by Skyla Madi
“It was a terrible joke.” He smirks, weighing the smooth, thin board in his hand. “I’m going to borrow this for Sunday.”
I arch a brow. “You’ve really planned an evening of ‘lovemaking’ on Sunday, huh?”
“I’ve planned all my evenings with you for the rest of our lives.”
“What’s tonight?”
He shrugs, like it’s so simple. “We’re going to watch a movie.”
Excitement coils in my stomach. We’ve never done that together before. I smile, slowing my pace. As he steps by me, he takes my hand in his and we walk out of the barrel room. When we step into the hall, he stops walking and tugs me into him. Gasping, my hands fly to his chest to keep myself from bouncing off his large frame, and he backs me against the concrete wall.
“What are you doing?” I ask, almost breathlessly.
“I just want to kiss you real quick.”
I glance between his beautiful eyes and his full lips. “There are cameras in this hall…”
The corners of his lips twitch. “Good. They can send me a copy.”
He kisses me and still, even after our night of endless passion, desperation, and sex, there’s an edge of need to his kiss. A thrill runs through me at the thought of having him in my office or skipping work altogether just to be with him, naked, and not for the sake of orgasming.
Being intimate with Jai has never been about selfish, sexual gratification. It’s about the way he makes me feel. It’s in the way my palms tingle unbearably at the mere thought of pressing them to his hardened body. I don’t have to touch him, or even be in the same room as him, for shockwaves to shoot through my body. He touches my thoughts and every inch of my body swells.
My core.
My heart.
My soul.
He is everything I once thought I didn’t need and everything I never knew I wanted.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by the feel of his hot, rough hand against my inner thigh, rapidly closing in on its target. I choke on a giggle. This isn’t professional. I slap my hands against Jai’s chest and push him away. I don’t have the strength to fight him off—that I know for a fact—but Jai backs up anyway.
“You are bad,” I say, pointing my finger at him. My lips are swollen from the kiss, I can feel it. “No sex at my workplace, not even if Joel tries to set it up.”
Jai arches a brow at me, feigning innocence. “I wasn’t trying to have sex with you.”
“Oh, please,” I spit playfully, sauntering ahead. “I could stick a picture of me to a pencil sharpener and you’d try to fuck it.”
He shrugs with a laugh. “Sounds like a compliment to me.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “Just make sure that delivery sheet gets to Alberto for dispatch, please?”
“Yes, boss.”
I turn toward the stairs that lead to my office as Jai strolls toward the double glass doors that open outside to our delivery dock. I plant my foot on the first step and grab the railing, peering over my shoulder at him. He pauses with his hand on the door knob, looking back at me.
The thought of going on with the rest of my day without him fills me with emptiness.
“I’ll see you at dinner? We’ll watch a movie?” I ask and he nods, smiling so handsomely at me that my knees weaken.
“Sounds like a perfect night, Kitten.”
He waves, then leaves. I stand still as the light that filtered in from outside cuts off and the door clicks shut. My heart swells in my chest at the use of his stupid pet name for me.
Kitten.
God, I hate it…
…or maybe I hate that I love it.
Eleven
Emily
Work Related
Joel pulls the cart up on the front lawn of his place and I grab my over-sized handbag and swing my legs out the left side, ignoring his rant about my poor decision-making skills. I couldn’t care less about what Joel thinks, but Jai…I sigh. He’s going to be mad at me when I tell him I’m not going to be home for dinner. I want to do what we had planned more than anything, but business calls. I don’t want to neglect what I helped build simply because he’s back.
I follow Joel as he storms onto the porch and pulls open the front door, stepping to the side to let me in first. Monique decided last minute that we’d all be having dinner together tonight—excluding Ted, Hannah, Huss, and Benji. They’ve decided to spend the night in Florence.
I wanted it to just be Jai and I, but I guess that doesn’t matter now. I have to go back to work anyway.
“Thank you,” I say as I step past Joel.
“I’m still mad at you.”
I roll my eyes. What’s fucking new?
He overtakes me in the foyer as he whips off his steel colored jacket and storms toward the kitchen, in the direction of Monique’s melodious laughter. The warmth from her cooking surrounds me and I inhale, filling my lungs with the smell of onion and basil.
“Dinner is almost ready,” she announces when we enter the spacious room.
She stands over the stovetop in the middle of the kitchen, red sauce spattered over the front of her pale blue apron. Monique has changed a lot since having Jacob. She’s a certified housewife and mother. She cooks, cleans, and even makes her own baby food. Incredible, given her age. I definitely don’t give her enough credit for what she does.
I automatically seek out Jai, who lies on his side on the rug in the sitting room, squeaking a toy in front of Jacob’s face, who’s happily booting away in his activity center, paying no attention to his uncle.
My cheeks heat when I realize Jai’s lying in the spot where Monique and I made out, over a week ago now. We haven’t spoken about it since and she’s happy to let me live in denial, thank God.
“Tell her what a sleaze ball he is, Nique,” Joel demands, grabbing two beers out of the fridge. “Tell her what he said to you the last time we met with him.”
“Who?” she asks.
“Pete-fucking-Ramone.”
Monique rolls her eyes as he pops the lids off and slides a beer across the kitchen island to Jai who’s moved onto a stool on the other side. He loosens his dark gray tie and rolls the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows, exposing huge masses of creative black ink.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
He glares at her, taking a wine glass from the drying rack, while she stirs the big pot of simmering sauce. “He’s a pig.”
Monique lifts the spoon and dips the tip of her pinky into the sauce to taste it. “I’m not saying he isn’t.”
She grabs a pinch of salt from a saucer off to the side and adds it to the pot.
“Whether he’s a pig or not is irrelevant. With his contacts, we can get our wine into any store or restaurant in Europe,” I point out. “Think of the money you could make.”
“I don’t care about money,” he shoots back, filling the glass with red wine. He hands it to me and I take it. “Your favorite.”
“Thank you.” I sip the wine.
“I don’t need money, Em,” he continues, and I cut my eyes at him as he takes a mouthful of his beer and saunters past me. “Ask Jai what he thinks about you going on a date tonight.”
Jai bristles and I close my eyes, sliding my teeth together as my frustration with Joel mounts. Don’t punch him. When I open my eyes, I purposely avoid Jai’s intense glare.
“It’s not a date,” I state clearly. “It’s a business meeting.”
Joel continues his stroll over to Jacob and lies down on the floor beside him. “No, it isn’t, because I don’t want to do business with him.”
“I already had Maci draw up the contract. I’ve got it in my bag.” I set my wine on the bench and walk toward him. He’s an idiot not to jump on this deal. “We’ll have a six-month trial period to see how it goes, and if we don’t like it, we can pull the plug without explanation.”
I plant my hands on my hips as he rubs his tired face. “Emily—”
“You wanted new investors, Joel. This guy is—”
“A fucking asshole.”
“You don’t have to deal with him. Hell, I don’t even have to deal with him after this dinner. We can palm him off to Matteo, let him handle Pete-fucking-Ramone.”
“You didn’t speak to him directly, did you?” Joel asks, curious, his lips quirked in amusement.
“I spoke to his assistant, Nina. What does that matter?”
He laughs and takes a sip of his beer before grabbing Jacob’s polar bear rattle. “Because if you had spoken to him directly, you wouldn’t have agreed to dinner.”
“You sound so certain.”
“I am.” He rattles Jake’s toy over his face, making him kick his legs and wave his arms.
“Joel,” Monique sighs from the kitchen, and I glance over my shoulder as she moves the pot to an inactive element. “If she can nail Pete, then—”
“Not nail,” I cut in with nervous laughter, chancing a glance at Jai’s frowning face. “There are better words to choose from.”
She snorts. “Right, sorry. If she can get through dinner, without punching him in the face, and manages to get his signature on the dotted line then, why not? You’ve been looking at broadening your distribution for months. Besides, I distinctly recall you asking her to help.”
I glance down at Joel, fighting the urge to poke my tongue at him.
Eventually, he exhales. “Fine. Jai will drive you.”
I frown. “That’s unnecessary.”
“Okay, I’ll drive you.”
I flash him my palms. The last thing I need is Joel’s pride jeopardizing the biggest deal for us because Pete said a few unbecoming words to Monique. “I’ll go with Jai.”
“Can’t wait to hear how this goes.” Joel grins, flicking his head toward the kitchen. “Take my truck.”
I hear keys jingle behind me before I can turn around and, in the doorway, Jai stands, waiting for me. I sigh and drag my feet toward him. Ah, well. At least we still get to spend some of tonight together. I’m not looking forward to what he has to say when we’re alone on the drive into town though.
“If I get him to sign the contract I’m taking tomorrow off,” I call out.
He snickers and I hate it. “If you get it, take the week off.”
I pull my handbag higher on my shoulder and follow Jai out to the drive, where he opens the passenger side door of Joel’s big, scary, black truck for me. I’ve never understood the appeal of the black on black, but Joel seems to like it a hell of a lot. Jai helps me into the seat, and when he climbs in behind the wheel, he can’t contain his smile. He rubs his palms over the wheel and the dash and I quirk my eyebrow at him.
“Careful. I’m getting jealous.”
Jai laughs, moving his hand to place it on my thigh and butterflies take off in my belly. It takes me back to the time he stole a car after we got out of the tunnels. He drove really fast, so fast I was certain he was going to crash and we were going to die.
The truck roars to life and I clench my stomach. Though I managed to pass my test, I rarely get behind the wheel. He backs away from the house and eases onto the road. I watch him as he drives. He’s much calmer than me and he doesn’t hug the wheel like I do.
We drive in silence for ten minutes before I can’t take it anymore. “You’re really not going to say anything about dinner with Pete?”
He doesn’t look at me. “Nope.”
“And you’re okay with it?”
“Yep.”
I’m not buying it. His grip tightens on the wheel, but he keeps going in the right direction.
“Really? The old Jai would’ve tied me to a chair until morning.”
“The old Jai did whatever was necessary to keep you safe.” He glances sideways at me, then back at the road. “The new Jai is very much the same as the old Jai, but he is trying to acknowledge and respect your independence, even if it drives him batshit crazy to sit around the house all day, wondering what you’re doing.” He squeezes my thigh and I purse my lips to keep myself from pointing out that it’s only been one day. “He realizes he doesn’t own you and it’s wrong to try and cage you.”
I smile at him. “Thank you. I—”
My phone interrupts me with a buzz from my bag, and a part of me hopes it’s Pete cancelling the meeting. I roll my eyes when I pluck it out. I sigh when I see who it is.
Joel: Nice dress, by the way, but he’s going to make u wish u wore a pantsuit.
I’m not holding back the I told u so’s this time!
On the end, there’s a little laughing emoji and a girl with her hand out. Asshole. Pete Ramone can’t be that bad, can he?
* Jai *
He’s late.
Very late.
Emily sits at the table Pete reserved by the window, looking out into the street. She taps her yellow highlighter against her full lower lip as she reads through the contract for a third time. Still, she finds things to highlight.
I sit in the corner of the restaurant, off to the side and a few tables away, in front of a plate of uneaten bruschetta. She hasn’t spotted me yet and I can’t imagine she’d be happy about me keeping an eye on her, even though I know I said I respected her independence. I do, but I have to make sure this guy is legit and not…
…Skull.
Guilt sinks like rocks in my stomach. If she ever finds out I lied to her about this—about Skull’s death—I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.
I check my device one last time for Skull’s whereabouts. The pings come from Romania. Nowhere else. Somewhat satisfied, I slip it back into my pocket and lean forward on my elbows.
In the middle of their table, a single red rose stands proudly in a tiny crystal vase. I hate this asshole and I haven’t seen his face yet.
The heavy seeds of jealousy in the pit of my stomach were planted in my gut the moment Joel and Emily walked into the kitchen together, bickering like a married couple. The way he was looking out for her, the way he poured her a glass of wine, seemingly without thought. It was her favorite apparently too. I didn’t know that.
Then, they mentioned a date with this fucking Pete Ramone—and it took precedence over the evening we had planned—so those seeds of jealousy grew into saplings. I’ve hidden it pretty well, all things considered. I don’t want her to feel bad because I’m a jealous asshole.
I glance at the metal clock on the far wall and, when the hands tick over to seven p.m., a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark violet suit casually saunters in, like he’s not forty minutes late, and adjusts the dark purple button on his two-piece suit with arrogant fingers.
I know it’s Pete immediately because his beady, black stare sweeps the restaurant and settles on Kitten—my Kitten. A wry grin spreads across his lips, only for him to hide it with a flick of his shoulders, and a swipe through his spikey, mouse-brown hair. Ignoring the waitress at the door, he walks right up to Emily and introduces himself.
“Annalise, right? Annalise Smith?” he asks, his Irish accent coming in thick as he stands awfully close to her chair.
I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking he’s got the wrong girl…until I recall her new name.
Damn.
“Oh.” She pushes her chair back and stands up, offering her hand. “That’s me.”
He places his hand over hers and my nose twitches.
“You’re a lot prettier than my assistant described. She said you’d be a blonde, but…” He plucks a lock of her hair between his thumb and index finger. “You’re not. I prefer it.”
I grit my teeth. I just might kill a man tonight.
Emily frowns at Pete, pulling back enough for her hair to slip out of his grasp. “Right. Do you want to sit? There are a few key requirements I’d like to go over before—”
“We can talk business later,” he says, releasing her hand. He moves to sit opposite her. “First, let’s eat.”
Emily’s jaw noticeably tightens with impatience. She wants to get home in time to watch a movie before bed. I do too. We’ve never watched a movie
together…I wonder what her favorite genre is? There’s so much I don’t know about her, but I’m determined to learn.
They don’t talk much as they order their food and wait. It isn’t until Pete is halfway into his wine that his tongue starts to loosen. It’s small talk, mostly. He asks her why she moved to Italy and she answers flawlessly about working with Beau—a.k.a. Joel—her brother-in-law. I can tell immediately Pete doesn’t like Joel. It’s in the way his facial features darken, and he fights the urge to let his lips curl back and expose his teeth.
Originally, I thought Joel was overreacting, but this Pete guy is a real piece of shit. He exudes arrogance and inflated self-importance. I can’t stand it.
I take a bite out of my bruschetta, fending of frustrated staff, when their food arrives. The waitress presses for Emily to buy an alcoholic beverage and she refuses, but Pete isn’t having any of that, so he goes for a different approach.
“Have one drink with me and then we can go straight into discussing your contract.”
Emily smiles politely, but I can see the apprehension in her face. The waitress suggests their wine of the night, to which Emily snorts, cracking a joke about drinking the competition, and the corner of my lips pull upward. It’s so interesting to watch her interact. She’s so full of life and calm and in control, nothing like the girl I knew in those tunnels.
Eventually, Emily caves and orders a light rosé spritzer. A smart choice, given its lower alcohol content. It takes them twenty minutes to finish their meal. Pete is on his fourth glass of wine and Emily is still nursing her spritzer, only a mouthful away from finishing. She brushes her napkin across her mouth and sits forward.
They discuss the contract—well, Emily discusses, he just listens. When she reaches the end, she holds out a pretty, gold fountain pen, but Pete doesn’t reach for it. Instead, he stares at her, swirling the last mouthful of wine in his glass.
“I’m not signing anything until you have at least three drinks with me.”
I feel my face pinch together in a scowl. He’s not serious?
Emily pulls back, offended, and it takes everything I have in me to keep my ass planted to this chair. She can handle herself.
