Dylan
‘The Show Must Go On’
How many times had I called Laila after she’d walked out on me that night?
It was too many to count.
How many voice messages had I left on her cell phone?
I had no idea.
In the wee hours of the morning I stood outside her hotel room door knocking, begging, pleading with her to open it so I could come in and make things right, but she hadn’t. And neither did she return any of my phone calls. On the plane ride home, she hadn’t given me a second look.
When everyone was sleeping, I slipped in the seat next to her and sat, looking on her face, fighting against the urge to touch her, and feeling a profound sadness rising from deep inside. I lifted my hand and pushed that strand of her from her eye, and then I ran my fingers across her soft cheek.
Suddenly, she twisted in the seat, denying me access. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.
I looked at her. If she’d opened her eyes, she would have seen the pain consuming me whole.
“Ma belle fille...”
She didn’t look at me.
My shoulders crumbled and I got up from the seat, returning to the front of the aircraft.
Now I was sitting in my office listening to Max go on about what an idiot I was. He was demanding answers from me, but I only had one and it wasn’t good enough for him.
He paced the floor in front of me creating an inroad in the expensive carpet of my office. He was rambling, something he did when he was drunk or upset. He had assumed the role of my father and I felt like a little boy being reprimanded for bullying kids on the playground at school. He thought I was listening to him, but my mind was otherwise preoccupied.
“What were you thinking?” he was shouting. “The intern, Dylan?”
“She’s more than an intern,” I responded rolling Chinese stress balls around in my hand. “She’s a viable employee option. You yourself were advocating on her behalf,” I reminded him.
“So that gives you license to screw her?”
I sighed and sat back in my chair to look at him. “I obtained that license when I fell in love with her.”
His face was beet red and his eyes were bulging from their sockets. “Oh, come on, Dylan. There is no way you love her. And there is no way you should be engaging her in anything other than a professional, business relationship. It’s not proper. It’s not right.”
“I’m a grown ass man, Max. I determine what’s proper and what’s right for me. And furthermore, I don’t appreciate you coming in here, scolding me like a little boy. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Your secretary and that secret affair you carried on for years. It’s no wonder you’re obliged to spend every Friday night with your wife. You’ve been groveling for a long time, haven’t you?
Max sighed. “You’re right,” he acknowledged, “I’ve made some mistakes, but that’s why I’m in a position to warn you and you should listen to me.”
I scoffed and hoisted myself out of my chair. The Chinese balls jingled as I threw them to the desk. “Laila Renaud is the best thing that has ever happened to me,” I said. “We connect on levels and in places that I have never experienced in my life and I am not willing to let that go because it’s improper.” I walked over to the window.
“Okay, Dylan, I hear you. Laila Renaud is an amazing woman. Brains and beauty. What man wouldn’t give someone like her a second look?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“And you love her,” he agreed. “So now what?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Where do you see this going?” he questioned me. “What’s your game plan? You love her and you’re going to run away with her; marry her, even. How do you plan on making that happen?”
“Oh, so now you’re my life coach...”
“I’m just wondering if you’ve stopped to think about the logistics. It’s not as simple as you think it is.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because the Board of Directors wouldn’t like that.” He shrugged. “What if they find out you’ve been bedding the intern? Surely it would taint your pragmatic image. People would wonder if you had the acumens to run the firm and start to think that your lack of moral judgment would impact your business logic. Listen to yourself, Dylan. You’re choosing pussy over profit and violating the cardinal rule of business.” He leaned forward, and his gaze intensified. “Do you think you’re the first man that has ever fallen in love with a subordinate? You’re not. It happens all the time. It happened with me, but at the end of the day there’s an image that you have to maintain – for the good of the company, Dylan.”
I turned away from him. He was right. I ran the firm and my name was on the door, but there was a Board behind me that, technically, had the ability to vote me out. We had set the company up that way just in case the person running the firm lost their mind and jeopardized the integrity of it. Besides, the entire conversation was moot. Laila didn’t want me. She hadn’t spoken to me since we’d returned to Miami. None of what he was saying mattered. None of what I felt mattered.
I turned around and peered out the window at the twinkling buildings ahead of me. It didn’t take long for my thoughts to fall on Laila.
“How am I supposed to stop loving her?” I whispered. My mouth bunched, and I squeezed my eyes together to make the stinging stop. “I knew my feelings were strong from the moment I laid eyes on her and I made the mistake of giving in to my emotions.” I shook my head trying to clear the fog from my mind. “What am I supposed to do, Max?”
Max walked over and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know the answer to that question,” he admitted. “What I do know is that the show must go on and you have to figure out how to make that happen.”
The show must go on...
“Right,” I agreed. The question now became, which show was more important to me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ryder
‘Deck of Cards’
A week later, Stefan Miller dropped another envelope on the metal bistro table and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs at the knee.
“Did you find anything?” I wanted to sneer at him as I said it, but I resisted. “You’ve been on the case for almost three weeks.”
“I know,” he said, “and I wish there was more I could offer you, especially since you’re so hell-bent on digging up dirt about the woman you say you’re in love with.” His words cut me, but I steadied my posture. “Unfortunately for you, there isn’t anything more.”
I cursed. “I can’t believe it,” I mumbled.
“Why?”
“Because I know what I saw,” I answered. “The way they were looking at each other, it was a clear sign. His face reminded me of my own.” My shoulders dropped as I looked at the envelope. “So what’s in this?” I was opening it.
“Pictures of her in Charles de Gaulle, entering her apartment, eating lunch alone in the office...”
“And what about Hamilton?”
“Pictures of him in Charles de Gaulle, entering his mansion... not eating lunch at all...” Stefan laughed and shook his head.
I pulled the contents from the envelope and frowned. Each picture corroborated Stefan’s story.
He reached across the table and clamped his hand on my shoulder. “Listen man, I like you. You’re driven and when you want something you go for it, no one can stop you.” He pointed in my face. “It’s a good quality. A little misguided, but you’re still young.” The smile wiped off his face and he leaned close. “My advice to you is to let this thing go,” he said.
“Let it go?”
“Drop your little investigation and try to make amends with your girlfriend. Buy her some flowers or some candy, take her out to dinner and apologize for being a jerk. You’ll get her back.”
Stefan extended his hand and my jaw clenched as I reached into my bag and pulled out an envelop
e containing twenty-five hundred dollars. I handed it to him and he peeked inside and put it inside his jacket pocket.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked, but I could tell it was only protocol. Stefan Miller hadn’t believed in my goals from the very beginning and I was beginning to wonder if I should have hired someone else.
“We’re all done here,” I said.
He nodded and rose from his chair. “In that case, I’m out.” He smirked and walked away.
THAT EVENING, I WAS sitting in my living room, staring at the pictures. I turned them on angles and observed them in close and far range. I looked at the pictures of Hamilton and Laila in Paris. The look on the CEO’s face taunted me. I recognized that expression. The glimmer in his eyes was jumping off the photo stock. The way he was looking at Laila reminded me of the way I looked at her. I could tell he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
But what man couldn’t?
My shoulders dropped.
Stefan was right. There was nothing to find, and I should have been happy about it.
I was happy.
I wanted to be with Laila, despite how sour things had turned and now my mind was focusing on how I might get her back. I had been nasty, underhanded. I had sacrificed her emotions because of jealousy and rage. Now, to know that my feelings were selfish and unjustified ripped me to shameful shreds. Only serious groveling would get her to acknowledge me. I had no idea where to begin, but perhaps a phone call was a good place to start.
I picked up the pictures and started to shove them into the envelope, but something caught my eyes. I squinted. In a picture of Laila entering her apartment, there was a figure in the distance heading for a vehicle parked across the street. I pulled the photograph closer to my face, but the image was grainy.
I jumped when my phone blared.
Katelyn.
I stared at the picture, my fingers pressing against the photo stock in frustration. My obsession with this theory I’d developed didn’t make sense. I needed to let it go.
I ripped my eyes from the photograph and answered. “Kate, hey... I was just thinking about you,” I lied.
“Were you really?” Kate purred on the other end of the phone. “Tell me, what were you thinking? Did it have anything to do with our super-spontaneous, super-sexy lunch date?” She giggled. “I can’t believe we did it in the office,” she said. “You were a hungry boy...”
“Yeah, it’s been a while.” I smiled and leaned back against the couch. “I admit, I’ve been thinking about that, but I’ve also been thinking about Hamilton and Laila, and how we thought something was going on between them,” I said. “Apparently, Laila is clean. She’s not sleeping her way up the ladder. She’s fighting fair and square.”
I sensed Katelyn’s frown. “How do you know?”
“I hired a private investigator,” I said softly. “He followed them around for a few weeks and came up with nothing.” My eyes drifted to the picture.
Katelyn fell silent on the other end. “Well, I guess we were wrong after all. Laila isn’t as conniving as we thought, huh?” She paused. “So...”
I didn’t say anything. I could already tell where she was going.
“So... what does that mean? For us?” she asked.
I bristled and rubbed the back of my neck. “You know the answer to that, Kate,” I muttered, engulfed with shame, but not enough to continue the charade. “It was fun, but I think we should slow things down a little.”
“Slow things down?”
“Yeah, I mean...” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m interested in someone else.”
“Laila Renaud...”
“And I’m trying to figure it all out. I hope you understand.”
“I see,” she said.
A thick silence erupted between us.
“I get it, Ryder. You’re in love with her. You have to follow your heart.”
“You’re a great girl Kate and I enjoyed our time together, it’s just that I have to give this a real effort. If I don’t – ” My speech was interrupted by an incoming call. I pulled the phone away from my face and my mouth dropped when I saw Laila’s number on the screen. My heart rate increased. “Kate, how about I call you back? There’s an important phone call coming through. I need to take it.”
“Of course,” she agreed, “take your time. And Ryder, I want you to know that I understand. And if it doesn’t work out with Laila, I’ll be here. Okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. The phone buzzed again. “I’ll call you later.”
I swiped my finger across the screen of my phone, ending one call and engaging the next.
“Hello.”
There was silence on the other end, but I could hear her breathing.
I swallowed. “Laila...”
“Ryder, I’m sorry. I know it’s late,” she was apologizing.
“Yeah, it is,” I agreed.
“I hope it’s okay...”
“Yeah, of course. I mean, I have a few minutes,” I leaned forward in the chair staring at the envelope on the coffee table. My pulse was racing; my chest was tight. The fact that she was on the other end of the phone made me dizzy. I pushed the envelope away from me, as guilt crept up on me.
“I guess that’s enough time,” she said. “It’s about work. First of all, thank you for... for your contribution to the France presentation. I never got to say thanks for what you did.”
My throat tightened. “Yeah, no problem,” I said. “I mean, I know that I came off a little harsh –”
“A little?”
“And I apologize if I offended or upset you.”
Laila inhaled but didn’t say anything in response to my statement. “Anyway, we need to start looking at additional markets. As you’re aware, new potential clients are coming in and we need to talk about them. Mr. Hamilton wants us to meet.”
“You couldn’t wait until tomorrow to talk to me about this?”
“Trust me, if I could have put it off until eternity, I would have.”
“Eternity,” I scoffed. “It feels like it’s been eternity since we last communicated.”
“And you’re suggesting that it’s my fault?” she demanded.
“The blame belongs to both of us,” I snapped back.
“I’m not taking responsibility for your bad behavior, Ryder. You just admitted that you’ve been wrong.”
I sighed, grabbing my head. “Lai, do we have to argue?” I asked. “Like, all the time? Can we not just be on the phone and have a civil conversation?”
Silence.
“I know you’re pissed as hell with me. I know we’re on opposite pages right now...”
“Opposite pages?” she grunted. “We’re not even in the same book, Ryder.”
I didn’t say anything.
Laila sighed. “Fine, you’re right. I’m tired of arguing. It’s getting us nowhere.”
“Let’s not argue. Okay?”
She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her emotion coming through the phone. “What do you need?” I asked.
“I need to see you,” she mumbled. Then she laughed. Tears were in her voice. “I can’t believe I actually said that,” she said. “You know what? Forget it. Let’s just meet tomorrow in the office.”
“Laila, wait.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes together. The woman was killing me. She was playing with me like a deck of cards in a casino on the Vegas Strip. “If you want to see me, then I want to see you.”
“Ryder, you don’t have to do that,” she insisted. “I could have searched for you at work. I’ve been back in the office for three weeks. I’m the one who chose to leave this conversation until the last possible minute. I don’t expect you to go out of your way for me.”
I groaned, frustrated that she didn’t understand the magnitude of my feelings for her. “That’s what you don’t understand. I would absolutely go out of my way for you.” I let it sink in. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you from the very be
ginning.”
“Ryder, please,” she begged. “We’ve been through way too much to have this kind of a conversation.”
I exhaled. “Maybe you’re right,” I acknowledged. “And like you said, things are complicated now.” Resentment welled up on the inside. I tried to force it back down.
“You said we shouldn’t argue,” she muttered.
“Fair enough,” I agreed, “so are you coming to me or do you want me to come to you?”
“A neutral place.”
I smiled. That statement said she didn’t trust herself to be alone with me; which meant there was still something there. Hope and satisfaction showered me. “Whatever you want,” I assured her. “I can meet you at the bistro across from Hamilton Associates.”
She paused. “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I freshen up.”
The call ended, and I opened the envelope and looked at the photographs again, but then I slid them back inside. This was the chance I’d been hoping for, I thought. This was the moment Miller had told me would come. This was my opportunity to get her back. With a burst of energy, I hopped off the couch and stepped into my sneakers, heading out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Laila
‘Second Place’
I didn’t know why I’d called Ryder. I shouldn’t have. It was a set up for something I didn’t need to happen and on top of that, I was on the rebound; I was vulnerable and reeling from the heated exchange I’d shared with Dylan before we left Paris. I had lied to Ryder about having spoken to Dylan. The truth was that I avoided the 34th floor at all costs. I’d spent the last few weeks since we’d returned from France refereeing Dylan’s calls, trying to tame the searing desire that was incinerating me from the inside out. He wouldn’t call me every day, but I certainly knew the days he would.
Mondays were busy and lucid. On Monday, he would’ve turned over a new leaf. He would’ve promised himself that it was another week and things were going to be different. His to-do list was stacked high and he didn’t have time to pursue me, especially because I wasn’t pursuing him. It was totally out of his character, he’d tell himself, and he didn’t have time to exert the effort. I was an intern, after all, and if I couldn’t understand the rationale behind his decision that was my problem, not his.
Oui: A BWWM Romance (The French Connection Book 1) Page 15
