by Jessica Marx
“Samantha,” Mason says in a commanding, yet gentle tone, “you clearly can’t relax around me. We can’t have you feeling that way at work. It’s counterproductive. I know you’re capable of great things. I don’t want anything personal getting in your way.”
“Okay,” I reply. What else can I say? He’s right.
“Maybe what we should do is spend a little time together, get to know each other again. We used to joke around and have fun. I’m still the same guy I was back then, I just have a bigger office now.”
“So what exactly are you suggesting?” I ask, getting some of my nerve back.
“Let me take you out. Dinner, maybe?”
I look at Mason like he’s crazy, “let me get this straight. In order to make me feel more comfortable working for you, you want to take me on a date?” Is this guy for real? Once a player, always a player.
“Not technically a date. More of a meeting.”
“I’m pretty sure fraternizing in that manner with other employees is against company policy. This is my first day. I don’t want to lose my job.”
Mason stands and walks around to the front of his desk. He takes a seat on the edge and crosses his ankles, looking down at me.
“Listen, Samantha,” I wish he would stop calling me that. “I’m not just another employee. I’m not even just the boss’s son anymore. I’m a partner. I call the shots. A dinner meeting is nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Do I have a choice in the matter?” I ask with a business like tone.
“I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.” Mason is replying my question, but I sense a hidden meaning in his answer.
“Okay. We can have dinner,” I concede. Maybe Mason is right. Maybe if we have some one on one time, it will be best - for me and my job. I know all about his view on women. I’m not looking to get involved with Mason. I’ll use this opportunity to make that very clear.
“Wise decision. You won’t regret it.” Mason stands back up and walks behind his desk, taking a seat once again. “I figured you would agree. I already cleared my schedule for Friday night and made a reservation for us.”
“Wow,” I say, surprised, “arrogant much? You must think every woman will do what you ask.”
“Not at all. It’s my job to know what people want before they want it, Samantha.”
I swear when Mason says my name this time, he lets each syllable linger just a little bit longer than it should. It could just be the way I’m hearing it. Either way, this decision may not be as wise as I thought.
8
Samantha
“How was your first day?” Mom asks. She’s on me before I have time to remove my jacket. Good old Ginny - some things never change. She’s wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon. Mom’s home cooking. One of the perks of living at home.
“Pretty interesting,” I reply, immediately thinking of Mason’s dinner proposal. “There’s a lot going on. The company has grown so much since I interned there.”
“You can tell me about it over dinner. I’m sure you’re hungry after that long commute.” Mom walks back into the kitchen to tend to the pot on the stove. I kick off my shoes and hang my coat before following her in.
The commute sucks, but it’s nice to come home to a hot dinner and some conversation. I set the table while mom plates our dinner. I know she is happy to have me here - even more so since she’s been living alone. My father died three years ago while I was living in Miami. I wanted to come back then, but she wouldn’t let me. She forced me to go on with my life and I’m glad she did. It was a sacrifice for her - surely she was lonely - but I’m back. At least for now.
“So, tell me about your day,” mom asks, now seated across from me in the small kitchen.
“It was good. I think I’ll like it there. I did before, anyway.”
“How’s Kaitlyn?”
“She’s good. She runs one of the largest departments now. She’s also trying to get pregnant.”
“Sounds like she has a lot on her plate. Hopefully she can handle a baby and a big career.”
“I’m sure she can.”
We each take a few more bites in silence, then I can’t help myself. I have to tell someone, “Mr. Grant asked me to dinner Friday night.”
“Mr. Grant? Like of Grant and Son?”
“Yes. The son. Mason Grant.”
“You’re not going, are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I reply defensively, although I know she’s probably right.
“He’s your boss. This was your first day. Why on earth would he want to take you to dinner?”
“Thanks, mom.” I roll my eyes.
“You know what I mean,” she adds.
“We used to work together - before he became my boss. He thought it would be good for us to just…catch up.” No way I’m telling mom about the kiss. She would definitely not approve.
“Well, as long as you’re careful. You don’t need to get mixed up in anything that could jeopardize your career,” mom warns, “although it would be nice to have a millionaire in the family.”
“Billionaire,” I say with a smile.
We both laugh. It sounds crazy - and it probably is - but I’m going anyway. Billionaire, broke, it doesn’t matter. A player’s a player. I know what I’m getting into and I have no intention of getting caught up in his game.
My first week flies by. I’m very busy learning exactly what I need to do and how to get it done. I don’t have time to get anxious about going out with Mason tonight. I shouldn’t even think of it as ‘going out’. I have to keep reminding myself - it’s a meeting.
Luckily, I’ve also been able to avoid running into Mason at the office. We work in completely different areas, so it’s not that difficult. He’s also extremely busy running this whole operation. He doesn’t have time to hang out in the break room.
I’ve been introduced to everyone in the financial management department at this point. I’ve been whole heartedly accepted as part of the team. I’m a fast learner and hard worker which has also helped me to gain respect as more than ‘Kaitlyn’s friend’. Kaitlyn’s been busy too so we haven’t spent much time together since lunch on Monday.
My computer chimes signaling an incoming inter-office message. It’s Kaitlyn:
‘Heard you’re having a stellar first week!’
‘Yes! I love it so far!’ I reply
‘How about coming out to celebrate tonight? A few of us are going to happy hour after work.’
‘I can’t.’ I reply, hoping to leave it at that. I don’t want to tell Kaitlyn I’m meeting Mason for dinner. That’s one conversation I don’t feel like having yet.
‘You sure? It will be fun.’
‘I’m sure. I already made plans - but I will definitely come next time.’
Please don’t ask what I’m doing.
‘Okay. Too bad. Hope you have fun anyway. Enjoy your weekend!’
Whew. Dodged a bullet there. I can’t begin to explain what I’m doing going out with Mason when I don’t even understand it myself.
I coast through the rest of the day. As five o’clock approaches, I realize I don’t know where Mason and I are going or how I’m supposed to get there. Details I should have thought about sooner. I don’t want it to seem like I’m thinking about it too much so I decide not to ask - yet. I’ll wait until the absolute last minute. Maybe he forgot about our conversation altogether.
No sooner does the thought cross my mind, than Kim appears at my cubicle. She has her coat draped over her arm and a leather satchel slung over her forearm.
“Hi, Sam. I was supposed to send you an email, but I was leaving anyway so I figured I would stop by your desk and give you the message in person.”
“Thanks, Kim. What’s up?” I ask. I smile at her although I swear I sense some snideness in her tone.
“Mr. Grant would like you to know there will be a driver waiting for you in the lobby. He will meet you at the restaurant.”
&n
bsp; “Thanks. I was wondering what I was supposed to do,” I smile again.
“No problem. Enjoy your ‘meeting’.” She uses air quotes when she says the word ‘meeting’.
“I’m not sure what the quotes are for, but thanks,” I reply. I can be a little bitchy too if the need arises - which apparently - it has.
“No one in this office has ever had a Friday night meeting with Mr. Grant. I’m just not sure why he’s looking to take out the new girl.”
Kim walks off before I have a chance to respond - which is good. Nothing I have to say to her would be very nice.
So this is how it’s going to be. I haven’t even gone anywhere with Mason yet and I’m already getting slack from the other women. I’m sure Kim can’t be the only one who feels this way. She may just be the only one who knows at this point. I’m sure once word gets out, she won’t be the only one with something to say. I wish I could cancel. I don’t need to make enemies.
I finish up the last of my work for the week and shut down my computer. I take a few minutes to freshen up my make up and fix my hair. Even if this isn’t a date, I still want to look my best. I may not look as good as the gorgeous women Mason is usually seen with, but I don’t need to look like the hot mess I feel like at the end of a long week.
I gather up my things and take the elevator down to the lobby. I don’t even know who I’m looking for, but supposedly there is a driver here somewhere waiting for me.
An older man approaches me, “Ms. Roberts?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Dan. Mr. Grant sent me to pick you up.”
Mystery solved.
“May I take your bags?” Dan offers.
“Um, sure,” I reply. I’m not used to being catered to - at all.
I hand my bags over to Dan. I feel silly that I’m carrying so much, but I’m used to taking the train. I have a change of shoes, my lunch bag, and some work related papers I need to look over.
Dan easily takes my things. “Follow me.”
I let him lead the way, matching his stride.
He holds the door to the town car open for me. I nervously step in. I still don’t know where we’re headed, and honestly, it doesn’t matter. One thing I’m sure of, is that this is a terrible idea, but strangely, I don’t care.
9
Mason
“How many years did you go to school to be this stupid?”
“It’s dinner, dad. It’s business.”
“Nothing about you taking this girl to dinner has anything to do with business.”
My father is pacing back and forth in front of my desk. What possessed me to tell him the truth about why I had to leave is beyond me.
“Samantha and I used to work together - you know - before I became a partner in this business.”
“Don’t make me regret that decision, Mason.”
“Jesus, dad,” I run my hands through my hair in frustration, “I’ve increased our profits ten fold since I’ve been here. I’ve worked my ass off for this company - for you. I earned this position. When are you going to start respecting me?”
“When you learn to keep your pants on.”
“It’s dinner. It’s business. Samantha is smart and has a lot of potential here.”
“Samantha,” he slurs, “wants what every other woman wants from you - money.”
“Unlike you, I have a lot more to offer than just my money.”
“Watch your mouth. Just because you’re a man doesn’t mean you can speak to me like that,” Garrison takes a seat and stares out the window. He takes a deep breath to calm himself before speaking again.
“I get it, son, I do. I love women - as many of them as I can. I may be older, but I still get my share. One thing I’ve never done, though, is mix business and pleasure. One wrong move, son, and this tramp can get her hands on everything we’ve built here. You really need to be careful. What you’re calling a business dinner, she can perceive something very different. If given the chance, the right person will say whatever it takes when they know there’s a handsome payout in the end.”
“I appreciate your concern, dad, I do. I know what I’m doing. I know Samantha. I’m not the least bit concerned. You shouldn’t be either.”
“I spent a lifetime building this company into what it is today,” Garrison explains, “I made you a partner because you earned it. I’m getting older, I need to back off. But no way in hell I’m going to quietly watch it go down in flames so you can get some pussy. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and watch.”
“It has nothing to do with ‘pussy’,” I snort.
“Of course it does. It always does.”
“Well, like it or not, it’s happening. You have my word that Samantha will not be coming after the business or our fortune.”
“Let’s hope you’re right, son.” My father gets up and leaves my office without another word.
Fuck. He infuriates me sometimes. I’m a grown man. He gave me control of basically the entire company. Why he doesn’t trust me to have dinner with a coworker is just ridiculous.
I wish he was off on one of his trysts somewhere right now so I didn’t have to deal with this. Sometimes I think the only reason my father gave me so much control was so he could go off and enjoy himself without worry. Now that he’s back in town watching my every move, he’s all of a sudden on top of everything. I can barely decide what to order for lunch, let alone make important decisions, without him breathing down my neck.
When he’s off with one of his lovers, he doesn’t pay any attention to the daily operations and decisions. He leaves it all up to me, trusting me to do what’s right. Then, the second he’s between women, and steps foot back in the office, he’s all up in my business - literally. I hope he finds himself a new woman so can leave again. I need things to get back to normal. I can barely think with him lurking around.
I try to forget him for now. I have more important things to tend to - like my dinner with Samantha.
10
Samantha
Ugh. I wish Mason had gotten here first. I’m so fidgety. This place is really fancy - nothing like the usual chain places I go to. I twirl the stemmed water glass between my fingers. I can’t sit still, anxiety is getting the better of me.
Then I see him. Shit. He looks good - really good. Mason’s charcoal suit hugs his body perfectly - as it should. It’s been specially made for him. He’s wearing a crisp white button down shirt and pale green tie that somehow from across the room, I can see, matches his eyes.
Mason is exchanging words with the hostess. She’s twirling her hair around her finger, clearly entranced by his charm. He sure has a way with women. That’s why he’s been with so many. I remind myself to clear the impure thoughts forming in my head. It works momentarily until Mason struts his way over to the table. Maybe he’s not strutting - I don’t know. What I do know is he looks tastier than anything on this overpriced menu.
“Samantha,” he greets me, “sorry I’m late. I ran into my father on the way out.”
“It’s okay. I haven’t been waiting long.”
Mason pulls out his chair and takes a seat across from me, “would you like to join me in a bottle of wine?”
“I thought this was a meeting?” I ask. I’m trying to sound businesslike but I I don’t pull it off. There’s a hint of coyness in my tone. I need to chill out a little.
“Meeting or not, a glass of wine never hurt anyone,” Mason smiles, “red or white?”
“Red,” I answer without further argument. What is it about this man that makes me want to do whatever he asks?
The waiter approaches the table. Mason orders a bottle of red. The name sounds French. The way he pronounces it forms a sly grin across my lips.
“So tell me, how was your first week?”
“Pretty good. So far everyone has been friendly and helpful,” I briefly think about my encounter with Kim who was not friendly at all. Okay, maybe not everyone. “Kaitlyn runs a tight ship, but I already have
a pretty good handle on things.”
“I bet you do,” Mason replies.
Why does everything he says seem to have a sexual undertone? Or is that just me making it into something it’s not?
The waiter comes back with the bottle of wine. He holds it up for Mason to see then pours him a taste. He swirls the wine around his glass and takes a small sip. I can’t help but watch him. Mason gives the waiter the okay. He continues to pour two full glasses before leaving again.
“Cheers,” Mason says, holding his glass up, “to the start of something new.”
I clink my glass against his and take a sip, “you’re talking about my job, right?”
Mason’s eyes narrow, “what else would I be referring to, Samantha?”
After a full week of waiting for this night, a week of having hypothetical conversations in my head, I’m ready to just be real with him, “come on, Mason. Look around,” I say gesturing at the wine on the table and the romantic ambiance surrounding us, “is this really where you hold your business meetings?”
“Not usually,” he answers, not missing a beat, “but this one is different.”
“Why?”
“I just see something special in you. I don’t want you to feel any sort of discomfort - ever. I just thought it would be nice to get to know you outside the office. When you left last time, it was…weird for me.”
“Weird for you? You seemed to be enjoying yourself as I recall.”
“You got to me, Samantha.”
“Got to you?” I repeat.
“Yes. I just felt something with you that I never felt before - and haven’t since.”
“Come on, Mason,” I laugh. I have a new found confidence. I’m just not sure if it’s because I actually believe his line of bullshit - or because I don’t. “Do you really think I’m that naive?”
“Not at all. I think quite the opposite,” he answers, drinking from his glass, unperturbed.
“What’s your game?” I ask.
“I don’t have ‘a game’, Samantha.”
