by C. L. Donley
So when Amara’s supervisor came by her desk with Dale’s secretary from the second floor, Amara nearly fainted when she heard the words:
“Mr. Abernathy would like a few words with Amy if you don’t need her right now.”
“Absolutely,” Amara heard her supervisor reply, though she heard them talking as if she were underwater. It seemed just when she thought she’d survived a current of crazy, here came another to suck her back in. She could deal with one reality or the other, she just didn’t know if she could stand all the flux. Pick a plotline, God, she thought.
She got up from her seat and didn’t dare look in the direction of any of her fellow workers this time. She couldn’t feign bewilderment with them any longer. She was being singled out from them for some reason, and she was dreading all the arbitrary awkward farewell sentiments, signed “We’ll Miss You” cards and excuses to eat cake coming her way.
As Amara followed his secretary downstairs, who enjoyed a very large and plush office with elegant oversized double doors, she wondered if she could put, “Sat outside of Dale Abernathy, COO’s office door” on her resume, because she knew she was breathing rarefied air, she just didn’t quite know why.
“Bring her in,” she heard over the loudspeaker ominously.
His secretary smiled warmly as if to put her at ease. “Just go right in, Amy,” she said.
Amara walked past her desk and into a large room with floor to ceiling windows, a panoramic view of the Webster offices down below on the first floor. Dale was sitting at his computer looking focused on his work, but the youthful appearance of the already rather young COO made him look like a high school student playing pretend at dad’s office. Yet he had the similar gravitas of his best friend.
“Sit down, Amara,” he said, taking Grayson’s cue and using her full name.
She complied and looked around, wondering what she was doing here and remembering her wise friend’s words. The next crazy thing that happens, whatever it is, just say yes.
Dale finished up one last thing on his laptop before he turned his attention to Amara and gave her a gracious smile.
“The infamous Amara Riley.”
Amara lowered her head and put her hands on her temples.
“Should I ask for an autograph?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know what’s going on, would you?” Amara quipped.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Dale answered. Amara shrugged as though she were a plainclothes goddess oblivious to her powers.
“I spoke to Grayson about you, and he wants to know what your plans are once you leave here.”
“…You can’t be serious.” Amara wheezed.
“I’m completely serious,” he said.
“Dale…can I call you Dale?”
“You can call me an asshole if you want, you technically don’t work here anymore.”
“Dale is fine… can you please explain to him that I am ordinary and there’s nothing special about me?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that, Amara. In fact, I would say you’re pretty extraordinary, and I’d venture a guess as to why but… I’d have to see more to know for sure.”
“Okay,” Amara simply said, waiting to hear the rest.
“You should know, Amara, that the only people that have known Grayson longer than me are his parents. And I have never before seen… what I saw on Monday, with you.”
Amara’s tortuous ten days had somehow made her bold.
“Did he tell you that we’d talked once before?”
Dale’s eyebrows went up. “No, he didn’t.”
He seemed to genuinely not know. She continued.
“He didn’t know it was me, I’m pretty sure. But I don’t know, somehow he figured it out.”
“He undercover bossed you?”
“About three months ago, yeah.”
“Ah. And did… something else happen?” Dale asked tentatively.
Do what now??
“I… no…I don’t think so. I don’t follow, I’m sorry,” Amara stumbled.
“Never mind. It’s just… I know you probably didn’t notice… well, you couldn’t have known, because you’d have to know him to know, but…” Dale glanced back at his laptop before closing it, “you had him really, really flustered.”
Amara felt involuntary heat filling her face. She smiled and then had to splay her fingers in front of her mouth to hide that her lips were trembling. He continued.
“And because I know him so well, you can’t possibly imagine how very, very amusing this is for me.”
Amara turned her head and let out a breathy laugh into her shoulder. She swivelled her head back but her eyes were glued to the table.
“And no offense, but I’m glad you’ve made the decision to move on. Although you seem lovely, the workplace is… not where I want to be amused by Grayson, do you know what I mean?”
“Oh my God,” Amara said putting her head in her hands and leaned on the desk in front of her. She wasn’t quite catching his drift, because she refused to believe that Grayson fucking Davis was attracted to her in any way, unless she heard it from the man himself. Yet she was reeling at the idea that it may somehow be a very real possibility.
“I have a proposition for you, Amara. And please… do not feel pressure to do anything you don’t want. Feel free to say no.”
Whatever it is say yes, she thought.
“Well, before I forget… you never told me your plans after you leave.”
“Oh yeah, that. Well, I actually got a callback today from Carolina Bread Company.”
“Carolina Bread Company,” Dale repeated.
“Yeah.”
“Doing what?”
“1st shift baker.”
Dale slowly reclined back in his swiveling chair.
“1st shift. Isn’t that like… three in the morning?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna knead dough while it’s dark, and hopefully catch the sunrise and think about what direction I want my life to go in.”
Dale thought it best not to comment. “When do you start? Monday?”
“Well, I have one more week here, and then I thought maybe I’d take another week, just to, you know, sleep in as much as I can before—”
“You know what, stop. Because I literally can’t listen to any more,” his voice went upward as though he were asking a question and Amara laughed a bit as she replied, “okay.”
“Would you like to make a quick thousand dollars?” he suddenly said.
One month of her portion of the rent and utilities. She could have an extra two weeks to find something a little more awesome. Four before she had to really start panicking.
Whatever it is, say yes.
“Is this making of one thousand dollars… sexual in some way?” Amara inquired, as a joke.
Dale cocked his head to one side as though thinking. “Not…directly.”
Oh, he was serious?! Amara made a face.
“Okay, let me start over…do you want to go to a party?”
Five
Chapter 5
By the time Grayson arrived in Malibu, the party was in full swing. Even though the sun had barely commenced setting, streaking the sky with purple. He was clean-shaven and wearing an oatmeal colored linen suit that was light and airy and draped him beautifully.
Not even five minutes in he was looking at his watch. He hadn’t heard a thing from Dale yet, which was unusual. He was a billionaire, but he relied on his wingman, pathetic as it seemed to him to admit that.
He went to the bar that was on a deck overlooking the beach. The decor was sleek to match the profile level of all the attendees. Clean and modern with a black and white scheme, the strings of outdoor lights and other rustic touches there to add a degree of casual intimacy to the atmosphere. The level of celebrity there was excessive enough to shrink the entertainment world down to its actual size.
Peppered among that crowd were beautiful plastic blonde nobodies, looking to snag a somebody. No one was bother
ing him.
Yet.
Today though he was off his game and he could feel it.
Was he even in the mood? He was most definitely overdue, but he couldn’t place the source of the frustration.
Surely this isn’t her doing, he said to himself.
But then, when he thought of Amara, he felt the sudden flow of blood beyond his belt, and he knew he had a serious, serious problem.
After their online chat, he’d decided to try and truly scrap this Amara thing.
He couldn’t sit around messaging her like a pedo. Besides, what would he say, what could he say that wouldn’t cause her to leap to conclusions?
Once it seemed like she was beating him to the punch and typing him something, but she must’ve changed her mind because nothing was ever sent.
Probably for the best.
Then the knowledge that she was now an ex-employee and free to be openly pursued had only caused anxiety to bubble up in him, one that he instinctively knew to heed. It would be exchanging one kind of freedom to lose another. He thought about asking her where she was going, trying to help her in some way. He didn’t know why he felt responsible for her at all, but he did.
Then he thought surely she must be a Rules girl because last night he discovered that she’d up and blocked him.
Had she meant to send his hunting instincts into overdrive? Because he nearly made it his life’s ambition to make her beg for it.
And that was scary. Because any woman that could make him consider putting aside his rationale was dangerous indeed.
Yet part of him was in denial because he was pretty confident that Amara was incapable of sexcapades-level mind games.
He knew for a fact that Amara was painfully innocent and loyal, and deep down he was a stubborn, cantankerous smartass, impossible to live with.
He certainly wouldn’t foist a relationship or -perish the thought- a family on anyone, the basis for his 80/20 compromise.
Grayson never considered having children. Working for the NSA had made him cynical about the world he ultimately couldn’t help trying to improve. Why bring kids into this world and give them tons of money until they’re useless, ultimately adding to the misery? He made a great fearless leader, but romance-wise he could never unleash himself on a girl like Amara Riley. Better to leave her to her overblown perceptions than to—
“There he is,” Dale’s familiar drawl interrupted his thoughts.
“It’s about time,” Grayson began. “I was starting to—”
Grayson turned from the bar, and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest.
There standing before him was Amara, fucking, Riley.
Her locs were unleashed from their demure updo she maintained in the office and were now cascading down her bare shoulders as they did in her Webster profile pictures. She was wearing a simple black halter top dress and, sweet mother of mercy her cleavage… he nervously forced his eyes to meet hers. Was she even wearing makeup? He hoped he was managing a smile. A slender bronze arm was tightly coiled around Dale’s dress shirt sleeve, and he could tell she was nervous because she was holding on to Dale for dear life…
She was holding on to Dale…
Amara suddenly turned her head to one side, behind Dale’s shoulder, revealing that beautiful ligament in her neck that was more pronounced in certain women when they turned. Grayson’s pulse quickened as he studied the two of them.
What the fuck was going on?
“Grayson… how’s the party buddy?” Dale started as if trying to pretend something wasn’t happening when it was. He gently shrugged the shoulder Amara was hiding behind and she faced forward, smiling shyly and looking around.
“You remember Amara,” Dale began again since Grayson seemed to be speechless.
“How could I forget,” Grayson managed smoothly. “Are you…did you guys—”
“I flew her in this afternoon. Turns out we have quite a few things in common,” Dale continued, looking into Amara’s eyes. Amara took her free hand and moved it to her mouth. She made a jerking movement forward with her head, as though summoning her locs to cover the side of her face, and they complied, shielding her expression from Grayson like a beaded curtain.
“You’re not… you’re cool with it right?” Dale said almost daring him to find fault with it.
Grayson was lost in a battle fending off despair but didn’t let it show. He began to say “of course,” but he could only manage a laugh and a slow shaking of his head as he eyed the two of them.
Dale wasn’t quite sure if he was taking the bait, so he went on to make sure.
“I just figured, you know after our conversation and all and…. Now she’s not technically an employee so—”
“It’s fine, Dale. Just, leave it. You’re making Amara uncomfortable.”
Dale stared back at him blankly for a long while.
Grayson looked over at Amara who was also staring at him with two giant, endlessly dark orbs. She looked a bit apologetic.
Was he missing something else? Was something else coming??
Dale’s poker face dissolved into an ever increasing satisfied smile, and he began that sickening silent chuckle of his, that had often caused physical confrontations between them in adolescence.
“Oh my gosh… that was horrible, Dale,” Amara broke in sweetly in Dale’s direction.
They’d clearly already had a rapport. Hot jealousy slinked around Grayson’s middle and choked his lungs.
“No, that was… worth seven years of Christmas bonuses.” Dale laughed outwardly this time, wrapping an arm around Grayson’s shoulders, his laughter increasing with every humorless second Grayson was eyeing him. Grayson looked as though he could easily punch him, and for some reason it only made Dale crack up even more.
Amara could clearly see the years between them now, and it was a priceless moment. Suddenly they were not two of the wealthiest men in the world, just two bros at a party engaged in the numbskull things bros did.
Dale turned to Amara, grabbed her wrist with one hand and reached into his jacket pocket with the other. A wad of cash emerged, and he put it in her open hand.
“I can’t take this blood money,” Amara whined.
“Take it,” Dale laughingly groaned. “Best money I’ve ever spent.” He put his hand on each of their backs, standing between them and shoved. “Go be young, you two.”
They bumped into each other slightly when Dale did that, shattering the awkward workplace tension between them— a new kind of tension forming to take its place.
As they lazily drew apart again, Amara grabbed his arm and drew herself close to it. He could feel the warm tenderness of her breast through his suit jacket, painfully aware of the bra she was not wearing. One mere layer of clothing away from being completely naked— was she wearing underwear? He was theorizing what kind when she spoke.
“You have to know that this was entirely his idea. I only agreed because Dale assured me you would think it was hilarious.”
“He just said that so you’d do it,” Grayson answered flatly.
“I feel so used!” Amara laughed.
Her laughter softened him. He changed the subject. “Your hair looks—”
“Looks like worms?” Amara volunteered.
“What? No. I was gonna say you look different when it’s down.”
“Oh,” she said, somewhat surprised. “Different good?”
He nodded sweetly, and her wobbling legs were no closer to recovering.
“But also it looks like worms.” she assumed.
“Hear that a lot, do you?” he inquired.
“Once a week, at least.”
“Even in the city?” he wondered. “Where do you live?”
“Palo Alto.”
“Ah,” he said as if that explained things. “I’m paying you well enough to live there?” he quipped.
“Not even, no offense,” she said. He took none, and she continued as they walked.
“Mya’s aunt owns the house. Sh
e’s had it for like, thirty years. Mya’s my roommate. We wanted to be in Oakland, but we basically moved here with nothing, so it would’ve been stupid not to take her aunt’s offer. It’s much cheaper, even with the hellish commute.”
“Well, I think it’s beautiful,” he said, returning the subject to her hair.
“Thanks,” she said, as her eyes went skyward.
He smiled. “So…what do you think?”
“About what?”
“The party.”
“…Meh,” Amara simply said sarcastically.
“Not impressed?” He grinned.
“Five of my adolescent obsessions are here,” she replied.
“Five?”
“At least five, yes.”
He looked down at her as they walked arm in arm and frankly, was overwhelmed.
She smelled floral but he couldn’t quite place it. Lavender? Vanilla? He was close enough to her bare shoulders to kiss them. She was wearing hoop earrings and a modest gold necklace with a cross. So she did wear jewelry.
The top half of her back was exposed and either that was her ass, or she was smuggling something. The drape of her dress accentuated the drama of her figure and her graceful movements that were almost feline. The sight of so much of her glowing brown skin nearly hypnotized him. She literally made his mouth water.
“You look gorgeous,” he finally said.
This. is. happening, she thought.
She was wearing her roommate’s dress, the fanciest thing between them, arm in arm with him, and he was saying all the right things.
“I feel underdressed,” she confessed.
“You probably spent a fraction of what these women spent on their outfits, but I can’t take my eyes off you.”
Holy hell! This guy is trying to get laid, she thought.
Not that her body knew the difference, because she could feel it reacting to his every word and movement with all kinds of zings and spontaneous bursts.
