Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series)

by Ross, Christina

  For several blocks, we just walked in silence, each of us still processing what had happened at Gordon’s. Never in my life had I been so intimate with a man in public. What had come over me? Pure lust? To say the least. But with Blackwell’s words ringing through me again about his womanizing past, I had to wonder if I’d just been reckless with my heart, which was still pounding.

  Was I being played? I hoped that I wasn’t, because with his hand in mine and the taste of his lips still on mine, I’d already taken a big risk when I allowed him to kiss me the first time—and then the second, third, and fourth times. For better or worse, I’d gotten caught up in the moment, and now he knew for certain how deeply I was into him. But what would come from any of this? At that moment, I felt like a target—he could either shoot an arrow through my heart or fill it with joy.

  Not knowing what was to come unleashed a wealth of feelings in me. Excitement. Terror. Happiness. Fear. But I couldn’t deny what had just taken place, and so I had to put my faith in what I felt were two people responding to their emotions. Did Brock come off as a womanizer to me? It was still too early for me to tell, but the way he’d kissed me told me the truth of how he felt about me. There was no lying there. When we kissed, I knew that he felt it every bit as much as I did.

  So where do we go from here?

  “You’re quiet,” he said.

  “I’m not the only one.”

  “Kind of intense, huh?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Are you regretting it?”

  “No. Not now.”

  “But you might?”

  I stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at him as people walked past us on Fifth. “You know what Blackwell said about you. . . .”

  “That I’m a womanizer.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you’re concerned about that. You might even be thinking that what just happened back there wasn’t real. That it was only meant to get you into my bed. Am I right?”

  “When you put it that way, it sounds awful.”

  “I agree. It does sound awful but it’s not the truth. It’s not what I’m feeling right now. It diminishes everything that you and I just shared together, which was wonderful. Meaningful. Something I’ve waited years for. I’ve known Barbara since I was a kid and while I like her, I hate the barriers she’s set up between us. I’m not sure if I’ll ever forgive her for that, because it’s unwarranted. I will never lie to you, Madison. There was a period in my life when I slept with my share of women. But when I decided that I needed to drop my father and his resources from my life, I also knew that I had to change who I was in the process. I needed to make it at Wharton on my own. And when that struck me, it hit me hard because I knew that I needed to focus on school and work my ass off to prove my father wrong. Barbara thinks she knows who I am now, but she only knows who I was before I dropped off Alex’s radar. When I went out on my own, I had no safety net. I’d severed ties with my family. I knew that if I didn’t make it, I’d just prove to my father that I was a failure without his assistance. And because of that, I reassessed my life, I haven’t seen or slept with a single woman in two years, and now, after all of that, here I am with you.

  “I don’t know what came over me when I first met you, but I’ve since given it a lot of thought,” he said. “When I met you, I was first struck by how beautiful you are, but that’s just a passing thing, isn’t it? What really caught my attention was the fire you have in your eyes. I felt that you also were in the ring with me, trying to make a go of it for yourself in an unforgiving city. That emanated from you in waves, which I responded to. And which I still respond to. I know that you’re also fighting to prove yourself, but you need to know that I’m doing the same. Just because I happen to be Alex’s cousin doesn’t mean shit. Believe me, if I don’t come through with this report for him, he will dismiss me. And I don’t blame him for that. He has a large corporation to run, and that’s resting squarely on his shoulders. His shareholders rightfully expect a lot from him. And because of that, he has zero time for fools.”

  “Are you thinking that you’re going to fail?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I think I have a handle on Biogen Shire, the company I’m researching, but who knows how Alex and Jennifer will react when they learn that a year ago, during phase III trials of their new blood-pressure drug Inoxtin, that someone sued them for wrongful death and walked away with millions because of it. That happened about sixteen months ago, and since then, no other deaths have been attributed to the drug, which has been tweaked and refined. So considering all that, how much weight should I put on that death? Biogen Shire is now in phase IV trials, they’re almost ready to go to market, the success rate for their drug is high, and it looks as if FDA approval is on the horizon. So I’ve decided to recommend that Wenn Pharmaceutical acquire them. Am I right? Am I wrong? I have no idea how Alex and Jennifer will react to my report, because they’ve given me no guidance. They want me to flesh this out on my own—and then they’ll decide whether acquiring Biogen Shire is a good fit for Wenn, and also, based on my report, whether I’m a good fit for Wenn. It’s stressful.”

  “It would have to be,” I said. “I didn’t realize that you were so stressed out.”

  “Believe me, there have been times while writing this report when I’ve wanted to consult that business mind of yours, because I know that it’s being wasted in your current position. I could use another set of eyes on the report I’ve written.”

  “Are you finished with it?”

  “I finished it today. It’s a draft, but the core of it is there.”

  “Then send it to me tonight. I’ll have a look, and I’ll give you feedback. When do you need to deliver it to them?”

  “In three days.”

  “That’s plenty of time. Send it to me, I’ll look it over. I also think I overheard Blackwell saying to you that she’d read it herself.”

  “She did,” he said.

  “Then you’re covered.”

  And with that, he swept me into his arms, kissed me full on the mouth, and then he said something that would remain with me for the rest of my life.

  “Despite everything, we’re going to fall in love, you know?” he said. “I’m certain of it, Madison. I know it sounds crazy—but I can feel it. And I hope that you can too.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  When I arrived home that night, it was just past nine-thirty, and I saw that Rhoda was sitting in the living room. She had a glass of white wine in her hand, her red hair was pulled away from her cherubic face in a kerchief, and Bessie was working overtime to cool off the apartment.

  “Well, that was a long workout,” she said in a teasing voice as I walked into the living room.

  “You already know that it was much more than that.”

  “Kick off your shoes, toots. Change if you want. And if you’d like, we can catch up on our day and talk.”

  “You’re on.”

  When I emerged from the bedroom in shorts and a T-shirt, I sat down opposite her in one of the overstuffed chairs.

  “I poured you a glass of wine,” she said, nodding at the glass on the coffee table between us. “You know—to settle your nerves.”

  “They need to be quashed.”

  “I thought so.”

  I lifted my glass to her, she lifted hers to me, and we sipped.

  “You, my dear, are glowing,” she said.

  “Let’s just hope that I’m not when I arrive for work tomorrow. Because Blackwell will notice, and she’ll immediately wonder why.”

  “Blackwell, Blackwell, Blackwell. How about if we just dismiss her for the time being and you tell me about your workout.”

  I told her about my workout.

  “Well,” she said. “It certainly sounds as if you got in your cardio. What happened after that?”

  I told her what happened after that.

  “And then apparently you got in a bit more.”

  “Y
ou don’t even know.”

  “And now you’re doubting everything, am I correct?”

  “You already know that I am.”

  She furrowed her brow at me. “Sort of. Like I said, for the life of me, I can’t get a read on Brock, which is frustrating as hell. The man just comes up as a blank to me. Does he have a force field around him? I’m beginning to wonder if he does. Anyway, as you know, I’ve been able to tap into you since I was six, so tonight, I had a feeling that you were under some sort of romantic duress. Lot’s of highs, lot’s of indecisions, lot’s of questions. I figured it had to do with Brock.”

  “And how.”

  “So, tell me,” she said. “How do you feel?”

  “Overwhelmed. He was wonderful, Rhoda.”

  “Well, toots, then that is wonderful,” she said. “Tell me more.”

  “I’ve never been kissed by anyone like that.”

  “What was it like?”

  “Like nothing I’d ever experienced. I don’t know why, but there’s some sort of connection between us that I can’t explain or deny. It’s just there. I haven’t felt anything like what I’m feeling now with any other man that I’ve been with.”

  “Some connections we can never explain,” she said. “But they’re there for a reason. I can promise you that. The universe aligns, and it deploys.”

  “Naturally, there’s a downside to all of this. After what happened between us today, how in the hell am I supposed to work with him when I’m just going to want to be with him. Kiss him. Have his body against mine. Am I just setting myself up for disaster?”

  “I can’t answer that for you,” she said. “We have an agreement.”

  “Then you know?”

  She said nothing.

  “You’re right,” I said. “Best not to answer it. Because I do need to figure this out on my own.”

  “True enough,” she said. “And you will, Madison.”

  “I’m concerned about tomorrow,” I said.

  When Rhoda didn’t respond and instead looked down at her glass of wine, I knew at once that I had every reason to be.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The next morning, I decided to take the train to work. As hot as I knew it would be on the subway, I couldn’t afford to keep taking cabs, so I got up early, gave Rhoda a hug and a kiss on each cheek before I left, and walked the few blocks to the nearest station.

  With the morning air at my back, it wasn’t nearly as hot as it would be on the ride home, but the train I boarded was nevertheless packed with people, and the humidity was rising.

  Today, I’d chosen to wear an off-white, two-year-old ivory crepe jersey jacket, a matching pencil skirt, and a dark-brown jersey tank with matching pumps. The outfit was far from new, but it still fit me well—and frankly, I thought it looked fine on me even though I knew in my gut that Blackwell would probably hate it.

  I wore my hair pulled away from my face, and I’d gone for a fresh, light foundation and a nude lip. Soon enough, I’d receive my first paycheck from Wenn, and when I did, I’d go back to Century 21 with Rhoda along for the ride, and we’d have a girls’ day of fun. I’d try to find some new business clothes that were more stylish than what I now owned.

  Until then, I’d just have to rely on what was in my closet.

  When the subway pulled away from the station, I heard one of my phones ding in my bag. I opened the bag, determined which phone it was, and saw that it was my work phone. Brock had sent me a text, which rattled me because this phone was only supposed to be used for business.

  I need to give him my personal number STAT, I thought as I turned on the phone. He can’t call or text me on this phone.

  Still, when I read the next, I couldn’t help but smile. “Good morning, Madison,” he’d written. “If I look a little rough this morning, that’s because I thought of you all night long. Sorry I didn’t send along the report. I decided to tweak it myself last night before I show it to you. Can’t wait to see you at work. X—Brock.”

  I immediately replied. “Sorry to hear that you couldn’t sleep,” I wrote. “Before you arrive, I’ll make sure that the coffee is on. In the future, call me on my personal phone. If Blackwell catches me using this phone for anything outside of business, she’ll have my ass. See you soon.” I gave him my personal number and sent off the text.

  As the train swayed and zipped through the bowels of Manhattan, stopping here and there, with new faces entering while others exited, I recalled my conversation with Rhoda last night, and how she hadn’t responded to me when I told her that I was concerned about today. I knew that couldn’t be a good sign, but after thinking about the situation last night as I tried to fall asleep, I came to the conclusion that, by sheer focus alone, I was capable of being on my game without allowing thoughts of Brock to derail me. Despite how I felt about him, I was hardly powerless. I just needed to be on point—and be the professional that Blackwell demanded and expected.

  And that’s what I plan to do.

  When I arrived at Wenn, I was thrilled to see that the morning subway ride wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I was a good fifteen minutes early, it had cost me next to nothing, and it had left me with more than enough time to reach my floor, slip into the restroom, blot the perspiration from my face with a paper towel, and touch up my makeup before I went to my desk.

  As I neared it, I heard Blackwell talking on her phone.

  “Daniella, please,” she said in that exaggerated voice of hers. “We’ve discussed this for the umpteenth time. Cutter has moved on—I can tell you that with certainty. You need to get him out of your head and move on with your life. I’m sorry? How was that? Really? Then you really have lost your mind and your self-respect. Under no circumstances will you propose to him again. You already embarrassed yourself when you got down on one knee and proposed to him in front of all of our friends. I’m telling you that you are too young for him. And besides, he already has someone else he cares about now. Yes, that person was his nurse, but who cares? What’s done is done. When you fall for someone, Daniella, as Cutter has for, uh, whatever her name is, there is no taking that back. Love is love. It can happen to any of us at any point, and to deny that it’s happened to Cutter is ridiculous. I should know. Your father and I might be divorced, but I can tell you that there was a time when we loved each other deeply, and that our relationship evolved quickly. So quickly, in fact, that I thought my head was going to spin off my shoulders.”

  Could I be hearing her correctly? Blackwell herself had once been in my shoes? I couldn’t believe it. I slowed my pace and stopped in the break room, which was only three offices away from her office. I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but given her own swift judgment of Brock and me, I couldn’t stop myself from listening.

  “There are other men in this city who are just as worthy of you. Yes, I get it—Cutter is special. But again, he’s also taken. So, for your own sake and please, for the love of God, for your own mother’s sanity, let go of him and move forward with your life. What’s that? Oh, no you won’t. You will not create a Tinder account. I might not have known what you meant by that when you mentioned it at dinner last night, but believe me, girl, I Googled it this morning, and I’ll be damned if you are going to start whoring yourself out to every man in Manhattan with shots of your cleavage and sexy what-nots. If you even dare to open an account, I will find out through your sister. Alexa will tell me everything. You know she will. And if I do find out that you defied me, I swear to God that I’ll cut you off.”

  There was a pause in their conversation, and I waited with bated breath for Blackwell to say something more.

  “Look, Daniella, tears are never the answer,” she said in a surprisingly maternal voice. “I know that you’re upset. I know that you’re disappointed. You might not think so, but I do get it. I know how powerful it can be when you fall hard for someone. I also know how disappointing it can be when the love you feel for that person isn’t reciprocated. During my freshman year in coll
ege, I was in that very situation with a young man whose name shall never be spoken. Yes, sort of like Voldemort from those Harry Potter books I read to you and Alexa when you were young—though to be fair, the young man I’m talking about wasn’t nearly as evil as that beast. Still, he was wholly disinterested in me, which was heartbreaking. I had to come to terms with that just as you have to do so with Cutter. Will it be easy for you? Clearly not in the interim. But things will get better. Trust your mother on this. So listen to me. How about if you take one of the credit cards and go shopping with Alexa or one of your girlfriends? That should cheer you up.”

  There was a beat of silence before Blackwell said, “Alexa is not a lesbian. But even if she was, who cares? I certainly hope that you don’t—she is your sister, after all, and she has one of the biggest hearts I know. That girl is a light. Am I stymied that a child of mine became so environmentally conscious? Of course I am. But she will forever be my little tree-hugger. Still, if you’d rather not take her with you—fine. Go out with one of your girlfriends and do some therapeutic shopping, but don’t you dare spend over five grand. Do we have a deal on that? Not a penny over. Good. I love you too. More than you know, Daniella. All of this will get sorted out in time and blow over. One day, you’ll find that special young man who is as interested in you as you are in Cutter. I promise. All right. I’ll see you later tonight for dinner. Have fun today and please, for your own sake, forget about Cutter.”

  When I heard her sigh as her cell phone clicked against her desk, I quietly backed down the hallway and then purposefully walked up it again in earnest. When I passed her office, I stopped to say hello, only to find that she had her head in her hands.