I sat up straighter. Intrigued.
“But that’s not fair. I’m sure she’d want to come if she were given the opportunity.” Donovan wouldn’t stop looking at me. It was bait.
So I took it. “Of course. What’s the celebration?”
“Weston’s engagement.”
Chapter 10
For several uncomfortable seconds, everything stood completely still. All eyes were on me.
“Congratulations,” I said finally, breaking the hush. My voice sounded slightly higher than usual, but other than that, I was pretty sure I pulled off calm and reserved.
Inside, however, I was dying. Weston was engaged? What the ever-living fuck? Obviously, he was an asshole. And Donovan was even worse, trying to needle me about it, and no way was I letting him get to me.
“Donovan, you shithead,” Weston snapped under his breath.
“Oh. She didn’t know,” Donovan said in a way that made me suspect he knew very well I hadn’t known all along. Shithead was right. Add goddamn motherfucker to the list.
“No, I didn’t know. But congratulations seem to be in order all the same.” With a tight smile, I scooted over casually so that Weston’s hand fell off my shoulder. This was fine. Totally fine. Just had to keep breathing.
Weston looked from me to his friend. “I told you I hadn’t told her.”
Donovan waved him off. “That was two weeks ago. I assumed you would have told her by now. How could you bring her here without fully explaining the circumstances? That doesn’t seem very fair to Sabrina now, does it?”
“Hey. I’m right here.”
Both men turned toward me at once.
“I should have told you,” Weston said at the same time Donovan said, “He should have told you.”
“Told me that you were engaged? You’re telling me now. I can’t wait to hear all about her, Weston.” I stood up. “I’m just going to refill my drink.”
“It’s not how it seems.” Weston ran after me, fumbling to help me with the scotch.
“It’s really not. Just wait until he explains.” Donovan had moved his ankle to his knee, the relaxed position suggesting he was enjoying this far more than he should.
I tried to ignore him—as if that were possible—and trained my focus on Weston, keeping my voice as even as I could. “How is there any way other than what it seems? You didn’t even have a girlfriend when…” I trailed off, glancing back at Donovan. Even if he knew that I’d spent a weekend in his partner’s bed, it felt somehow wrong to acknowledge it in front of him.
Anyway, I didn’t need to. “Was that not true?”
“It was true,” Weston insisted. “I still don’t have a girlfriend.”
“No, you have a fiancée,” I said.
“A fake fiancée,” he corrected.
“A fake fiancée? Right.”
Donovan chuckled behind us. “This just gets better and better.”
I shot him a nasty glare, but his smile made things worse. It poked at me like a boy with a stick torturing a trapped animal. Jesus, why did he have to be here?
I took a large swallow of my scotch.
Weston put his hands on my upper arms. “Let me explain.”
“Don’t.” I jerked away, louder than I meant to. Taking a breath, I tried again. “Don’t touch me. Please.”
He dropped his hands, then, seeming not to know what to do with them, stuck them in his pockets.
Again, I glanced toward Donovan. Was this why he’d come here today? To drop this bomb? To play with me now in the same ways he had in the past? To see me humiliated and disgraced?
Well, I refused to let him see me like that. I lifted my chin. I was resolute. He wouldn’t see me down.
He met my stare and held it. Whatever he saw—my determination, maybe—caused his expression to sober.
“I should really let you two work this out on your own,” he said, setting his empty glass on the table next to him and standing.
“Thank you,” Weston said.
“Though I won’t say I’m not tempted to turn on the security feed and listen in.”
“Fuck you.”
“Kidding.” Donovan buttoned his jacket. “Leaving,” he called over his shoulder as he brushed past me, shocking me with a jolt of electricity that made me shiver.
I heard him leaving. Heard him open the doors. Dread sank inside me like a lead ball. It was strange and sudden and unexplainable. I couldn’t attach it to current circumstances or to anything at all except the fact that the ghost of my darkest thoughts was slipping out of my realm.
I spun around.
“Donovan!” I called out before I could stop myself.
He halted halfway out the door and looked toward me, but I clammed up. I had no idea what else to say to him. I didn’t want him to stay necessarily; I just didn’t want him to go. Not now. Not so soon. Not when there was still everything left unsaid between us.
Weston watched us curiously, his eyes darting from me to Donovan then back to me.
It was Donovan who filled the silence. “You were right, Weston,” he said, his gaze looking nowhere but my face. “She has grown up.” Then he was gone.
Had I? Grown up? I didn’t feel like it. I felt like I was still seventeen—naïve, overwhelmed, and pulled apart by someone I’d escaped years ago. Physically escaped, anyway. But here, in the present, in the flesh, he was still the magnet he’d always been, his tug on me as strong as ever.
And Weston, the man I’d thought could protect me from my sick attractions, was engaged?
“Okay,” I said, turning back from the doors that Donovan had closed behind him. I folded my arms across my chest and gave Weston the sternest glare I owned. “You better start fucking explaining.”
Weston took a deep breath in. “It’s going to sound like a story.”
“As all stories do.”
“But it’s not. I’m not making it up. You have to believe me.”
With Donovan out of the room, I no longer felt the need to pretend to tolerate the bullshit. “I can’t believe you if you don’t tell me.”
“Right, right.” He ran both his hands through his hair, leaving a mess that somehow made him look hotter.
This was the first time I’d looked at him since he’d walked in, actually. Really looked at him, anyway. He was wearing a navy blue suit that accentuated his eyes. His face was smooth, even this late, and I wondered if he’d shaved midday. He was devastatingly handsome. So easy to look at.
Funny how I’d forgotten when Donovan was in the room.
But I didn’t want to think about him. “Well?”
“Do you know who Elizabeth Dyson is?” Weston said, surprising me with his turn of conversation.
I decided to go with it. “The daughter of the media mogul?”
“Dell Dyson. That’s right.” Weston walked over to the counter and set his mostly finished drink down. “While it’s not their main focus, Dyson Media has an advertising subsidiary that is especially large in the European market.”
“I didn’t realize that.”
“They’re our biggest competitor overseas.”
It was both embarrassing and irritating that I didn’t know this. But I belonged here, dammit. I wasn’t letting this stupid little fact make me feel out of place.
I racked my brain to try to think of anything else I remembered about Dell Dyson or his company, hoping to prove myself. “Didn’t he die recently?”
Weston nodded, slowly returning to me. “Last year. Since his death—before it even—we’ve been looking to buy out the advertising portion of his company. Dell had shown some interest, but now that he’s dead, we have to purchase through Elizabeth.”
“Let me guess. She’s not interested.”
“No, she is.”
He was almost to me and yet not any closer to an explanation. “I’m not seeing how this is—”
“I’m getting there.” He stopped, two feet away from me, and stuck his hands in his pockets. “The problem
is that Elizabeth is twenty-five. Her inheritance doesn’t give her full ownership of the company until she turns twenty-nine. Or until she marries.”
“Or until she marries,” I echoed slowly, everything becoming blindingly clear. “I see.” I sank down onto the couch. “How archaic.”
“Elizabeth was as desperate to get control of the company as we were to buy her out,” he continued. “It was a win-win situation.”
“So. You’re engaged.”
“I’m engaged.”
I tested the taste of the words, the sound of them, using them to poke at my emotions. How did I feel about this? Definitely disappointed. It was a change in plans, and while I wasn’t a rigid person, I’d come to New York under one pretense and this was going to take some adjusting.
Weston seemed to sense this, and he gave me a minute before going on.
“The wedding is in two and a half months,” he said eventually. “After we’ve been married a month or so, we’ll get an annulment, we’ll buy the advertising subsidiary, and Reach, Inc. will automatically move up a couple ranks in terms of competitive power. We’re still a young company. This kind of merger is important for us.”
I leaned back into the seat and sighed. It wasn’t the kind of business move that I’d necessarily pursue, but I wasn’t an aggressive player. Which was why I preferred marketing to sales and operations. It didn’t mean I didn’t recognize the benefit of a merger such as the one Weston was proposing.
“I get it. I do.” I sprung up from my seat. “But why did it have to be you? Couldn’t it be someone else? Didn’t she have a boyfriend or someone else she could marry to get her fortune?” Why did she have to take my boyfriend?
Not that Weston was my boyfriend. Just.
I was bitter. I couldn’t help it.
“No boyfriends. The girl’s a real piece of work. I don’t think she even has friends. She’s kind of…” He rubbed his forehead, seeming to search for the word he was looking for. “A spoiled brat.”
Somehow I had a feeling that wasn’t what he’d first intended to say. “That sounds fun. Are you sleeping with her?”
His eyes widened only slightly. “No, I’m not.”
“I’m sorry.” I hung my head, ashamed of the question. “That wasn’t any of my business.”
“No. It’s fair.”
Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I cared. So what if Weston was sleeping with her? The only reason it bothered me was because it meant he wasn’t available to be my armor. I needed a relationship with him so I could stay safe from my thoughts and my feelings. Especially now.
I paced along the window. “If this is all just to get her inheritance, why don’t you go to the courthouse? Why an engagement? Why a party?”
“Believe it or not, her inheritance forbids elopement. And Elizabeth has a cousin on the board of Dyson Media who is ready to contest anything to stop her from getting control of the company before her twenty-ninth birthday. So. We have to make it real.”
His tone of voice said the situation was making him miserable. I threw him a bone. “That sounds terrible.”
“It is. Thank you!”
“But not too terrible.” I faced him, sternly. “You still chose this. I’m guessing you weren’t forced into this. I don’t feel too bad for you, Weston.”
“You’re right. And I accept my fate.”
I wanted to keep scolding him, but it was hard when he was taking his blows so willingly. And he was my boss. My new boss. There was probably a line that I didn’t want to cross. Somewhere. Hell if I knew where it was at this point.
I pivoted and walked along the window, and the view made me think of Donovan. “What did…everyone else think of this plan?” Why it mattered, I didn’t know.
“Who? You mean Donovan and Nate? Those guys?” He waited until I nodded. “It was Donovan’s idea. Everyone else thought it was awesome, though I think they’re taking bets on how long I can last without getting laid.”
I snapped my head toward him. “You’re not—? With anyone?”
“What did you say about a true professional always being on show?”
Weston King not getting laid was huge news. That man had a voracious sexual appetite. I knew from experience.
And now he looked truly miserable. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
I leaned my back against the glass. “How many people know about this?”
“Just the guys. Elizabeth, of course. And, now, you.” He said you preciously, tenderly, and I realized how much trust it took for him to let me in on his secret.
“Well. Thank you for telling me.”
“I had to. I couldn’t let you think I wasn’t interested anymore.” He took a few steps, and then he was right in front of me. Carefully, he ran a hand along my upper arm. “I should have told you before you got here, but I was afraid you wouldn’t have come.”
His touch felt wrong, his fingers cold on my skin, but I didn’t pull away. “I didn’t take this job because I thought something was going to happen between us, Weston. I did wonder where things would go, but it wasn’t a condition of my acceptance.”
“Good. I’m glad about that.” He used his other hand to tip my chin up to look him in the eyes. “Does that mean in the future, when I’m single again, there might be a chance?”
I did the mental math. He’d said two and a half months until the wedding, another month or so before he was free. “I can’t wait for you. Are you asking me to wait for you?”
“No. That’s not fair. I’m just saying that if you’re still available…”
“Then we’ll see what happens, I guess.” With my track record, I’d still be single in five months. Then, we’d see. “Meanwhile, you are engaged. Whether it’s real or not, and I can’t be doing…this.”
“Doing what?”
I looked down at his hands that were now both on my shoulders. “This. Letting you touch me. You have to stop.”
“I know.” He dropped his hands to his sides and took a step back. “I’m sorry, Sabrina. About all of this. But I am glad you’re here.”
It sounded believable enough, but the offer paid so well, and he’d gone to a lot of trouble to bring me to New York. Had it really just been to give me a job?
I cocked my head. “Tell me something—when did you decide to hire me? What was the timeline of all of this?”
He leaned a shoulder against the glass. “I started working on hiring you the minute you left town. I didn’t know what might happen between us, but I knew you belonged here. It seemed like fate that we were losing our director of marketing anyway. There was just a delay with his transfer. Then all of this Dyson bullshit delayed things further.”
So Weston had already planned to hire me before he decided to marry someone else. At Donovan’s suggestion. Had Donovan known Weston wanted to hire me?
It was stupid to wonder if there was a connection between the two, but still I had to know. “When did you tell Donovan you wanted to hire me?”
My skin began to tingle before he even answered.
“I called him the minute you walked out my door.”
I was glad I still had some scotch in my glass. I finished it off in one gulp. But the sweet burn couldn’t consume the seemingly obvious truth—that even though it had been Weston who got me here, it had been Donovan who had made sure I’d been single when I arrived.
Chapter 11
Roxie grabbed two flutes of champagne off a tray as it passed by and handed me one. “You’ve had a lot thrown at you this week. It’s a shame you have to be here on a weekend night.”
Since my initial meeting at Reach on Tuesday, I’d spent the rest of the week coordinating with HR, getting acquainted with the corporation’s operations, and setting up my office. I’d barely seen Weston. I hadn’t seen Donovan at all.
Now I was dressed to the nines in a long green satin slip dress that clung to every curve of my body, my hair pinned loosely at my nape, hiding in a corner at The Sky Launch so I could attend Westo
n’s engagement party. Not at all how I’d expected to spend my first Saturday in New York.
“It’s not that bad,” I said, lying through my teeth. The party, Weston had told me, had been pulled together without much notice, yet there still seemed to be four to five hundred people spread across the dance floor of the rented nightclub. I supposed that’s what it was like to be part of the rich and elite—popularity was part of the package.
Honestly, there were so many guests my attendance would probably have gone unnoticed. I wasn’t sure why I’d come.
Yes, I was.
Because Donovan would notice if I didn’t come, and I didn’t want him thinking I was avoiding the event. I didn’t want him to assume Weston’s upcoming wedding meant something to me, that I was hurt or nursing wounds. I wasn’t. I was there to prove a point, and I didn’t plan on leaving until I did.
Not that Donovan had bothered to show up.
Maybe the whole thing was a waste of time after all.
I took a swallow from my champagne glass and tried not to think about how the green of my dress perfectly matched the green of his eyes.
“Are you ready for Monday?” Roxie asked.
“I think so.” I’d been poring over the project files in all my spare time at home so I’d be prepared, barely sleeping. The movers had unpacked most of my belongings, but I hadn’t touched any of the personal items that I’d asked them to leave for me. “I’ve made sure I’m up to date on everything the team is working on.”
“Be careful you don’t burn out before you even start,” Roxie warned in her brusque Eastern European way.
“I won’t. Mom.” I was teasing, but I hoped she could tell I appreciated it. Not only because she was one of the only people I knew in the city, but also because it had been so long since I’d had anyone mother me. It was a nice change after all the years of raising my little sister.
She smiled and glanced over at her husband who was waiting a few feet away. After downing the rest of her drink in three long gulps, she said, “Frank hate these things. I would stay longer if he didn’t nag me to go. You be okay?” She seemed genuinely concerned about leaving me alone.
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