I finally ran out of minutes at three in the morning.
This was getting ridiculous.
At least this time when I went to sleep I didn't lay awake for hours thinking about him. Because I was so exhausted, I fell asleep quickly.
The next morning, I was red-eyed and coffee-fueled. My hair looked horrible, so I'd quickly braided it to keep it out of my face. I wore a dark blue dress to work because I hadn't had time to do laundry last weekend.
After finishing a quick lunch at my desk, I was struggling with a fuzzy brain and a whole lot of work to wade through. Sighing and complaining under my breath, I had my arms full of reports and was on my way to the copy machine when, in a rush, I almost collided with two men approaching from the opposite direction. Just my luck, it happened to be my boss and his boss. Half the files slipped out of my hold, and I fought to recover them before they went spilling all over the floor.
"Whoa--need a hand?" Adam said, reaching out to steady the top of the files. Jordan made no such move to help me. My gaze briefly touched his before jerking away. I felt a punch of something in my chest, a blow, like I'd been hit.
"Sorry, guys. I was in a bit of a hurry I, um, seem to be overloaded today."
Jordan raised a brow but said nothing.
Adam threw him a glance. "Cracking the whip again?"
"Oh, it's just me," I intervened before Jordan could reply. "Moving kind of slow today. Very little sleep last night." Because of your damn addictive game, I almost added.
I had a level five character in Dragon Epoch who was now this close to level six. So close I could smell it. One, maybe two more quests and he'd be at his next level. Strangely enough, as I thought about it, I was more and more excited to get back into the game. No wonder players often referred to the game as Dragon Addiction.
"Sorry you're so tired," Adam said with a small smile. "Maybe you could call on your woodland creatures for help."
I frowned as I got a better grip on my folders, not missing when Jordan and Adam exchanged a look before I turned to leave. They seemed to be sharing some private joke at my expense. My cheeks flamed and I swallowed the irritation, pushing past them to the copy room. Jordan had not addressed or even looked at me directly.
He had barely spoken to me all day, telling me tersely to get my task list from Susan. He was too busy, apparently.
When I got back to my desk, Susan hung up her phone and pulled her chair over to my desk to sit beside me.
"You look as bad as I feel today," she said. Today, oversized golden autumn leaves bobbed from her earlobes with every movement of her head.
"Given that you are pregnant and I'm not, that says a lot. I'm just tired."
"I like your hair like that...all braided up. And that dress...you look like an innocent forest maiden."
I frowned. "What do you need me to do?"
A weak smile touched her lips. "I'm being rather transparent, I guess. I have a huge favor to ask you."
I braced myself, envisioning some monstrous task I had no desire whatsoever to do. Something that might prevent me from working on my own project.
"Uh, well. Have you ever been to Vancouver?"
"In Canada?" My stomach dropped and my eyes flew to the closed door of Jordan's office. He had that TED talk in two weeks. TED stood for Technology, Entertainment and Design. It was a prestigious global conference that served as a gathering of great minds. That Jordan had been invited to present at TED, a CFO of his young age, was a feather in his cap and also gave the company big bragging rights.
The main TED conference took place in Vancouver, British Columbia. Sudden realization dawned. Go to Vancouver with Jordan the way things were between us now? Uh, no. No way. I was supposed to keep my distance. I shook my head.
"Please, April. You're my only hope."
"Uh, why?"
Susan rubbed her stomach, though she was hardly showing. "I had a miscarriage last year. We've been trying for about ten months now, and though the doctor says there's no reason to believe I'm at risk again...I just can't stand the thought of getting on an airplane, traveling long hours, working with jet lag--"
"It's the same time zone as us."
Susan pleaded with her eyes.
I sighed. "What would I have to do?"
"You're there as his assistant. Run his schedule. Facilitate his meetings, be the go-between for him and the conference coordinators. Aid him with whatever he needs."
I looked away, a blush staining my cheeks, unwilling to go there in my mind. But apparently, I already had, given that my entire body was heating at the thought of assisting with all of his needs--and vice-versa.
"What do you say?"
I shook my head. "I highly doubt he'd go for it, Susan. I'm just an intern, and he thinks I'm a fuck-up."
She looked at me like I'd told her that clouds are made out of marshmallows and the moon of green cheese. "In what universe has he ever said that? I only hear good stuff from him about you. He is typically skimpy on praise, mind you, so I can see why you'd think he hasn't noticed. But he has."
I swallowed a lump in my throat. "I don't think he wants me going to Vancouver with him."
"I asked him and he said if I could get you to agree to do it, he'd let me off the hook. Please, April. For my baby?" She rubbed her stomach again. She didn't even have a goddamn baby bump and already she was exploiting the kid for her own gain.
I let out a long sigh and looked away. "How long is it?"
"Four days. And you get a room in the penthouse suite at the Fairmont Pacific Rim. It's an amazing hotel. I have the website--"
I held up a hand, waving it, mildly uncomfortable and simultaneously aflame at the thought of sharing a suite--no matter how big--with Jordan for four days.
I wanted to say no. Or rather, I wanted to want to say no. But I didn't really want to say no. Because even though he'd snapped at me and was completely unpredictable, I still thought about him all the time. And it was driving me crazy. I could not have a crush on my boss. I could never be one of those women who slept with their boss!
I would never, ever be.
***
Days passed. Things were quiet. Sid continued with her investigation, not having reached anything conclusive when she'd examined my phone. Jordan and I studiously avoided each other, only minimally discussing the plans to go to Vancouver. Every time I had a question, he quickly directed me to Susan without even meeting my gaze.
It stung, but it was also a relief. Things may have continued that way had it not been for that fateful morning--less than a day before we were to depart for Vancouver.
Then, everything changed.
Since it was a Monday, the morning arrived with its usual brand of grossness. Again, I'd been up too late playing on the game. I swore the typical amount before getting enough coffee in me for my brain to function as I got ready for work.
I fixed my hair and makeup as usual, choosing to put it up in a messy bun and letting dark tendrils of hair hang around my face. I chose eyeliner to match my blue eyes, trying not to question myself too closely as to why I was paying special attention to my looks for work.
In my head, I may have wanted to avoid him, but deep down--and in other places--I was desperate for him to notice me again.
It was stupid, since he'd probably hooked up with some hot model in the meantime and I was likely nothing in comparison. I swallowed the lump that rose at that thought and finished my preparations.
I arrived at the office a few minutes late with Jordan's extra-hot lava flow in my gloved hand. I made sure to change out of my sneakers as quickly as I could before sweeping into his office. He'd left the door ajar, a signal that he preferred people to just come in. When it was closed, it was best to knock or quietly tiptoe away. I usually chose to do the latter when I could get away with it.
He didn't even look up from his computer screen when I set the coffee down. "You're late," he grunted.
"There was a line at Starbucks. I'm--" The apology hung
from my lips, half spoken, when he looked up, spearing me with those lovely green-brown eyes.
"I need today's financial reports."
I froze. "Uh. Sure. Gimme a few."
"You don't have a few. You spent those 'few' in line at the coffee shop."
I opened my mouth, feeling heat flush to my face, and quickly snapped it closed again. Who the hell had peed in his Cheerios today?
It was like the last few weeks had never happened. His eyes were on my face and they had a challenge in them. He seemed to be daring me to react, with an expectant curl at the end of his lip.
I swallowed. "Yes, sir."
Returning to my desk, I muttered under my breath everything I wished I could say to him. I don't care if you have gorgeous abs, Mr. Fawkes, or an amazing set of shoulders or a handsome face or that you kiss like a fucking Greek god. Or that you make me want to call you Mr. Fox instead of Mr. Fawkes. I don't care.
You're still a colossal asshole.
Someone loudly--and rudely--cleared his or her throat, and I looked up to find Charles standing at my desk. I had no idea how long he'd be standing there.
All I knew was that I didn't have time for his condescending ass. "Sorry. I've already been to Starbucks and now the boss is on the warpath."
Charles smirked and ran his eyes down me again. I pretended not to notice. He'd become a little too obvious with his ogling, and his weird way of flirting was obnoxious. Hadn't he sat through that stupid-ass sexual harassment training like the rest of us? What made him the special snowflake?
"So, how about lunch again today?"
I pulled the stack of papers out of the printer and stood. Instead of telling him the truth--that I wasn't interested--I made up a wimpy excuse instead. "Uh, I have plans to eat...with the other interns in marketing."
"Oh...okay. Well, if you need anything, let me know."
Sure thing, I mentally sneered. Your smug ass will be the first one I think of when I'm in a pinch!
I grinned wide. "Thank you. That's very nice." As usual, April the coward never said what was really on her mind. She just grinned and bore it.
I held my breath when I walked back into the lair of the Beast. He glanced up at me again, this time giving me a longer look, as if he noticed my extra efforts at prettying myself--not for him, of course. I set the reports down on his desk. "Here you go. All in order, NYSE on top."
"As it should be."
I turned at the same time he picked up his coffee to make room for his reports, which he usually spread out across the desktop so he could cross-reference them quickly. As if in slow motion, I watched as the top of the cup popped off when he grabbed it and the coffee sprayed all over the desk--and him.
I froze, putting my hand to my mouth, and watched, eyes wide with horror, as coffee stains bloomed on his shirt and pants.
"Motherfucker!" he shouted, shooting out of his chair.
"Oh crap!" I said at the same time. "Let me get some towels." I bee-lined it around his desk into his private bathroom and grabbed a stack of clean hand towels from the cabinet. Rushing back into the office, I saw that he'd already peeled off his dress shirt and was now yanking off his undershirt.
Was I was about to get yet another glimpse of that magnificent chest? Someone up there was getting back at me for something bad I'd done.
I handed him a towel, which he proceeded to dab over his moist, shiny skin. "You aren't burned? With the white-hot temperature you want that coffee, I'm surprised you aren't blistering by now."
He was red in spots, but it appeared as if he'd pulled off his shirt in time.
He shook his head. "How the hell did this happen? Was that lid on properly?"
I paused from where I was mopping up spilled coffee from the desktop. Was he going to pin the blame on me?
"The top was secure when I gave it to you," I said in an even, firm voice. I picked up each paper and wiped droplets of coffee off before setting it back down.
"Well, obviously it wasn't on there properly because how else would it just pop off like that? I didn't pull it off and pop it back on. Why would I?"
"I don't know. Maybe you were checking to see if I'd screwed up the order so you could yell at me about it? Or perhaps you had your thermometer out ready to check if it was ten degrees short of screaming molten fusion!"
He raised his brows at me, clearly surprised that I'd snapped back at him. Up until this moment, I'd quietly taken every bit of shit he'd dished out at me. But not anymore. I'd had enough!
I folded my arms across my chest, ready for his onslaught...but it didn't come. I tried to force my eyes away from his chest, his bulging arm muscles, that sexy-as-hell tattoo. God, he was just too yummy to be real. Was it a requirement to have hot male-model looks in order to run this damn company? And be filthy rich and brilliantly intelligent on top of it?
Oh, and to be so perfect that he was arrogantly and insufferably full of himself. I reminded myself not to forget that.
Jordan was talking and I was only half paying attention, watching as he dabbed at his chest with the soft, white towel. "--need you to grab me a new shirt, undershirt and suit. I've got a lunch meeting at noon."
I shook my head. "Um...what?"
He snapped his fingers two inches from my face and I blinked. "Earth to Weiss...there's no intelligent life down here...beam me up!"
I clenched my teeth and glared at him. Fuck you, my brain wanted to scream.
"I need you to swing by my house and grab me new clothes."
"Uh. Are you sure you don't just want to drive home and change?"
"I'm absolutely sure, since I have a phone call in half an hour with an underwriter and another with the IPO attorney after that. And I have that important lunch meeting that I can't show up to with coffee all over myself. So I need you to take my keys, go into my closet and grab a new shirt, tie and suit. You remember where my room is?"
"Uh, sure." I gulped, remembering the last time I'd been in his room--and had been caught snooping by him. I shoved that thought aside in my annoyance.
He hurriedly scrawled down some numbers and gave me instructions for how to disarm the alarm. I took his keys and marched toward the door, barely managing to keep the epithets unspoken.
"Oh, and Weiss--" he called out, catching me right before I exited. I spun around and waited for the other shoe to drop. "Get me another cup of coffee on the way in, too."
I couldn't trust myself to reply, so I clenched my fists at my side and turned, furious that he'd blamed me for this.
Reminding myself to take deep breaths and push fantasies of violent murder out of my mind, I raced out of the building and through the parking lot to my car.
I floored it all the way to his house, risking traffic violations to get there as quickly as I could. It felt weird letting myself into his place. However, being there brought to mind that night I'd been held captive a few weeks before. That night he'd kissed me--and more--on his couch...
Ignoring the lightning strikes of fresh pleasure at those remembered touches, I swallowed and went about my business. I bolted up the stairs, out of breath by the time I got to his room. In a panic, I went to his closet, threw open the doors and quickly selected a white shirt--that part was easy. Then I located the hangers that held ties, pulling them off the rack and laying them carefully on the bed. I had to think this through clearly and not grab just any tie, or he'd rip me a new asshole. Should I get a light brown one or a green one to match the color of his eyes? Were they actually green or brown? Or maybe brown with green and gold flecks. Or green with brown flecks.
Sometimes when I looked at them, they looked like two miniature globes as seen from space--all blue and green and brown... They were as beautiful as the rest of him.
I shook my head--earth to Weiss, indeed--deciding instead to match the tie with the suit. Turning back to the closet, I took in the line-up: some dark brown, some lighter, some in practically every shade of gray. There were even some black ones, which I judged would be too s
evere with his coloring. His hair was too light a shade of brown to look good with a black suit.
I pondered over it far too long, imagining him carrying on that phone conference in his skivvies, checking his watch and fuming.
I sifted through his entire wardrobe, even the stuff it was clear he hadn't worn in a while. I was about to select a nice coffee-brown suit, which would look great with a dark red tie, when my hand landed on some shiny spandex material.
I jerked back in surprise. Did he have a Superman suit in there or something? Or maybe some crazy role-playing outfit for when he had his models over for orgies. I had to admit that curiosity got the best of me, so I yanked the thing out by the hanger to look it over.
And promptly dropped it on the floor in shock. I'd seen that costume before. Stretched across the broad shoulders and solid form of Falco the Bounty Hunter.
What. The. Fuck?
I frantically pushed clothes aside in the closet to get a look at what was on the shelves, and there it was--shoved in the corner. Falco's helmet. The infamous helmet.
Stumbling, I fell back against the bed, not even caring that I was now wrinkling his clothes. That costume was not merchandised. It wasn't something you could go down to the corner drugstore to buy for Halloween or click a button to order off Amazon. It was custom made specifically for cosplay. And I'd only seen one Falco at Comic-Con. My Falco.
Jordan had attended Comic-Con, too. I'd seen him often enough at the bar of the hotel we'd stayed at with a swarm of women around him, living it up like a playboy. But the day of the costume party, I had no idea what he'd worn.
Apparently, it was a Falco costume.
But no. This must have been an old costume, probably from the year before or from the Draco company convention the previous November? He'd loaned it out to a friend, surely. The friend who I'd...
But if that were the case, if Jordan had ever been seen in the Falco costume, then people would know that he was the owner of the now infamous ensemble as seen in the unintentional geek porn video.
My head hurt and throbbed with the possibilities.
Because the only one that made sense was that Jordan had worn the costume to Comic-Con for the first and only time, and had done so completely unbeknownst to any other employees there. It was common--even famous actors and other geek celebrities got away with wandering through Comic-Con unrecognizable beneath a mask. Or helmet.
For the Win Page 17
