Tell Me What You Crave

by Susan Sheehey

  Grace looked around the floor for her. Maybe she’d escaped to the restroom, or was at the copier. The uncomfortable chat they were about to have would hopefully be in the conference room. It was the only space on the floor with solid walls, except for the bathroom.

  Her schedule for the rest of the day was booked, first with a conference call with her lawyer, followed by a budget meeting and a bazillion emails to sift through. There’d be no time before lunch to break it to Alicia.

  Grace didn’t make it three feet out of her office door before Tom strolled in and met her gaze from across the way.

  His smile instantly widened. “Grace!” He waved at her, the wrinkles by his eyes deepening with every step. “You were holding out on me, all this time.”

  She took a step back, but there was nowhere to escape. Several others had stopped to watch them. “I’m in a bit of crisis management mode right now, Tom. Give me a day—”

  “What are you talking about? Couldn’t be happier for you.” The man pulled out his cell and started touching the screen. “You’re everywhere. Granted, I know you don’t like the attention, but you look so happy in this picture.” He held out his phone.

  Grace’s mouth went dry.

  On the home-screen of a major entertainment tabloid site was a picture of her, mid-laugh from the charity event. Directly next to that was a photo of her locking lips with Dorian. From the driving range.

  How the hell…?

  “Someone followed me,” she whispered in horror. Which worsened when her eyes caught the headline.

  Two-Timing a Two-Timer

  A small picture in the corner of the article showed her hugging Ruben Wilde, next to another of what looked like a more intimate embrace. But she recognized the outfit she wore all those years ago on the day she heart Meggie’s heart. A shot taken at the wrong time, with no romantic context behind it.

  The implication she was Ruben Wilde’s mistress, caught cheating on a married man in a torrid affair. The urge to incinerate every mobile phone on the planet singed through her mind, followed by an instinct to crawl under her desk.

  “Shit,” she breathed.

  “Don’t pay any attention to the rumors, Grace.” Tom’s smile never faltered. “I’m sure none of that part is true. I liked that Dorian.”

  “What are you doing reading a tabloid?”

  He shrugged. “My daughter showed me how to setup a Google alert on anything posted about the charity. This was the first one that came up this morning.”

  The blood drained from Grace’s face. “They mentioned the charity in there?”

  “Hey,” He tapped her arm to reassure her. “Any publicity is good publicity. Now, are you bringing Dorian to the check unveiling?”

  Her head spun, and the carpet moved under her feet in weird zigzag patterns. The phone in her hand weighed a ton. She immediately dialed Julie’s cellphone, with no answer.

  “What’s wrong?” Tom tilted his head. “Everyone knows this article is crap. I really wouldn’t sweat over it, Grace.”

  Her stomach curdled. “If it were your reputation they were trashing, you’d be just as infuriated. But the real problem is who else they’ve dragged in the mud with me.”

  “You mean that Ruben Wilde?”

  “If you get any calls from reporters today, please don’t speak to them.” She scrolled through her contacts to reach her lawyer.

  “I’ve already hung up on five attempts this morning.” Alicia strolled up behind her, a new coffee cup in hand.

  Just as Grace’s gut had approached nuclear levels, it froze at her admin’s voice. “You’ve seen?”

  Her smile was sympathetic as she handed her the coffee. “I’ve already sent out a memo alert to the office asking them not to comment if they’re approached by anyone.”

  Grace blinked. “Th-thank you.” She focused on keeping her cup steady through the nervous shakes. “Uh…may I speak with you in private?”

  Alicia glanced at the wall clock. “Don’t you have a conference call?”

  “This will only take a few minutes.”

  Her admin nodded, and followed her into the conference room.

  With a deep sigh, Grace shut the door and turned to face the awkward and embarrassing whale of a conversation in the room. “I’m sure you’re at the very least confused about what you read. Probably angry. I had no intention of—”

  “I was so sorry to read about your husband and daughter. I had no idea.” Alicia clasped her hands in front of her, her voice sympathetic, but her face blank.

  “I didn’t want to share that part of my life with anyone. It’s painful enough. I’m sorry if you’re upset that I wasn’t more open with you.”

  “That’s not why I’m upset.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Grace flexed her shaky fingers. “I’m sure it’s not. Please understand, the picture with me and Dorian isn’t—”

  “What I think it is?” She rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.” Alicia’s voice turned bitter, and her posture defensive.

  “I’d like to apologize. I had no intention of embarrassing you.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she fisted her hands by her sides. After a quick sigh, her face returned to normal and she finally answered. “You have thirty-two voicemails to return about the fundraiser. I deleted another seventeen from reporters. And there’s a good sixty emails that you need to address this morning.”

  “Please, Alicia. Let me explain.”

  “When I’m ready to hear it, you’ll be the first to know. Until then, I’d rather get back to work.”

  Grace ground her teeth.

  She has every right to be angry.

  “If that’s what you want.” She swallowed. “If you receive a call from Ruben or Julie Wilde, please put them through for me…even if I’m in a meeting.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And if Dorian calls?” Alicia raised her perfectly manicured eyebrow into an angled arch. The piercing stare was understandable, yet still inappropriate from a subordinate to her boss.

  She let it slide. Her head started to pound anyway. Grace was about to answer, take a message. But if she was supposed to pretend she and Dorian were a real couple, she had to treat him like a real boyfriend. “Send him through, too.”

  Alicia brushed past her to her desk.

  Grace remained in the conference room to calm down, and forced her brain onto her professional life. It was all she had left.

  After an infuriating conference call with her lawyer, who in a nutshell explained she had no legal course of action until her business started to suffer, she patted her hair in place, and let her grip rest on her neck. Her skin was burning.

  Official comments from her attorney were the only kind of option she could take. Especially since Ruben’s publicist wasn’t responding to any comments either.

  The Wildes had been a black hole since yesterday. Something that weighed on Grace like an anchor in a typhoon. It didn’t help that every time she tried to call him, or Julie, or Pax, it would go straight to voicemail.

  That, and everyone’s cellphones in her office dinged across the floor with a new notification of the news story, and occasionally glancing at her through the glass walls. She tried to ignore it, and focus on the mountain of emails that’d triplicated in the last hour.

  Until Alicia knocked on her door. She didn’t need to call her inside. Through the glass walls, she could easily see the reason.

  A ridiculous bouquet of roses, three dozen at least, with blooms in red, white, peach, yellow, and pink filled her admin’s arms.

  Grace couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping to her laptop.

  Alicia pushed through with an impressive scowl to match. “These just arrived for you.”

  She didn’t need to ask from whom. Only one person would be this audacious and irritatingly sweet.

  Her admin set them on her desk, the ceramic vase thunking against the wooden top. Her cheeks were flushed again, and her eyes were harsh. �
�You have another five messages, and Ruben’s publicist has asked you call him at noon.”

  Her head shot up. “Why didn’t you put him through?”

  “He didn’t want to be put through. Just for me to pass along the message.” She set down the sticky notes, and walked out.

  The roses filled the air with a fresh, sweet scent. Grace had to stand to find the card in the middle of the bouquet. She opened it.

  Stop worrying. Hope these brighten your day. See you tonight. ~ D.

  Stop worrying.

  She bit her lip. That was much easier said than done. Grace grabbed the vase and moved it to the circular coffee table in the corner of her office by the window. She tilted her head at the beautiful blooms.

  The sweet gesture surprised her. She hadn’t taken him as the kind of guy to send flowers. Then again, he was trying to help portray a real relationship.

  I wonder if he would do this kind of thing in real life.

  Her view overlooked Klyde Warren Park, a green space built over a major highway for pedestrians and outdoor enthusiasts in the middle of Dallas skyscrapers and concrete.

  A few dogs drank from the splash-pad fountains while their owners strolled through the botanical garden area. The break of bright green in the middle of all the glass and metal of downtown was a welcome distraction to her aching eyes.

  The couple walked hand-in-hand, lazily moving through the paths without a care in the world. Without acknowledging the bustling, crazy city surrounding them and the oppressive noise of the highway only yards below.

  A knock on the glass door pulled her around. Tom held a black leather business folio in his hand. “Budget meeting. Aren’t you coming?” Then his gaze caught the beautiful bouquet. He gave a playful smile. “Earning brownie points, that one. Class act.”

  Grace glanced at the bouquet. The colorful roses reminded her of the kiss last night, breath stealing and completely unpredictable. Just like him. She smiled. Class act indeed.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Dorian

  He propped himself against the concrete pillar outside Grace’s work. He wore a casual gray suit and buttoned shirt, with a loose black tie. Had to fit the yuppie stereotype for an urban jungle, otherwise someone would think him a stalker. The warm air and lack of breeze made him sweat within five minutes.

  Dorian wasn’t here for Grace. He had another person to apologize to. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but it had to be done. Even his hour workout this morning hadn’t eased the likely unpleasant result that would come out of this.

  A few minutes later, a few people came through the rotating doors, clearly the start of lunch hour. Eventually, Alicia came through, fiddling with her phone.

  He pushed off the pillar and called her name.

  Her head popped up. When she noticed him, she frowned.

  This isn’t going to be good. Clearly, she’d seen the picture of him and Grace locking lips at the driving range. Even he didn’t expect any of those paparazzi to catch up to them last night. Those suckers were crafty. Hopefully within a few days, all of this would be spun to the positive side.

  But he’d definitely lost a client in the process.

  “Please, Alicia. Just a few minutes.”

  Her frown deepened, cutting into the smooth skin on her cheeks. Instead of turning away like he’d expected, she glided toward him in her navy blouse and black capri pants. Her heels clicked on the brick accents on the ground.

  He stopped, and let her come the rest of the way. When she closed the distance, she punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

  Dorian feigned hurt, even though she wasn’t that strong. If it made her feel better, he’d play that part. “Ow!” He grabbed his shoulder.

  “You jackass!”

  Her yell echoed off the towering buildings, and several people glanced over. However, most of them kept walking.

  “All right, I admit it. I already knew Grace. She’s my neighbor.”

  “Neighbor? I bet you really enjoy borrowing a cup of sugar from her!” She punched him again in the same spot. It still didn’t hurt, but this time he flinched. “Why? How the hell…” Her grip tightened on her phone, and she started to shake. “Dammit! I don’t even know where to start! You made me look like a total fool to my boss! Then she swiped you right out from under me! Seriously? Who does that?”

  “I didn’t tell you at the fundraiser because I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

  “Oh, how thoughtful!” Alicia’s hazel eyes flared. “Was that before or after you started dating my boss?”

  Dorian forced a deep breath. “You and I had a business relationship. I thought I made that clear Saturday night.”

  “I introduced you to everyone there as my boyfriend, Dorian. Now everyone has seen your picture kissing Grace. I look like a naïve, jilted idiot. In front of all those people.”

  “It was your idea to present me as your boyfriend. But you knew the arrangement prior to that night. No attachments to clients.”

  “Oh, but their bosses are fair game? Do you charge extra for ruining my professional life the morning after?”

  He clamped his jaw hard. Telling her people probably didn’t remember or care about her two-hour pretense with him, since they were all so focused on Grace and Ruben Wilde, would make her reaction worse. “Alicia…”

  “What?”

  “Do you have the interview with the new job or not?”

  Alicia blinked. “Yes.”

  “Did Grace act like she thought less of you this morning?”

  “Not quite.” Her expression darkened.

  “Did anyone else in the office?”

  She huffed. “No.”

  “I think your reputation is pretty safe. And you got what you really wanted out of the whole thing.” Dorian slipped his hands in his pockets. “The next step up.”

  With a tap of her foot, she crossed her arms. Alicia didn’t look him in the eye anymore, this time her gaze fell over Klyde Warren Park and the dog-walkers.

  “If it’s any consolation, Grace was very worried about you. What you thought of her after this. She thinks very highly of you.”

  The red on her cheeks lessened to a light pink. After another long moment, she finally sighed. “She’s really taking a beating up there today. The flowers were a nice touch.”

  He tried not to smirk. “Too much?”

  “They were obscene. And as pissed off as I am—and I really am—I still don’t like seeing her this rattled. She’s been an awesome boss, up until...”

  “Should I go up and see her?”

  Alicia shook her head, and checked her phone. “She’s on conference calls all day.” Her eyes narrowed, and looked him directly in the face. “Are you really dating? Or is she just another client?”

  Dorian mirrored her expression. He didn’t want to hurt her, but then again telling the whole truth wasn’t her business. “It’s complicated.”

  “Is she paying you?”

  “No.”

  She rolled her eyes, and the wrinkles in her forehead returned. “Then you’re really dating.”

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  Alicia shook her head, and took a deep breath. “I have to go, I only have thirty minutes.”

  “May I make one request?”

  Her jaw muscle twitched, and her gaze was anything but amenable.

  “If anyone approaches you and asks for information on her, or me, will you please not—”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing all morning?” Her voice turned vicious. “I’ve hung up on at least fifty of those vultures since six a.m. What have you done, besides gel your hair?”

  A large flash blinded him, but it was the familiar sound of a camera click that made him cringe. A few yards away in an unsuspecting tan sedan, a frumpy man held up a lens through his open window, and took pictures in rapid session.

  Of the pair of them.

  “Shit,” Dorian breathed.

  Alicia started punching numbers in
her phone, her face red once again. “Security…”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dorian

  Dorian forced a deep breath, and stuck his hands in his pockets. Nonchalantly, he strolled over to the car, where the paparazzi continued snapping shot after shot. Dorian smiled.

  He has no idea what’s coming.

  As long as Alicia made it inside safely, he could take care of the rest.

  The man appeared as though he hadn’t showered in days. The jeans and buttoned shirt were at least ironed. The camera was an impressive piece of machinery. Definitely not cheap.

  “Afternoon,” Dorian announced. He noticed a bunch of empty Chinese food containers in the front seat.

  The paparazzo held up his hand, a disgusting smirk on his face. “This is a public plaza, and I have every right to be here.”

  “You’re right.” He grinned. “This is a public plaza. A pretty one, isn’t it? Have you been to Klyde Warren Park before?”

  “What can you tell me about your little girlfriend over there? The one you were so engaged with before? Or perhaps your other girlfriend upstairs?” He sneered.

  The photographer let his camera rest right on his door frame. Totally unsuspecting.

  Dorian had him completely distracted. “Not a damn thing.”

  Before the paparazzi could respond, he snatched the camera out of the man’s hands and turned away.

  The journalist jumped out of his car with a holler.

  As Dorian walked to the main office doors, it didn’t take him long to find the SD card and pull it from the drive.

  “I’m calling the police on you! You’ve stolen my property!” He reached for his camera, just as Dorian whirled around.

  His smile expertly in place.

  “Call the cops for what? You have no right to take my picture without my consent.” He handed the camera over. Perfectly intact. “And I haven’t stolen anything.”

  “You were in a public place,” the photographer shot back, his breath reeking of garlic. “I can take whatever photos I want. Give me the SD card, or I’ll call the police.”

  “Correction,” Dorian smiled. “We were in a public place. However, you are currently on private property. This office complex owns everything up to those cement barricades right there.” He pointed to the decorative stones arcing out from the entrance, where he’d lured the man between. “The photos you took were of me, on private property. Of which you are currently trespassing. Both are illegal.”