Make it Reighn (A Threads Inc. Saga Book 1)

by R. J. Castille

  They were sitting in the middle of my desk when I made it to the office. Large, velvet petals on top of long, firm stems. A dozen blood, red roses with tufts of baby’s breath and greenery added to the mix for a break in color. There was a small plastic stick jutting out from the middle of the bouquet with an envelope stuck in between the tines of the forked end. My name was carefully scrawled across the front in large, cursive letters. I turned toward Sandra, who sat at her desk, feigning innocence as I silently inquired after who had sent the flowers. She shrugged her shoulders, pulling them up almost all the way to her ears and giving me the most naïve look, I had ever seen. I doubted seriously she had just left them there without taking a sneak peek inside the envelope to see who they were from.

  Removing the envelope, I turned it over and opened the small flap, revealing a card inside. I pulled it out and revealed a message from the sender inside. The name on the card made me catch and hold my breath. I stared at the letters in disbelief, unable to fathom the thought. Printed in all caps as neatly as he could muster, Reighn Abrams had done his best to apologize by sending me the fabulous blooms. I read the card several times, his words an act of contrition, practically begging for my mercy. It seemed strange to me that he would go to such an extent over the likes of me. On Saturday night, when he could not peel his eyes off of the scantily clad redhead enough to keep our conversation moving, I was quite livid and had left in a lurch. Sending flowers was definitely a cliché move and I was not that impressed. On the other hand, I realized that it must have taken a lot for someone like Reighn to say he was sorry. I was quite sure it was something he was not accustomed to, so I was convinced that he definitely had ulterior motive for sending the flowers. There had to be. Someone like him just was not the apologetic type.

  I glanced up from the card to meet the stare of Sandra Fieldman. Her eyes were trained on me, a smile stretched across her lips. When she noticed I had seen her gawking at me, she cleared her throat loudly and pretended to straighten a few things out on the surface of her desk before meeting my gaze again.

  “You must have done something right in this world, my friend,” she said after several seconds of awkward silence, “Reighn Abrams is not the hearts and flowers type, trust me. He is the wham, bam, and if you’re lucky, you might receive a thank you ma’am, but that is doubtful.” As she spoke her face reflected that she was telling the truth. I too doubted that Mr. Abram was ever one to grovel. For some reason, I had landed in his cross-hairs and he was going out of his way to impress me. Probably to prove to me he was not that asshole I just knew he was, that we had just had a misunderstanding. I knew better, he WAS that asshole, and I was having no part of it.

  “Yeah, sure,” was all I could manage, “that man just doesn’t get it. The world does not revolve around his pretty little head, despite what he thinks, and I am in no way inclined to give in to his pathetic advances,” I almost took the flowers off my desk and threw them in the wastebasket underneath but thought better of it. It would be a shame to waste such beautiful blooms. Reighn had gone all out and purchased what likely cost him a pretty penny. The buds themselves were flawless as if someone had carefully hand-picked each one and placed it lovingly in the vase. Instead, I simply dropped the card onto the surface of my desk, a sound of disgust escaping my lips before I rounded the side and found my way to my chair to begin my day.

  “Give the guy a break, would you Jessica? You two just got off on the wrong foot,” I looked at her, dawning the most irritated look I possibly could. Was she even there on Saturday night? She had to have noticed him lusting after the bountiful curves of the woman as he stood engaging us in idle chit-chat. For crying out loud, the man could not peel his eyes off of her, despite the fact that he was in the middle of trying to reel me in. That was just something I could not ignore. There was no way that I ever saw myself at his side after that. No way in hell.

  “Are you kidding me right now, Sandra? Were you not there on Saturday night? The man was in the middle of a conversation with you and I and still he ogled the redheaded woman who cut through the room into his line of sight. I don’t play that kind of game, and I definitely won’t be with the likes of him,” I almost spat the last part of my sentence out. It was a little irritating that she was sitting there defending the man as if he had done nothing wrong. In the back of my mind, I wondered what her motive was. I felt as if most women would have reacted the exact same way that I had if a man they were talking to completely forgot how to stare at another woman without getting caught. Part of me knew that he really didn’t care if he got caught, that was his way, and no one ever thought to call him out on his shit. No one until me that is.

  “Yeah, I was there and yes, I saw him staring at her but,” her voice trailed off as she started to pick her way carefully through the conversation, “it’s a guy’s nature to look at other women, period. I don’t know about you, but every single man I have ever dated, been friends with, hell even those who I would consider was nothing more than an acquaintance, do that. Most are just smarter about it and don’t get caught. They know every trick in the book to allow them to look after women who strike their fancy and risk as little exposure for their actions as possible. In fact, I know some that are so good at it, you could be looking directly at them and they appear to be looking back at you but really, they are staring at the big-titty woman at the bar over your shoulder. It’s their nature, they can’t help it,” Sandra was doing her best to defend the carnal nature of Mr. Abrams. I was still not buying it.

  “That doesn’t mean it’s acceptable you know. Just because it’s their nature and what they do, does not mean that they should just get away with doing whatever they wish. I hate that mentality, Sandra. It only leads to the perpetuation of things in our society that are immoral and wrong. Men should not get a free pass, just because they are men. Especially, that one,” By the time I finished speaking, I was completely worked up. I could feel the intense heat that had spread from my cheeks, down my neck and settled in my chest. A warm sensation that was almost suffocating. I took a deep, cleansing breath and stared back at her.

  “Well, you don’t have to bite my head off about it,” she shook her head and looked back toward her computer, “I was just playing the Devil’s advocate, sheesh. It just seems to me that people could be a lot more understanding of someone who is under so much pressure all the time. It’s not his fault, it’s just habitual.” Sandra mumbled the last part of her sentiment under her breath. She already knew she shouldn’t have said it or she would have sat up straight and uttered it proudly. Instead, she let her voice trail off until it was almost inaudible. I chose to ignore her last-ditch effort to defend Reighn and turn my attention to my many tasks that waited for me.

  We worked in awkward silence after that. Sandra had chosen to just keep her mouth shut, which was probably a good thing. I was on the verge of letting her have it and by the way she had reacted, she probably knew that quite well. Instead, I powered on my computer and looked through my new emails. There were several advertisements, one communication from Mr. Devon Cole wanting to confirm with me that I had scheduled the next photo shoot Ms. Shultz herself would oversee, and one from someone I did not recognize. I bypassed that last one and clicked on the one from Mr. Cole to offer a response. Of course, I had set everything up, I was on top of my game and everyone there knew it. I tried to be at least two steps ahead of everyone, making my job and theirs, just that much easier. I informed him of such and added that I had booked the caterer, made sure that I had procured plenty of bottled waters and sent a reminder to Regina in the form of an Outlook calendar invite.

  I was so engrossed in my work, I did not see him come in. If I had, I surely would have made up some kind of excuse to get out of there STAT. Reighn Abrams stood over me, a pompous look etched on his features. He cleared his throat loudly, calling my attention to his presence. It took me by surprise that he would be so bold as to approach me at work, but then again, he was accustomed
to doing whatever he wanted. At least that’s what I knew about him so far. He reached up and touched one of the roses gently, smiling as he did and glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. I just gaped up at him, waiting to announce the true nature of his visit.

  “Can I help you?” I practically spat the words at him. Looking up at from where I sat, I grasped the vase that the flowers were in, pulling it toward me before placing it carefully on the other side of the desk, out of his reach. It didn’t matter to me that he was the sender of the blooms, he had no business touching my things or encroaching in my personal space. He had not been invited in to my inner circle, he just forced his way inside, like he seemed to always do.

  “I have an appointment with Ms. Schultz at eleven,” his voice was smooth. Almost too smooth as a matter of fact. I was not aware of any such appointment, but then again, he could have gone through Sandra to get the timeslot he wanted. Glancing in her direction, she looked on, slightly amused. Instead of giving him the extra attention he wanted, and that he was used to, I simply picked up my phone from its cradle and dialed my boss’ extension. When she answered, I announced her visitor had arrived for her eleven o’clock appointment. She thanked me and told me to go ahead and send in Mr. Abrams. I nodded curtly and hung up the phone after she disconnected the call.

  “Ms. Schultz will see you now,” short and to the point and with as little eye contact as possible. That’s how I was going to handle Mr. Abrams. If I held him at distance, he would eventually back down, I was sure of it. A man like him could only focus his attention on one female for so long. The mere sight of him standing over me looking down at me expectantly made me just that much more irritated. He did not acknowledge what I said right away, he just gaped at me, a hint of disbelief behind his eyes. Turning my complete attention to the monitor in front of me, I ignored any further attempts of his to capture my interest. He turned and slowly walked toward Regina’s door, casting one more glance in my direction before disappearing from view.

  “Man, Jessica, you really got him going. I can tell by the way he looks at you and I have never seen Reighn Abrams act that way. You definitely got under his skin, that is for sure,” Sandra’s voice drifted toward me from across the walkway. I looked over at her as her mouth stretched into a wide smile. Rolling my eyes at her, I did my best to ignore the last things she had said. Instead, I turned my attention back to the article I was working on. Ms. Shultz had assigned me a series of small articles that she said could actually end up in the next addition of Threads if they were up to par. They would be, she knew that, and I would work myself to death trying to make that happen.

  Sometime later, Reighn emerged from Regina’s office. He walked slowly in my direction and stood quietly over my desk, waiting for me to acknowledge him. When I didn’t right away, my fingers continuing to fly across the keyboard, he cleared his throat to get my attention. I looked up at him, conjuring up the most annoyed look I could. Instead of speaking, he simply shook his head and turned toward the exit. Dragging himself slowly from the office, I heard the door click as it closed behind him.

  “That was pretty cold, my dear,” Sandra’s narrative was beginning to grate on my nerves.

  “Will you please stop. He deserves everything he gets. If he wasn’t so used to getting away with treating other people like complete garbage, perhaps he would be a better person. Unfortunately, it’s quite clear that he is used to it and, I’m sorry but he could send me a thousand long-stem roses and I still would not just jump to forgive his actions. Someone needs to put him in his place and that is exactly what I intend to do,” I was almost out of breath by the time I finished speaking. Sandra was too busy defending Reighn to see things my way but, by the look on her face, she finally had.

  “Geez, don’t bite my head off. I’m sorry, I won’t bring him up again today,” and she didn’t. I was glad too because I was growing weary of hearing about Reighn Abrams. He had another thing coming if he thought he was just going to waltz into my domain and throw his weight around. It took a lot of nerve to act like he did and then turn around and try to gloss it over with a bunch of flowers and a sheepish look. It would definitely take a lot more than that to get him back onto my good side.

  The rest of my week pretty much went the same way. Reighn sent me new flowers every day, each time a bigger bouquet than the last. He was practically begging me to at least let him take me to lunch and show me that he really isn’t that bad of a guy, it’s all just been a misunderstanding. Between Reighn, Sandra and my best friend, Courtney, by the time Friday rolled around, I was ready to give in to his request. I decided that I would allow him to treat me to lunch and see what he had to say. I was sure I could handle one little lunch with the jerk.

  He had given me his cell phone number on one of the cards that came with the flowers. I almost tossed it out, but for some reason, thought better of it. That was good because otherwise I would have to ask Sandra for his number and I wasn’t ready to let her know that I was finally yielding to Mr. Abrams. Repeatedly inside my mind, I reminded myself that it was just lunch and that there were no further expectations. He had promised. Besides, lunch in a public place surely was safe. There was no way he could even try any funny business with the rest of the world watching us.

  I had finally texted him the night before and he replied back almost instantly in all caps, as if he were sitting on his phone and waiting for me to send that message. He agreed that Friday afternoon around one o’clock would work and that he would pick me up downstairs in his limousine. I almost asked where he planned to take me but decided to let that part go and be surprised. Knowing what little I knew about Reighn Abrams, it would be somewhere spectacular for sure.

  One o’clock cam faster than I had anticipated and before I knew it, it was time to meet my lunch date downstairs. I took one last look at myself in the mirror that was on the wall opposite my desk, touched up my lip gloss, grabbed my purse and cell phone from inside my desk drawer, and made my way toward the door. Sandra beamed at me as I went, her smile ear-to-ear and her eyes lit up with excitement.

  “Good luck!” I heard her call after me as I opened the door to leave. Stopping long enough to turn and acknowledge her, I waved my hand in her direction as I laughed and exited the office. I did not know why she wished me luck, it was just a lunch date with someone I had never seen myself going out with in a million years. Not because I was not worthy of someone of his position in the world. It was simply because I did not take to well to men who were just shallow, womanizers and he clearly was that type. I didn’t know what type of man I did prefer, since I had dated very little since I broke up with my last boyfriend the first year of college, but I did know it wasn’t Reighn Abrams. People who thought they were better than others, high and mighty on their pedestals, left a bad taste in my mouth. I did promise Sandra that I would give him a chance, that I would not use my bias toward him to deny his efforts what they deserved, acknowledgement. She was right, he had gone out of his way to try and apologize and indulging him in his need to take it a step farther and buy me lunch really was harmless. Wasn’t it?

  The sleek, black limousine was parked parallel to the curb directly in front of the building. As I approached, the door cracked open and Reighn popped his head out from inside. He looked up and down the block briefly before stepping out of the car and holding the door wide for me, gesturing for me to get inside. I eyed him suspiciously for several seconds before I complied with his request, lowering myself into the back of his car. Once I was safely tucked inside, he sat back down next to me and pulled the door closed behind him. Reighn barked a few orders at his driver before rolling up the privacy window between us. Jet black glass filled the hole and we were essentially alone and without prying eyes at that point. The car lurched and started to move away from the side of the road, merging carefully into traffic before heading in the direction he had been told to go.

  I was right, of course. The car wound its way up toward the coast
before heading north and driving a short distance to Malibu. Reighn Abrams had booked the entire restaurant for us so that we would be completely alone and undisturbed. It was a hill-top place poised high above the ocean on the cliffs in Malibu, sandwiched in between some of the biggest beach-side houses I had ever seen. I looked around the space and there was but a single table in the center of the room set against the large pane windows that afforded a spectacular view of the ocean. The sun sparkled off the waves, casting light across the surface that looked like a million diamonds floating off the sea. I was impressed that was a definite but wondered if my mood would be short-lived. If he kept his hands to himself and fulfilled his promise, perhaps I would realize I had been wrong about him, but that remained to be seen.

  We crossed the room toward the only table in the place. Reighn rushed in front of me and pulled my chair out from underneath, a nice gesture indeed. I never pegged him for the chivalrous type. I supposed that there may be more to Mr. Abrams after all. Perhaps I had just been dejected by the first, and second, maybe even the third impression I had of him, but in that moment, he seemed to be making every effort to wipe those memories from my mind, so he could start fresh.