Tempt Me

by S. E. Lund

  I could have walked to the elevator and gone to her office and demanded that she speak to me. I was the owner of the publishing house, after all, but I didn't want to embarrass her or take advantage of my position. That was what she was afraid of after all. I understood how it would look.

  So I tried to distract myself, wondering if she would respond. She had to -- if she wanted the cashier's check. Luckily, my assistant came in and handed me a copy of something to sign and for the next hour, I was distracted and unable to ruminate much about Ella and how I hoped that she'd give me a chance despite technically being her boss.

  The rest of my day passed much as the previous part had -- with me busy in meetings or reading over material in preparation for more meetings.

  By five thirty, when I still hadn't received a reply from Ella, I sent her a final text.

  JOSH: Look, Ella. I get that you're concerned about me being the owner of Dominion Publishing, but I really do want to help you even if you don’t want to see what develops between us. No matter what happens or doesn't happen between us, I still want to give you the cashier's check so you can get your apartment on Monday. If you want, I can have it sent to your office. If what happened between us upset you, you don't have to even see me or speak to me again. Let me know.

  I sat holding the cashier's check in my hand. Made out to Roberto Bertelli, first and last month's rent, the check was for $5400.00. I googled the address and saw it was in a decent part of Chelsea, and using street view, I could see that her apartment was in an old brownstone building and was probably on the third floor. The street was tree-lined. It was close to a subway stop. The apartment would be a great choice for someone's first months in Manhattan. I envied her in a way. She was truly starting her life, and living her dream.

  Work at a publishing house reading submissions. Living in a studio apartment in Chelsea. She was beautiful and young and smart. She'd have her pick of men, who I knew would be quite happy to give her the attention she deserved after being betrayed by her fiancé.

  Problem was, I wanted to be the one who did that for her. I hated the thought that I'd been the one who found her and every other hungry dog standing around in the bars and clubs would be the ones who had a real chance.

  Finally, at approximately 6:15, fifteen minutes before we had planned on going for some great Italian meatballs, I got a text from her.

  ELLA: Sharon was able to get me a cashier's check. She totally understood my problem and was happy to help. I really think we should keep things professional between us. Thanks for everything you've done for me. I won't forget it even if we don't see each other outside of work again.

  Crap.

  I should have just chalked it up to experience and moved on. There were hundreds of young women who would be happy enough to spend time in my bed. Besides, I had a headhunter busy trying to find me a wife.

  I should have put Ella Carlson out of my head, but I couldn't.

  I didn't want to.

  I didn't give up that easily when I saw something I wanted.

  I wanted Ella. Still, I couldn’t force the issue. I'd have to try to build up trust with her and that would take time.

  I'd give her some time – I'd wait a few days and then I'd ask her once more to come out with me for a meal. Maybe if I showed her I would be completely hands-off at Dominion from that day forward, she'd feel better about us seeing each other.

  To that end, I send her one last text.

  JOSH: I understand that you're reluctant to become involved with me because I own Dominion Publishing. If you change your mind or even just about the meatballs, you can text me and I'll be here. I really enjoyed meeting you and assure you that I would never use my position to gain any kind of advantage over you or force the issue. It's totally up to you.

  Then, I went back to work, determined to give her some time and space to consider what I'd said. In a couple of days, I'd try again.

  A few days later, after I'd immersed myself in work and tried my best to put Ella into the back of my mind, I decided to pop down to her office and see if I could accidentally run into her on the way to speak with Sharon.

  I left my office and took the elevator down to her floor and went to Sharon's office, hoping to find Ella before she left, but I was too late. The office was still open, but Sharon was the only person remaining inside.

  I popped in and saw her sitting behind her desk, a stack of files in front of her.

  "Hey," I said and entered the office, taking the chair across from her. "How are you doing? We haven't had a chance to really sit down and talk since my father's death."

  "I'm fine," she said and closed a file, removing her reading glasses and giving me a smile. "How are you?"

  "I'm good. No complaints. Just wanted to see how things were in your neck of the woods. We've been in meetings together but we haven't had the chance to talk alone."

  "I'm hugely relieved after finally getting my new assistant."

  "Yes, I imagine. I'm glad you found someone to fill the role. Tell me about her. I haven't had a chance to read through any of the HR files." I shrugged, not sure I'd even seen any nor had I taken time to look.

  "Oh, Ella? She's really bright, finished a BA in English from Dartmouth College. Wants to do a MFA at Columbia next year. She specialized in editing and creative writing, so she has an eye for both good writing and story. I'm really happy with her. It's a crime that we're getting her for free. I hope we can offer her a paid position when her internship ends."

  "New Hampshire? Her last name is Carlson. Why does that ring a bell?"

  Sharon raised her eyebrows. "Daddy is none other than the notorious Governor Emmet Carlson."

  That shocked me. I sat back and rubbed my chin. "Governor Carlson? I think The Chronicle did a piece on him a few years ago. Has a lot of friends in high places who were passing on intel on some biotech stocks. He was never charged, but some of his underlings were."

  "That's right. I remember it now. Ella just got out of a bad breakup. Seems there were a few problems with her fiancée." She wagged her eyebrows. "Not that I pry into my staff's personal lives, but given her father's position, stuff gets published. She just had a big breakup and she said she, and I quote, 'wanted to get the heck out of Dodge.'"

  "Yeah, I know all about that," I said, referring to my own sorry tale of engagement woe. Sharon knew all about it. I'd asked her to take over soon after Christie and I split and I took some time off. I'd been honest with her, wanting to take a long vacation and try to wash Christie out of my system and Sharon had been only too happy to help me out. It meant a promotion for her, but she'd shown she could handle the added responsibilities.

  "How are you doing?" she asked, her expression sympathetic.

  "I'm good." I stood up, hoping to end that line of questioning immediately. "Well, I'm glad things worked out with the new hire. I just wanted to pop by before I left and make sure you were good. If you have any concerns, just call me. You know my door is always open."

  "Thanks," she said and smiled.

  I left, hoping I hadn't raised any suspicions on her part about my visit.

  Then I took the elevator down to the parking garage and sat in my car, pondering my next move.

  If she wouldn't answer my texts, I'd have to run into her at work, which might cause all sorts of issues, but the only alternative was to go to her new place and try to contact her that way. Which sounded way too stalkerish even to me.

  I decided to order some flowers and send them to her office tomorrow.

  Maybe I could win her over with yet another apology. She wasn't a lightweight, and probably had developed a strong spine after her own failed engagement.

  Whatever the case, I wouldn't give up until she and I sat with her face to face and talked it out.

  I checked out an online florist and ordered two dozen violet roses. For the card, I put down the following:

  Ella:

  I know we got off to a rocky start, with scraped knees and elbows,
and you're worried about who I am, but my offer of the greatest Italian meatballs stands.

  Sincerely,

  Your Friendly Neighborhood Bicycle Courier Impersonator

  There really wasn't anything else appropriate for me to do but make the offer and see if she responded. She had every right to ignore me but I hoped I could convince her that I was sincere. I wanted to give it a good try at least, before either of us wrote off the relationship. I should have probably just put her completely out of my mind, but I couldn't.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ella

  I left Josh's office and went back to my own, conflicted about everything. It felt really strange to have to pretend that I didn't just almost sleep with Josh and I knew that if we kept it up, it would be very awkward – and potentially very dangerous – for me to become involved with Josh.

  I didn't want to be beholden to him and so I went to Sharon when she returned from her meeting with Josh and told her what happened, asking her to get me a cashier check so I could take possession of my apartment on Monday.

  I stood in front of Sharon's desk and held my breath, waiting for her reply.

  Her mouth dropped open, but she agreed right away, with no hesitation.

  "Of course, I'll help you. Sit down sit down," she said and pointed to the chair across from her desk. "You should have come to me right away, you poor thing. How much do you need?"

  I sat down and heaved a huge sigh of relief. It was hard working up the guts to go into Sharon's office and ask for her help. I'd sat in the bathroom and scrunched up a tissue, trying to get up the nerve to go in and ask for her help.

  All my anxiety was for nothing.

  "My first and last month's rent for the studio is $5400.00. I'll transfer you the money as soon as the bank gets my account re-activated," I said and held up my cell, showing her my banking app, and the balance in my account. "Just give me the email you want me to send it to and it'll be in your bank account once the bank lifts the block, which they do when your bank card is stolen."

  She told me and I made a note on my calendar to make sure I sent it after the block was lifted.

  "I'll go down to my bank during my break and get you the cashier's check," Sharon said, smiling.

  "Thank you so much. You can't know how relieved I am. I was afraid I'd lose the apartment and have to stay in this tiny little Airbnb I have now. I wasn't even sure I could do that, because I had to report my credit card stolen and so I wouldn't be able to use it to pay for any extra days."

  "I thought you said everything was fine," Sharon asked. "If I had known..."

  "I didn't want to be your problem," I said, my fingernails digging a bit too firmly into my palm, thinking of what Josh had said to me in the elevator. "I wanted to be the solution to your problems. If I asked you to get a cashier's check so I could get my apartment, I'd become your problem which is the opposite of the reason you hired me."

  "You shouldn't have worried. I'm just sorry you waited so long. You must have been frantic."

  "I was at first," I said, nodding. "But I went to my bank and told them what happened. They walked me through the steps to get new ID, but I couldn't get a cashier's check until I had something tangible to prove who I was and my address. But I wouldn't have anything tangible until I got the mail at my new address with my new card -- in ten days."

  "The old catch-22."

  "Exactly," I said. "I thought I had someone who could help me, but it turned out to be a flop. You were my last hope."

  "Well, I'm glad I can help you." She smiled softly. "Now, go find me some good books. I need something to show the editorial team tomorrow."

  "I'll do my best."

  I left her office and went to my own, sighing with relief.

  When I left the office at six, I hoped I didn't run into Josh. The last thing I needed was to see him and be reminded of what a hunk of man he was, and how much I was going to regret having ethical standards.

  Jerkface had been screwing his secretary.

  I was determined that I wouldn't become just an office romance to anyone – even someone as gorgeous and powerful as Josh.

  The next morning as I left the elevator on my way to my office, I passed a delivery man going into the elevator. When I arrived in my office, I saw a bouquet of flowers on the desk.

  I knew immediately who they were from...

  I sat at my desk and stared at the flowers. Two dozen of the prettiest violet roses with a spray of baby's breath. I read the card and couldn't help but smile despite my anger.

  From your friendly neighborhood Bicycle Courier Impersonator...

  It was almost enough to make me take out my cell and text him, accepting the offer of the best Italian meatballs for supper.

  But I didn't.

  I couldn't get past the boss-employee thing. If he had been just a bicycle courier, and not one of the wealthiest men in the US, I would have been happy to go to his – to his company's -- apartment for some late-night bed-tumbling. But he wasn't just a bicycle courier.

  He was my boss.

  I sat starting at the flowers, thinking about Josh. He did help me out. He was very generous, and now of course, I realized that it was because he truly could afford to and not only because he had a good heart. My first and last month's rent was probably what he paid a day for his apartment. I'd seen an article about apartments in SoHo that rented for a cool half million a month. That kind of wealth was unthinkable. I couldn't imagine it. I grew up privileged with my father being a successful lawyer before becoming Governor. But Joshua Macintyre Jr? His father had owned Macintyre Broadcasting. It was one of the biggest media empires in the country.

  Probably the world.

  Frankly, he scared me.

  Monday came and I went to pick up keys to my new place in Chelsea and compared to my Airbnb place, it was a palace. Hardwood floors, real exposed brick on one full wall with windows overlooking a small courtyard. It had its own bathroom, which, while tiny, wasn’t shared. The kitchenette was cute if really small, but I had a big open space for my bedroom / office.

  And it was all mine.

  I loved it. I hauled my one suitcase into the space and did my best to make it my own. I had been able to get some cheap bedding and some drapes for the windows. Luckily, the place was furnished with a proper full-sized murphy bed in a nice cabinet and tiny two-seater sofa and coffee table. There was a small table against the wall with two chairs.

  Really, it felt like a mansion compared to the Airbnb. I went out that night and bought some groceries, and had my first home-cooked meal in my new apartment.

  I was in seventh heaven. Now, if only Josh hadn't been so deceptive about his real identity, I might have been in bed with him and we would be enjoying each other's bodies the way we should have been.

  The next week passed pretty slowly, and although I was glad I didn’t have to face Josh and be tempted by him, I felt a little sad that he hadn't persisted. But it was probably for the best that I didn't become involved with him. The last thing I needed was to get involved with my boss. Josh was the kind of man I could fall for and who would probably throw me over for someone more beautiful – a better catch than I was.

  When Friday night rolled around, I was sitting on my bed, my laptop open, and was reading my Twitter feed when my cell pinged, indicating an income text. I took it out and checked my messages.

  Speaking of the devil, the message was from Josh.

  JOSH: I'm going to be sitting in the restaurant waiting for an order of the best damn meatballs in all of Manhattan -- perhaps the world – Saturday night. Say, around seven o'clock. If you're interested, I'll be waiting. But I won't wait too long. Nothing worse than cold meatballs! Seriously, Ella. Please meet me there and eat some meatballs with me. We could set some rules governing our relationship if being boss and employee really bothers you. Then, whatever you decide, I'll be happy to accept.

  There was even a pasta emoji at the end of his message. It was so cute with the tiny fo
rk rolling spaghetti that I was almost won over.

  Almost.

  But if you didn't have standards, what did you have?

  I didn’t answer him. Instead, I closed my cell and got ready for bed, trying my best to put him and his offer out of my mind. Just when I was starting to feel okay about leaving him out of my life, he had to contact me and ask me out on a dinner date.

  I brushed my teeth and got into my pajamas, then snuggled down into my bed in my tiny studio apartment in Chelsea, wishing I had fewer standards and could allow myself to go tomorrow night and sit at a table in the window with Josh, slurping spaghetti and eating the world's best meatballs.

  The next day, I went for a long walk around my new neighborhood, hoping to find all the great places to eat and shop in my local area. Of course, all morning, I kept thinking of Josh's offer, and was torn whether to accept. I wanted to. I wanted to find out what could happen between us, but I was worried that I shouldn't. I needed to talk to Steph so picked up my cell and called. She answered on the third ring.

  "What's up, kiddo? How's the Big Apple treating you? Did you get the ID thing sorted out? Did you and Mr. Straining Glutes have dinner?"

  "I did get the ID thing sorted out and yes, Mr. Glutes and I did have dinner. But there's a problem..."

  I bit my lip and wondered how to phrase my next confession.

  "A problem? Do tell..."

  "The thing is, Mr. Glutes isn't really a bicycle courier."

  "Don't tell me. He's really a hitman for the Russian Mob. I always told you that you were too trusting of people." She laughed, but I imagined she was only partly kidding.