by Serena Grey
I stare at my hand in his, and I find myself thinking of Landon. At how different it feels to be touched by him. There’s something potent about Landon’s touch, something that sets me on fire, and makes me want to toss away all my inhibitions.
“Rachel,” Jack is saying, “I know we have a history, but it was a long time ago. What I need now is for you to be happy for me. I need to know we can still be friends.” His eyes are imploring as they hold mine. I know the look well, it’s one he has used successfully to break down my resistance over the years. Usually, it would make me succumb to whatever he was suggesting. Right now it just makes me think of Laurie’s words. “He knows you’re in love with him, and he wants to keep you that way, so you’ll always be there.”
My desk phone rings, freeing me from having to respond to Jack. I pull my hand from his and pick up the phone, holding the receiver to my ear. “Hello.”
“Jessica wants you.” It’s the brusque and efficient voice of Carol Mendez, secretary to Jessica Layner, editor-in-chief of Gilt Traveler.
In all my time at Gilt, Jessica has never requested for me specifically. In fact, I don’t think she’s ever said more than two words to me. “What for?”
“You can ask her when you get here,” Carol snaps, and I hear a click to signify that the conversation is over.
I get up from my chair, “I have to go,” I tell Jack.
He looks disappointed. “Alright, but we should talk later, Rachel. I can’t stand this… distance.”
I watch him leave, frowning as I pick up a tiny notepad and a pen. He’s going to have to get used to the distance, I decide resolutely. There’s no way I’m letting our relationship go back to the old dynamic, where I wait on the sidelines hoping for the little crumbs of his attention.
AS the Editor-in-Chief, Jessica has the largest corner office on the floor. It’s actually a suite, with a large closet/dressing room, a private seating room when she doesn’t want to be disturbed, and the main office, from where she commands us foot-soldiers. I arrive at Carol Mendez’s office first. “Jessica’s in,” she tells me, barely looking up from her computer.
“Thank you,” I reply, wondering what Jessica Layner could want with me. To be honest, she’s rather intimidating. I spent my first year at Gilt terrified of her. She’s very fashionable, tall, and slender, with sharp eyes that don’t miss a thing, an attractive face, and a body any woman would be proud of at any age. She’s in her late fifties, according to Wikipedia, but Mark Willis once confided that she’s a few years older than her official age.
From Carol’s office, I enter the short hallway that leads to Jessica’s. The walls are lined with pictures of Jessica with various politicians, Hollywood stars, and world leaders. Further intimidated, I smooth my sleeveless cream silk blouse and black knee-length pencil skirt, then run a hand over my hair before opening the door to Jessica’s spacious office. I see her as soon as I enter the room. She’s sitting at her desk, facing the door, with her back to the windows, her signature mane of back length, expertly colored blond hair framing her face like a halo.
There’s a man sitting opposite her on the other side of her desk, wearing what looks like a very expensive suit. Something about his profile, even from behind, makes my stomach tighten. But I’m so concerned about what Jessica has to say to me, that I don’t spare more than a quick glance at the thick waves of dark gold hair, and the obviously good-looking body in the suit.
I take two more steps inside the room, my eyes on Jessica, but something makes me turn back towards the man. At the same time he turns towards me, and for a moment, longer than a moment, my heart actually stops beating.
Landon.
I forget about Jessica as my eyes drink him in. I forget everything but him. I feel elated and confused at the same time. Blood surges under my skin, making me weak, and still he keeps on looking at me, his deep blue eyes holding me like a prisoner.
What is he doing here?
There is a small smile on his face. It looks harmless, friendly even, but beneath the surface, I can sense the danger.
He knows, I realize. There’s no surprise in his face at seeing me, only that smile that tells me that he knows exactly who I am and that I work here.
“Rachel.” Jessica’s voice sounds far away, and it takes a concerted effort to force my eyes to break away from Landon’s gaze and go to her. “I’m glad you’re here,” she’s saying, as if she has forgotten that she sent for me. “This is Landon Court.”
He gets up and faces me. I suck in a breath, feeling as if I’ve been kicked in the stomach. There’s just something so raw and feral in his beauty. In the light of Jessica’s office, all the burnished gold in his hair gleams brightly, contrasting with the darker parts. Captivated by the sexy smirk curling his lips, I stand frozen as he extends a hand towards me. “It’s nice to meet you Rachel,” he says in that deep raspy voice.
I let him take my hand, as if I’m not already confused enough without having to deal with the jolt I feel when his skin touches mine. “It’s… It’s nice to meet you too.” I stammer, turning a confused glance towards Jessica.
“Landon was in the building for a meeting, and he stopped by to say hello to an old friend...”
“Definitely not old, Jessica,” he says to her, without letting go of my hand.
She smiles indulgently in a way I’ve never seen before, and I look from one to the other, wondering what the hell is going on. “Thank you, Landon,” She turns back to me. “He wanted to thank you for that lovely article on the Insomnia Lounge.”
I turn from Jessica, who has never noticed anything I’ve ever written, much less described it as lovely, to Landon. I’m finding it difficult to comprehend what’s going on.
“I don’t understand…” I say, feeling stupid. “Why…?”
Jessica smiles. “Landon owns the place. We had a little discussion early in the week and decided that an article about it would be the right fit for our website…” I can hardly hear what she’s saying, I’m staring at Landon.
He owns the place.
“…Landon requested that you write it. Luckily he’d read a couple of similar articles you’ve written...”
He requested for me to write it. He’d arranged for me to be there, and then he’d appeared. That meant that he’d known who I was. Had known since early in the week. And he’d had the nerve to ask me if I was working the joint!
Jessica keeps talking, but it’s almost as if she’s not in the room. I can only see Landon, and the contrast between the polite smile curling his lips, and the steeliness in his blue eyes. You lied to me, he seems to be saying, and what are you going to do now that I’ve found you.
I jerk my hand back from his, annoyed. I may have lied to him. No... I may have omitted to tell him that he was mistaking me for someone else, but no way did that mean he had the right to use my work to get me to his club under false pretenses. To practically seduce me again, all the while pretending that he didn’t know who I was.
I don’t need this. After Jack, I don’t need to even be in the same room with a man who wants to play games with me. I take a deep breath, doing my best to calm the emotions raging inside me. Then I school my face into a polite smile. “I’m glad you liked the article, Mr. Court…”
“Landon...” he interrupts smoothly, cocking his head slightly as he gives me another small smile. “Of course I liked it, you’re obviously very good at what you do.”
I pause, momentarily distracted by the pure suggestiveness of his statement. “Mr. Court,” I say deliberately, “I had a great time at your club, and the article reflected that. If that is all, I have to get back to work.” I smile politely at Jessica before turning around and heading for the door.
Outside Jessica’s office, I pause for a moment, breathing deeply and trying to compose myself before I cross the short hallway to the door leading to Carol’s office.
I’m about to open the door when I hear Landon’s voice behind me.
“Wait.”<
br />
It’s a terse command, and if I had any self-respect, I would ignore it, but I stop, my hand on the door knob. I don’t want to turn around, but almost as if I have no control over my own actions, I find myself turning to look at him.
He takes a step towards me, and my breath quickens. “Why the rush, Rachel?”
I lick my lips. “I have work to do.”
“You said.” He gives me a look. “Although this is a strange workplace for a hooker.”
I pull in a sharp breath. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew?”
“Why did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t lie to you,” I say evenly. “You made an assumption.”
“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have corrected my mistake?” he asks, his voice edged with annoyance. “I spent the weekend wondering why you didn’t leave your number, but I thought it didn’t matter, since I could always get it from my brother. Try to imagine how surprised I was when I called him, and he had no idea what I was talking about.”
When he’d assumed that I was a hooker, he’d also assumed that I was a birthday present from his brother. I didn’t even want to start thinking about how strange that was. “Look,” I start, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but you had no right to get me to your lounge under false pretenses just so you could… How did you even find out who I was?”
He shrugs, not bothering to reply. Of course, with the depths of his pockets, he probably has access to ways I can’t even imagine. “You had every chance to tell me that you weren’t who I thought you were,” he continues. “Why didn’t you?”
I stay quiet. There’s no way I’m going to admit that I wanted him so much I was willing to pretend to be a hooker. “Why are you here, Landon?”
He moves towards me, and in a few steps, he’s right in front of me. I try to step back, shaken by the surge of desire I feel, but my back is against the door. He closes in on me, enveloping me with his body and his presence, making me feel as if I’m losing control of myself.
His voice is hard. “I’m here because you owe me an explanation. That night at the hotel. Why did you stay? Did you know who I was?”
I shake my head, trying to dispel the effect of his body being so close to mine. “I didn’t, and I don’t owe you anything. I wanted a one-night stand, and you wanted a hooker. We both got what we wanted. Why can’t you leave it at that?”
He leans downward, one hand resting on the door beside my head, as he brings his face close to mine. I lose my train of thought, my eyes locking on his sensual lips. They are so close. I wet my lips, nervous and aroused, and as if he knows, he smiles. “I didn’t get what I thought I was getting,” he murmurs, “and in any case, my hooker didn’t get paid, did she? That’s unacceptable to me Rachel. I always pay my debts.”
“Maybe your ‘hooker’ decided to make it a charity case,” I snap.
He laughs. The sound is rich, sexy, and it warms me to my toes. “I’m sure I don’t strike you as someone who needs charity.”
No, he does not. I take a shaky breath. “Well then,” I say with a calmness I don't feel. “Back to my original question. Why are you here?”
“Maybe,” he says slowly, moving his body closer still, so that between the door at my back and him so close to me in front, I can hardly breathe, “Maybe I want to fuck you again.”
Raw heat floods between my thighs, making my knees go weak. My lips part as I drag in a ragged breath. He’s not even touching me, and yet, I feel as turned on as if he was. Desperate, I turn my face to the side, so that I can’t see his perfect face, his mesmerizing eyes, or the perfect curve of his lower lip. His breath fans against my ear, and I close my eyes, trying to find the words to tell him to leave me alone, when all I want is for him to fulfill the wild desire coursing through me.
“If that’s why you’re here,” I say slowly, my even tone belying the fact that my body is already his, from my straining nipples to my aching sex, “you’re wasting your time.” I swallow. “Jessica could walk into this hallway any moment. So if you don’t want her to come in and find us like this, I think you’d better let me go.”
He smiles, his eyes communicating exactly what he thinks of my dismissal. He knows that I want him. How could he not, when my whole body is straining towards him as if drawn by a magnet. His eyes hold mine for a long moment, until I’m sure I’m going to lose the ability to breathe.
“I couldn’t care less about Jessica finding us,” he says, “and I never waste my time.” He places a hand on my waist, and at the contact, I let out a gasp. But he only lifts me from the door, molding me to his hard body just for a second before he sets me back on my shaky legs. “I always get what I want, Rachel,” he says softly. Then he reaches behind me and opens the door, walking past me, and leaving me standing there with my heart racing, and blood pounding in my ears as I try to get my traitorous body under control again.
“I STILL can’t believe he actually said that,” Laurie says without taking her eyes off Adam Levine being super-sexy on The Voice.
“Me neither.” I frown into my box of Chinese take-out. “I mean who even says stuff like that?”
“What exactly do you have a problem with?” Brett asks. He’s sitting beside Laurie on the couch feeding her from his own take-out. “Is it the wording, or the intention conveyed?”
I scowl at him. “I have a problem with everything. Getting me to go his lounge under false pretenses, then pretending that he didn’t know who I was. Just who does he think he is anyway?
“Hush,” Laurie complains, as some teenage girl with knee high suede boots starts to sing a country number.
“I think you should fuck him,” Brett whispers, “You obviously want to, and you already did before, so…” he shrugs.
“I agree,” Laurie adds, looking away from the screen long enough to give me an encouraging smile.
“Definitely not,” I reply, getting up. “I’m going to bed. Apparently, you two have no idea what a one-night-stand means.”
“There’s no law that says you can’t have a repeat,” Laurie calls after me. I ignore her and dump my takeout box in the trash, then go to my room to get ready for bed. When I finally lie down and close my eyes, all I can think of is Landon, and those words repeating in my ear like an erotic refrain.
I want to fuck you again.
In a shameless part of me, I admit that I want the same thing. I’ve wanted it since I set my eyes on him at the Insomnia Lounge. Thankfully, there’s another part of me that’s sensible enough to be infuriated at him. Just who does he think he is anyway?
I always get what I want.
Well, good luck with that, I mutter, tossing on the bed. I’m most definitely not going to sleep with him again. I’m not interested in a guy who thinks he can own the world just by wanting it. It doesn’t even matter how sexy he is. I won’t be adding myself to the list of women he can get into bed just by saying something as raw as ‘I want to fuck you again.’
Out of curiosity, I open the browser on my phone and run a search on him, with ‘girlfriends’ as one of the keywords. The articles that come up in the results are mostly from the New York gossip sites, with pictures of him with various women, including a few famous ones. The articles allude to romantic connections between him and some of his dates, but most of the allusions seem to have been based only on rumors. I wonder if he approached all the other women as directly as he approached me.
I want to fuck you again.
Jesus!
I put the phone away and close my eyes. There’s no point in reading about his past relationships when I should be banishing him from my mind, memories of great sex and all.
The first step is to stop thinking about him, and I will, starting from tonight.
I try my best, but by the time I finally fall asleep sometime later, I’ve already failed miserably.
I do better the next day, burying myself in work, and writing up a storm. At lunchtime, I walk down to a nearby deli with Chelsea and So
nali Nagra, a cute new Indian intern who speaks with a British accent, grew up on Park Avenue, but insists that her home is in Mumbai, even though she’s been there only once in her life. Her dream is to work at Gilt Style, the most popular of the Gilt magazines, and after that to launch her own couture line. Over lunch, we gossip about office people, and laugh about the more ridiculous articles Chelsea has had to write lately.
“I finally saw Jack Weyland yesterday,” Sonali exclaims at some point, smoothing perfectly manicured fingers through her coal black hair. “He looks even better in person. I swear when I got scorned at Gilt Style, I accepted the position at Traveler just so I could work with him.”
Chelsea looks from Sonali to me, and I shrug, making it clear that I don’t care if we talk about Jack.
“You shouldn’t have taken the position then,” Chelsea says sympathetically. “He never dips his dick in the office ink.”
“Plus he’s engaged now,” I add, chuckling silently at Sonali’s obvious disappointment.
“I’m more worried about his attitude to office relationships than his engagement,” she replies, her eyes serious. “Claudia Sever has broken three engagements in the past two years, everyone knows the person she really wants is Reese Fletcher, the billionaire. They’ve been on and off for ages.”
I wonder if she could be right. When it comes to either gossip or fashion, Sonali always knows what she’s talking about. However, instead of the sick relief I would have felt in the past at the knowledge that Jack might soon be available again, I just feel uninterested.
“Speaking of hot men, I saw Landon Court in the building yesterday,” Chelsea grins. “Now that’s a big girl’s Jack Weyland. I wonder what he was doing there.”
I feign ignorance by keeping silent as they both speculate about the person whose name I’ve already decided to banish from my thoughts.
“I wouldn’t mind the brother,” Sonali says with a sigh. “He’s doing a play on Broadway right now, though it’s still in the preview stage. Some of my friends went, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.” She lowers her voice. “There’s something about guys with tragic stories. My mom says both brothers were in the car with their mother when she had the accident. Landon pulled Aidan out and then had to watch as the car burned with his mother inside.”
