Lauren looks at me happily as though she’s waiting for me to joke about Vincent’s hotness or illusiveness, but I can’t chat with her about Vincent. I can barely think about him when I’m all alone, for God’s sake.
“You look like you’re having an entire conversation in your head right now. What’s wrong, babe? Come on, let’s go out and have fun,” she begs. “A drink or five will do you good.”
I grimace. “But—”
She raises a hand, cutting me off. “Women stick together, right? Don’t leave me alone with those savages.”
“You sure you want to call in the girl card tonight?”
“If I use it, will you come? Because I look really good tonight and I don’t want it to go to waste,” she pouts.
I laugh. “Fine. Let me get my bag.”
“Yay!” She sprays my hair quickly before dropping the can back into her purse and links her arm into mine. Clinging to me like a barnacle, she ensures I don’t duck and run as we walk back into my office.
“Maybe a drink is in order, even if it’s with the DBC.”
“That’s my girl!” she says with glee as I take my bag from underneath my desk before fluffing my own roots. I sling my purse over my shoulder, ready for a break.
“Let’s just go get this over with.”
She leads me out the front doors and into the elevator.
Luckily, we don’t have to walk too far to the bar since it’s only a few blocks from the office.
The entire place is packed with suits. Moving toward the back, we find Jonathan and the DBC sitting together at a long wooden table in the corner. They shift over grudgingly to make space for us. Jeff pushes an open Corona Light in my direction and I grab it and bring it to my lips, not pausing before taking a long gulp.
“Thirsty?” He chuckles. I ignore him. The truth is, the ice-cold beer is seriously hitting the spot right now.
I turn to Lauren, who’s staring at the menu. “Are we ordering any food? I’m starved.”
Jonathan puts his hand up to call the waitress over. When she gets to our table, he orders three baskets of fries, an assortment of cheeses, two orders of beef sliders, and shots of tequila for everyone. The liquor choice is a pretty aggressive move for a Monday, even for Jonathan.
He takes a nice long look at the waitress’s ass before turning back to me. “Who would have thought you, of all people, would bring in our biggest client to date? You’re a brilliant girl, Eve. I don’t tell you enough.” Even though it’s backhanded, I still smile from the compliment and take another gulp of my beer, hoping the bottle covers the blush that has taken over my face.
The drinks arrive. We all bring our shot glasses up in the air, ready to toast the Milestone when the table goes quiet. Everyone’s heads crane up. I swivel my head to look where they’re staring. The moment I see who’s coming, I gasp, startled by the huge, hulking form walking toward me.
My eyes greedily travel over every inch of him. He’s wearing dark denim and a gray button-down shirt. His hair is incredibly mussed, as if he recently put his hands through it. If Janelle were here, she’d say he looks like he just fucked the shit out of someone. I swallow hard. Vincent. My heart pounds his name, almost painfully. What is he even doing here?
Jonathan stands to welcome him. I glance around the table, noticing that no one else looks surprised. Plastering a fake smile on my face, I do my best to act like nothing is amiss.
“So glad you were able to make it out tonight.” Jonathan takes Vincent’s hand in a firm shake. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to find the time,” Jonathan exclaims. “Come and sit down. Oh, Eve, scoot over.”
I move myself to the left as Vincent sits down to my right. He angles his body toward me and puts out his hand for a cordial hello. I shake it calmly without making any eye contact before glancing around to make sure no one sees our handshake as anything more than strictly business. I finally look up at his piercing gaze.
Before I can cross my legs, his denim-clad leg presses against my bare thigh. I’m taken aback for a moment, silently cursing myself for wearing a skirt today. Sure, it’s appropriate work attire since the length hits mid-knee. But sitting down, it has ridden up and left most of my legs exposed. I’d be lying if I said the contact didn’t heat me up inside, but it also makes me vulnerable. I can’t have any skin-on-skin with this man if I want to keep my sanity. Business. Everything with Vincent is now strictly business.
Jonathan pipes up, immediately garnering Vincent’s attention. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. I’m glad you came out tonight.” Jonathan lifts his drink to cheers, and Vincent responds with a nod. I shoot back my drink in one swallow, ignoring the fact that I’ve barely eaten all day.
The truth is, I shouldn’t be surprised that Vincent is here. Jonathan always aims to be friends with clients, and a few nights a month, he expects us to come out and schmooze. It not only buys us leniency if there are delays, but it also makes for an easier work environment when we’re all friendly.
“Eve just arrived, too. This girl can outwork anyone else. She’s the perfect person for the work you’ve got, and I must say, you were absolutely right to request her.” Jonathan’s face is turning red from drinking, but it’s clear that he’s in his comfort zone.
“So, Jonathan.” Vincent clears his throat and the entire table quiets, seemingly waiting for his next word. “I think it’s important for her to see the Milestone.”
“Yes. I was planning to email Eve tomorrow morning to let her know that she should head over to Nevada right away. She’ll be able to do lots of due diligence on the project; she’s already read the files you sent over prior to our meeting. It’s all good. How long do you think she’ll need?” His voice is all excitement. I feel shell-shocked, as though his words are bombs.
“I think a week would be sufficient for this first trip,” Vincent replies casually.
“A week?” I shout, practically leaping out of my chair. My eyes immediately move around the table; everyone stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Oh...” I smile, letting out a small self-conscious laugh and tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “I don’t think a week is really necessary. I mean, I could do it in two or three days. I’m sure. Or one day, even.”
Jonathan’s mouth spreads in a wide grin, but behind his eyes, he’s telling me he will cut me if I anger our client. “Yes, it’s true Eve, you are a fast worker.” He laughs, trying to ease the awkwardness. “But if Vincent thinks a week is necessary, I’m sure a week is what you’ll need.”
Jonathan cranes his head looking around for the waitress. Unable to find her, he turns to me with a request on his lips. “Eve, the waitress is so damn slow. Why don’t you go to the bar and find out if the drinks and food are coming soon? Vincent, what do you want? Eve will order for you while she’s up there.”
I make a move to stand when Vincent’s heavy hand grips my bare thigh locking me down in place. It’s huge and hot and incredibly strong; there is no escape. Without any preamble, warmth travels straight into my belly and down through my legs, the strength of which I haven’t felt in ages.
Vincent turns back to Jonathan, his voice short. “Why don’t you just flag down the waitress? Eve doesn’t need to get up.”
Jonathan’s mouth snaps shut as his nostrils flare. I don’t need Vincent to be my champion. If he keeps this up, everyone is going to assume what we have between us. And they’d be thrilled to spread a rumor that the reason I got this job is because I spread my legs. I hate the fact that I have to think this way, but what else can I do? I’m in this position and it forces me to keep all my hackles up.
I need to do damage control before anyone gets the wrong idea. “It’s no big deal. Let me go check on it; it’s my pleasure.” Vincent’s hand squeezes on my thigh again, a little higher this time and I swallow, my throat running dryer than the Sahara.
I tell my body to relax, but my mind wanders to what those hands can do. I flush, the heat moving up my collarbo
ne and into my face. I’m powerless. Once my mind gets the memo, I relax into his grip.
Luckily, the conversation turns moot as the waitress shows up with a huge tray filled with more drinks and food. The moment she places everything out on the table, he lifts his hand from my leg; I want to say I feel relief, but I don’t. Instead, it feels like loss.
Vincent looks up at the waitress, his body language casual. “I’ll have a Blue Label on the rocks, please.” The waitress smiles seductively, eyes noticeably widening as she checks him out.
What’s he going to do? Will he flirt back? I mean, he’s a gorgeous single man. Wait. Is he single? Maybe he isn’t. He probably isn’t. Not that I care.
He turns his head to dismiss her, and I quickly look to Lauren as if I’m about to tell her something enormously important, hoping he didn’t catch me staring.
It only takes a few minutes for the waitress to return with his drink. I watch him from my side-eye as he picks it up with his right hand, bringing the clear glass full of ice and amber liquid to his full lips which are more sensuous than any man’s has a right to be. Tilting his head back slightly, the drink goes straight down his throat.
“So, Vincent, where are you originally from?” Jeff sits up eagerly, hoping to make conversation. Now that the asshole knows the work is ours, he’ll probably try to angle himself to get involved and get a cut of billable hours. What an asshole.
“New York,” Vincent replies, clipped.
“Born and raised in California,” he smiles. “Eve is from New York, too. Aren’t you?” He looks between us questioningly, as if it’s oddly coincidental we’re both from the same state.
“Yes, I am.” I try to keep my voice even as if there’s nothing I’m hiding.
Jeff continues, his sharp eyes focusing on Vincent. “What part? I have family in Great Neck.”
“Oh?” Vincent stares at him dead on and Jeff immediately cowers, his pupils widening in anxiety. I have to admit, between the tatts, the scruff, and the muscles, Vincent is intimidating. Add in his death stare and he’s got all the ingredients for how-to-be-scary-as-hell. But it’s not just his physical traits that make him so intimidating. It’s more than that.
Vincent moves his body as if to say: this is me—I dress, walk, and act, as I truly am; if you don’t like it, you can go fuck yourself.
Vincent turns to Lauren as she asks him how long he’s staying out here in L.A. His reply is muffled, but she giggles. Making eye contact with the waitress, I lift my beer and put up a finger, miming “one more please.” Luckily, she nods in understanding.
“You should hang out with me and Eve tonight. We’re celebrating.” Lauren’s eyes sparkle.
“Oh yeah?” He takes another gulp of his drink before looking between us.
“Eve broke up with her boyfriend and I’m totally single. We’re celebrating our freedom.” She winks at me and my stomach drops.
After a polite smile, I face forward. Still I try, as shadily as possible, to hear every word of their conversation. Unfortunately, all my worries gather together, clamoring for headspace. He ruined you once; he could do it again. The only thing you can count on anymore is your work. Fucking emotions!
Thankfully, the waitress returns, handing me another drink. I wrap my hands around the cold bottle, ready to lift it to my lips when I realize I’m a few sips away from drunk. Water—I need water. I pick up my cup of tap and drink.
The conversation flows and Vincent looks totally relaxed. Everyone wants to impress him, but he maintains his laid-back and even-keeled demeanor. His calmness is infuriating. He obviously put our past behind him. Watching him act so calmly is making me realize there is only one truth: Vincent never cared about me. If he did, how could he possibly be so nonchalant right now? I need a break. On shaky legs, I manage to stand, albeit swaying a little bit first.
“I’m going to use the restroom; if you’ll excuse me,” I politely tell the table. I beeline to the bathroom, relieved to find it empty. After peeing quickly, I stand in front of the sink to wash my hands. But when I look up into the mirror, I realize I may cry. The last few years I’ve been unshakable. And now Vincent is back and I can already feel the tears welling. I bring my hands to my lips, puffy and red. I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me; I’m everything I wanted to become…yet more unfulfilled than ever. I feel ungrateful, confused, and stressed out. I have to leave.
I open the door, pausing as my eyes register what’s in front of me. She’s tall, with gorgeous red hair and a tight black dress. If this isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is. I’m about to lose it.
I do my best to politely say goodbye to the table, feigning a headache as an excuse and avoiding Vincent’s prying eyes. I walk away with a casual wave, as if I’m in no real rush, but once I’m far enough out of sight, I run out the front door and cross the street. I need to create physical distance between me and my shitty coworkers, who treat me terribly but I’m too scared to report—and Vincent, the only man on earth with the ability to break me into pieces.
I use my arm to wipe my tears away before pulling out my phone and clicking on the Uber app. Glancing back to the bar, I see Vincent jump out the front door, his head swiveling from left to right as if he’s searching. I hear him loudly curse before turning back inside. Leaning against the building, tears blur my vision. I just want to go home.
I get back into my apartment and pick up my phone to call Janelle. I haven’t spoken to her in a week. I hit FaceTime on my phone, needing to see her. She answers after the third ring, her hair tied in a white towel-turban. She looks exhausted but happy from a long day and night at her salon. I know that no matter how tired her feet get from standing all day, she’s fulfilled. Things aren’t always easy, but neither she nor I have any doubt this is her life’s calling.
“Hey, sissy!” She smiles, blue eyes shining. They dim as she assesses my state.
“You look drunk. Bad drunk.”
“Yeah, you can say that,” I swallow. “But there’s more.”
“How much more.” There’s a question in her voice.
“More more,” I reply, dread webbing my insides.
“Talk,” she says in that no-nonsense way of hers.
“Well,” I start, pulling off my heels and planting myself comfortably on my bed. “Vincent’s back.”
She gasps.
I fill her in on all the details of the Milestone and how he’s now technically a client of mine. When I get to the part of him showing up at my door after the Kids Learning Club gala, she looks downright furious.
“Jesus,” she replies, her forehead crinkling. “What does he look like? I wanna get a good visual.”
“He’s physically rougher. Bigger, even. Tatts and dark scruff like he couldn’t be bothered to shave. But I guess when he talks, he’s still sort of the same. Brilliant. What he built out in Nevada is pretty unbelievable.”
She purses her lips. “You’ve got a job to do, Eve. Don’t let that piece-of-shit-dickhead-motherfucking-asshole come between you and your work.” I can see the sneer on her face, but I’d bet money that she’s got a finger pointing at me.
“He wrecked me. My entire life was thrown into chaos because of Vincent Borignone.” I can feel a headache coming on along with a serious dose of anger.
“No shit.”
“And now,” I exclaim, standing up with the phone in front of me as I unzip and then shimmy out of my skirt. “He comes back and wants us to be normal. But how can I be normal? Is he insane?” I question angrily, unbuttoning my blouse before flinging it onto the floor.
“Listen, Eve. Do not let him steamroll over your life again. If you can’t handle working with him, just pass him over. Either give him to one of those assholes you work with or tell your boss that it’s dangerous to do business with him. You don’t need this—”
“No,” I reply quickly, cutting her off as I walk over to my dresser and pull out a pair of pajamas. “If I let his business go, he’ll win. He’s the biggest de
al to come through my door and I’m not going to just back down.”
“You know what? You’re right,” she shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Anyway, he’s the one who should be scared. Not you. Let me remind you: you did nothing the fuck wrong.”
“Exactly. But, Janelle, what if he didn’t actually—”
“Good, so it’s settled,” Janelle decrees. “Wash your face. Sleep. Tomorrow morning go for a run and drink your coffee. And when you get dressed, put your big-girl panties on because we are not letting him take even one more thing from you.”
I nod my head in solidarity. “You’re right.”
“Of course, I am.”
“I’m gonna sleep. My hangover tomorrow is going to suck.”
“Take an Advil now.”
I change into cozy sleep clothes, wash my face, and climb into bed. It only takes a moment for me to burst into tears; it’s an assault. Salty water runs through my sinuses and floods my face like a torrential downpour. Whatever strength I had from my phone conversation is now nothing but dust.
I spend the rest of the night awake in my bed, feeling my emotions like waves as they come and go from the forefront of my mind. I want to block them, but it’s not possible. As though I were a bystander in my own life, I replay the ending of Vincent and me, and my heart manages to break all over again.
10
EVE
It’s been a week since the disastrous night at the bar, and now I’m sitting on Vincent’s private plane on my way to Nevada to visit the Milestone. Per Jonathan’s orders, I’m to complete due diligence that cannot be done remotely. I already spoke with Vincent’s assistant, Kimber, to ready all the files.
This is my first flight since I came out to California. Once I got out here, I never left. Janelle asked me to come back to New York for Christmas and other holidays, but I always refused—too much pain and memories in my home city that I don’t want to deal with. Can’t deal with.
Redemption (Vincent and Eve #3) Page 8
