when you decided not to give me your name.” He’s already ten steps up and about to turn the corner.
“You know it now, so you can stop.”
He pauses his steps, glances down at me over the railing, and winks. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I huff and continue, shaking my head in frustration at this man.
We reach the top of the staircase, only to realize there’s no door. Just a small room of three walls with the only light coming from the stairwell we just walked up.
“How is there a staircase that leads to nowhere? What is this place, the Winchester Mystery House?” I ask.
He points at a ladder that’s up against the wall with a shit-eating grin covering his face.
“Um, yeah, that ain’t happening.” I look down to my pencil skirt and high heels. “I can’t climb that in this.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?” He cocks his head to the side, crossing his arms over his chest.
I shake my finger back and forth at him. “Oh no, I don’t fall for that shit. The whole if I dare her, she will crap isn’t working on me.”
“You’ll do just fine. Here, hand me your shoes. You can climb barefoot.”
“You must have taken a lot of girls up here to know I’d do better without shoes.”
“Quite the opposite,” he says, causing me to raise a brow. “I figured, if you’re going to know my secrets, you might as well see my hideaway.”
My head twitches in contemplation, but I try to recover quickly. I’ve realized it’s best not to overanalyze anything Austin says or does.
“So, are you going to come or not?” he asks.
I look around the dark room. Behind me is the staircase going back to our floor. In front of me are cylinder blocks of a four-by-four-foot room with a ladder hanging on a wall.
The little devil appears on my shoulder and urges me on. He’s not going to kill you on the roof. He knows he’s too pretty to go to jail.
For once, I listen to the red lady.
I lean down to remove my shoes, handing them one at a time to him. “Fine, but I go after you. No looking up my skirt.”
I glare at him, making sure he knows I mean business, and damn it, it makes him laugh again.
He begins his ascent with my shoes in hand, and I follow behind him. I can’t help but wonder how it’s possible that this man keeps getting me out of my comfort zone. Every time I’m with him, I’m doing things that would normally terrify me—driving in race cars, stepping up to take on an investigative journalism assignment, climbing a ladder to my possible death …
He stops, and I hear him fiddling with the lock of a hatch on the ceiling. Once it pops open, he swings it up, and I hear it slam against the roof.
Light floods the area around us, and I feel a swoosh of cool air swirl down. He continues his climb, and within a few more rungs, I’m making my way over a railing and stepping onto a gravel roof.
After handing me back my shoes, he waits as I slide them back on. His hand reaches for mine, and he walks me to a corner of the building.
“What is this?” I ask as we approach an outdoor living room set under a fabric portico.
The drapery is swaying in the gentle breeze that we’re awarded with from being this high up. Under the portico is a curved couch with cushions plusher than my bed, which wraps around a gas-lit firepit, next to an inviting chaise lounge that I’d love to take a nap on. Several accent tables and plants are placed around, including some candles enclosed in glass lanterns of various sizes. The only thing that’s missing is a cocktail bar, and then this would officially be a nicer setup than I’d ever seen on any vacation I’d been on.
“Want a drink?” he asks as he reaches under the seats and slides out a drawer that’s actually a mini fridge.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“What? I have water in here if you don’t want alcohol. I mean, you are on the clock.” He playfully tilts his head.
I point toward the water and catch it when he throws it to me. Untwisting the cap, I take a sip and walk around the furnished area that sits on the center of the large rooftop. There are sand-colored rocks on the floor, which looks to be imported, and a black rail around the perimeter of the building. Up here, we have a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of San Francisco, and it’s breathtaking.
“How in the world did you get this up here?” I ask, noting there is only that one ladder as a point of entry.
“Come on, I’m a Sexton. I want it, I make it happen.” He takes a seat on the sofa and crosses his feet on the wide edge of the firepit.
“It’s just that easy, huh? You snap your fingers, and people run?”
“Well, no, it’s not that easy. I make sure I pay them well first.”
I place my water on the table and take a seat on the chaise, opposite of where he is.
“It’s like that, huh? You pick the farthest chair away from me?”
I give a nod while taking him in. The slight breeze is ruffling through his light-brown hair, making the perfectly styled do become messy, more like the way it is when he’s racing cars. He’s looking out at the city’s skyline. I do the same and take in the scene. Even though we’re twenty-three floors up, there are still skyscrapers all around us, and the view is different than one I’ve ever seen. There’s something so freeing and peaceful being away from the hustle and bustle of the city below us.
It’s silent up here. We’re the only two people at the top of the world, yet we have nothing to say to one another. All we need is to exist in the fog and breeze and try to keep it from carrying us away. Resting my head against the back of the chair, I can’t deny that it’s a comfortable silence. Still, it has me wondering …
“So, why did you bring me up here?” I ask after a few minutes of silence between us.
“To call a truce.” He lowers his legs to the ground, so he’s now sitting straight up. He pauses for a moment before stating, “I was wrong, and I’m not too proud to say when I’ve made a mistake.”
An apology from him is not something I was prepared for.
“I was wrong, too. I had you pegged as this egomaniac who has little regard for anyone’s feelings.”
He lets out a laugh. “No. You’re right about that.”
I’m not laughing. “You’re a decent guy, Austin.”
“Why would you say that?”
Why would I say that? It’s something that’s been sitting with me for days. A connection I feel to him despite wanting to run the other way.
“The way you spoke out about your mother, defending her to Missy.” I look away and swallow down the emotions threatening to creep up into my eyes. “I lost my mom when I was a child. I know how hard it is to grow up without one.”
When I turn my head toward him, it’s to see his serious gaze and nod of understanding.
He stands up, reaches in his pocket, and produces a key.
“This is for you.” He hands me what I can only assume is Beckett’s car key. “I told you I wouldn’t keep the car, but I thought you might have your own plans for it.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, grabbing on to his hand.
He stills. His body, which was turned back toward where he was sitting, is now angling toward me.
I look up at him. “Austin, if you really want a truce, I want one of your secrets. One more, I mean.”
His brows are furrowed as he stares out toward the bay. The sun beats brightly on his face as he looks back at me with honesty. “I’m terrified we’re going to lose our company to Dad and Missy.”
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I shake my head. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
He smiles. “So, the temp is going to save the company?”
“I’m gonna try to keep your name out of the races. I don’t understand how that works, but I already have my notes written up, and there’s no mention of Falcon.”
He raises my hand to his mouth and gives it a soft kiss. While I’m trying not to decode what that means, he carefully lowers it and takes a seat next to me on the chaise.
“Missy’s already figured out that I race. That was her way of threatening me with her knowledge. Thank you for offering your soul to the devil, but my grave has already been marked.”
“I hate that she can hold this over your head.”
“Me, too. That’s why this place is so special. I feel calm up here.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say about the rooftop even though my attention is fixed on him.
“I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to give you that key, and this was the perfect place to do it.”
I blink at his comment. “Why didn’t you just give me the key as soon as we got up here?”
“I wanted to see how long we could sit in silence. I’d say, we’re off to a good start.”
He winks, and my heart pounds out of my chest.
This is not what I need in my life right now.
9
AUSTIN
Being on friendly terms with Jalynn is both a blessing and a curse. While it’s nice not to have her scowl at me all the time, having her smile is worse.
Mostly because she’s so damn pretty when she smiles.
She also has to stop biting that damn lip. The way her teeth graze her plump, lower lip has me thinking about how bad I want to suck on it, and then I have to adjust myself in the middle of a meeting.
She was doing it this morning when I passed her in the copy room. I was on my way to a meeting and couldn’t stop to chat, which was a good thing because I might have decided to skip the meeting altogether just to talk to her and stare at that lip.
Yesterday, on the roof, the wind swept her hair to the side, exposing her long neck.
