The Proposal

by R. R. Banks

  "I'd like that," I said. "Thank you."

  "Perfect. I'll swing by to get you around 12:30."

  "I'll see you then."

  Blake walked away and a woman I had met briefly earlier stopped by to drop off a folder at my desk. I smiled to myself as I picked it up and leafed through the contents. I made it to work on time. My coworkers seemed nice. I had actual work to do. And a man wanted to go out on a lunch date with me.

  I considered that a pretty good start to my day.

  Chapter Four

  Gabriel

  One of the perks of being the boss is that you can show up three hours late and don't have to answer or make excuses to anyone. As I stepped out of my private elevator at the end of the hallway, I realized that being late to work probably wasn’t the best way to show that I was serious about the company, but my mind was somewhere else this morning. Specifically, the maternity ward of the nearest hospital. I was in shock by my father's demands and still trying to get myself mentally to a place where I could see myself fulfilling his requirements. I have never seen myself as a family man. That was never something that I saw in my future. Despite what I had said to my father, I had never really put much thought into the idea of carrying on the family legacy. I had been lectured about fulfilling my obligations to the family my whole life, but it had never been something I concerned myself with or actually thought about doing. I always took it for granted that the company would come to me when my father retired, and that I would have plenty of time to figure out what to do with it by the end of my career.

  That, of course, was no longer an option. Because of my father’s demands, I was stuck at a fork in the road. I had less than a year to decide if I was going to continue with the lifestyle I currently led and not bother to produce an heir, meaning that I would give up my rights to the company, or if I was going to fall into line, produce a child, and take what is rightfully mine.

  In the two days since I had talked to my father, I tried to brainstorm every possible solution and go through a mental checklist of the women I knew. Maybe I had already met a woman who I could envision as the mother of my child. I thought of those who I had spent a night or two in bed with, as well as those I maintained as my go-to dates. I thought of the girls I barely knew and those few who were friends and even eligible childhood friends. After a while, they all blended together into an endless stream of women. By Sunday night, I had started to question if they were all the same woman, cleverly disguised. I was losing it.

  I finally made it to my office door and was inputting my security code into the keypad when I noticed someone in the corner of my eye. She was sitting at my executive assistant's desk, but it definitely wasn't Edna. I was confused momentarily, but then remembered that Friday had been Edna's last day. I hated to see her go. She was like a member of my family. She had been with the company since before I even was born. But I was happy for her. If there was ever anyone who deserved to enjoy retirement, it was her. She had always gone above and beyond, even when that meant reigning me and my antics in, and I hoped that she was going to have plenty of rest and relaxation ahead of her. The bonus I gave her should certainly help.

  No one knew how to fulfill the responsibilities of being my assistant the way that Edna did. Honestly, I don’t even know what exactly she did for me, and the company, on a daily basis. That was why I asked her to find her own replacement. I figured that the chances of finding someone who would actually be able to fill her role were slim, but that Edna was the best bet to find the person who would come the closest. I looked at the new executive assistant for a second, admiring the curves of her body and the way her hair framed her face as she arranged the items on her desk, briefly considered them, and then rearranged them again. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

  That wasn't just a beautiful woman. It was Cherry Spencer. It had been years since I had seen her, and every one of them had done her well. She was beautiful the last time we saw each other, but now she was absolutely gorgeous. The years had only improved her delicate features and luscious body. I felt my body responding to her instantly. I chastised myself for it. I shouldn't be looking at her that way. I remember the last time that I saw her, I gazed at her with the same hunger. I can still picture her standing there in my bedroom in baby pink lingerie, offering herself to me. She had wanted me that night, and I desired her just as badly. Maybe even more. I had wanted Cherry since I first noticed that she wasn't the same little kid running around in the yard anymore. But I didn’t let myself act on my urges then. I could still see the remnants of the tears on her cheeks and knew that she wasn't completely there. It had only been three weeks since her brother, my best friend, had died. I was scheduled to leave town the next morning. I didn't know when, or even if, I was ever going to come back home. I couldn't do that to her. It took everything in me to turn and walk away from her that night, but I somehow managed to do it.

  Now she was right here in front of me – all grown up. Working for me.

  I don’t know if my thoughts were so loud that she could actually hear them, or if she could just feel me staring, but Cherry turned around and we made eye contact. Her eyes widened, and I saw a pen slip from her fingers and fall to the desk in front of her. The sound of it hitting the wood seemed to bring her out of her stunned reaction to seeing me and she jumped slightly. Reaching out and grabbing the pen off the desk, she gave me a shy, flustered smile. I smiled back and walked over to her desk.

  "Cherry Spencer," I said.

  "Gabriel Reed," she said.

  I chuckled and couldn't help my eyes from briefly tracing up and down her body. Her black pencil skirt hugged her hips while the red sweater she wore tucked into it accentuated the tight nip of her waist.

  "What is a girl like you doing in a place like this?" I asked.

  She giggled, and I felt the sound trickle down my spine before tightening in my belly.

  "It seems that I'm going to be working here," she said.

  "Oh, really? And how did you manage something like that?"

  She pressed her palms to the top of the desk and leaned toward me, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

  "It's a trade secret," she murmured. I leaned in a little closer as if to let her whisper in my ear. "I interviewed for the position."

  I grinned as I straightened up, trying to not openly stare at the swell of her cleavage peeking over the curved neckline of her sweater.

  "I promise I won't tell anyone," I said.

  Cherry was smiling on the outside, but I couldn’t help but notice that she kept looking down at her hands on the table. She was also softly shifting back and forth as if she couldn't get comfortable. It made it hard to tell if she was actually happy to see me or not. I wondered if her mind was racing with the same images as mine or if she had been able to forget about that night completely. Her big green eyes rose to meet mine and she briefly ran the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip.

  Oh, yes. She remembered.

  I took a step closer to the desk and looked down into her eyes.

  "Why don't we have lunch together?" I asked.

  "Didn't you just get in?" she asked.

  I nodded.

  "Well, yeah. But I still have to eat—"

  "Hi, Cherry."

  I turned toward the male voice that had interrupted me. I vaguely recognized the slender man briskly approaching the desk as one of the many drones working in the extensive honeycomb of offices and cubicles on the floors below.

  "Hi, Blake," Cherry said

  He looked at me with a hint of surprise on his face.

  "Hello, Mr. Reed," he said. "Blake Sheridan."

  "Hello, Mr. Sheridan," I said flatly.

  He held out his hand, but quickly let it drop to the side when he realized that I wasn't going to take it.

  "I've been doing my part for office morale by helping your new secretary get settled in and feel welcome."

  "Executive assistant,"
I corrected.

  "Actually, Blake," Cherry said, then turned to look at me. "I was about to tell Mr. Reed that you’ve invited me to lunch today."

  "Isn't that thoughtful of Blake. Dinner, then. We can catch up a bit."

  I felt a need to claim Cherry. To make it evident to Blake and his stupid puppy dog eyes that were staring at Cherry, that I was there first. Cherry’s cheeks flushed scarlet and I wondered if she could sense the tension I felt.

  "Sure," she finally replied. "That would be really nice."

  "Good. I'll pick you up at eight."

  "Do you think we could make it seven?" she asked. "I have this new job and my boss is kind of a stickler. He likes me to come in really early."

  I smiled.

  "Alright. Seven it is. I wouldn't want to get you in any trouble at your new job." I took a few steps away and then turned back to her. "Do you still live with your mom?"

  I knew that she didn't, but I wanted one to make one last parting jab at Blake. Just so he knew that Cherry and I had history. It was the definition of petty, sure, but something about being around Cherry made me act like this.

  "No," she said. "I moved to the Grizzly River Apartments a few years back."

  I nodded.

  "I'll look up the address in your file then," I said. "Have a good lunch."

  I winced slightly as I made my way back toward my office.

  Now I was petty and kind of creepy. What a fantastic start to a reunion.

  Cherry

  "It seems like you and the boss are pretty friendly already," Blake said as I walked around my desk to join him.

  I shook my head.

  "It's not like that," I assured him. "He and I have known each other for years. My entire life, really."

  One of Blake's eyebrows cocked at me and I felt the urge to retreat from its arch of judgment.

  "Oh?"

  "He was my brother's best friend," I explained, not sure why I felt the compulsion to justify our relationship to a person I didn't even know. "I didn't know that he was the boss here until I interviewed for the position. We haven't seen each other years. Not since…" I hesitated for a second, collecting myself, and then continuing, "...the last time we saw each other."

  The end of my explanation fell flat, and Blake looked at me for a few more seconds like he was evaluating me. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he turned away so that he could press the button on the elevator. As we stepped inside the car, I let out a small sigh of relief.

  Was our history really that innocent? It didn't feel that way.

  I was grateful that Blake had figured transit time into our one-hour lunch and had chosen a restaurant only ten minutes from the office. I didn't know if I would be able to focus for any longer than that. I was way too distracted. I couldn’t stop thinking about Gabriel and what it was like to be around him again. I felt bad every time that Blake had to say my name to get my attention or stared at me across the table, obviously waiting for a response to something he had said, but I didn’t hear. He was pleasant and funny enough, but my mind was filled with thoughts of Gabriel. And by the time that we were splitting the check, I was confident that neither Blake or I would consider this a date.

  But what about dinner with Gabriel? Was that a date? Were we really just two old friends catching up over dinner and talking about our new, professional relationship?

  Had I known the answer to that question it would have been much easier for me to choose an outfit to wear that night. I had gone through everything in my closet at least twice and had even worked my way through some of the clothes that Jess had left over at my place over the years. I was also strongly questioning my decision to accept Gabriel's invitation in the first place. I didn't know if this was the right thing to do. Just looking into his eyes again had stirred up an uncomfortable mix of emotions in my belly. And honestly, I didn't know how I would handle those feelings when we were alone and away from the many pairs of scrutinizing eyes at the office. At the same time, I don’t really feel like I had much of a choice. Not only was Gabriel someone who had known me my entire life, now he was my boss. I really couldn't think of a graceful way to decline his invitation.

  I heard a knock at my door just as I was applying the last swipe of mascara on my lashes. After taking one last look in the mirror, I rushed over to answer it. Gabriel had changed out of the suit from earlier and was now in an immaculately tailored suit that I’m sure was exorbitantly priced, but somehow managed to come across as casual and elegant, not stuck-up or stuffy. I still remembered what he looked like covered in mud from playing football in the yard after the rain or splattered with fake blood for Halloween. Even then I found him enticing, but fully-grown adult Gabriel was a vast improvement. He exuded an air of total confidence and looked sleek and sexy as he flashed me the same bright smile I’ve always known.

  "You look fantastic," he said.

  His suit made me glad that I had chosen to wear a simple black dress with a full skirt that just skimmed my mid-thigh. I would have felt even more out of place beside him if I had gone with the slacks and cardigan combo that had been an early contender.

  "So do you," I said.

  He peered over my shoulder and I got the feeling that he was curious and wanted to see my apartment, but I quickly shut the door behind me. Hearing Jess scold me in the back of my mind, I locked the door and made sure it was bolted shut before turning back to him.

  "Ready?"

  I nodded, and he held out his hand to motion for me to me walk in front of him. I took a few steps before he fell into step beside me and we made our way down the breezeway in silence. I had expected him to escort me to some kind of flashy sports car, but instead, we walked up to a long black limo.

  "Really?" I asked without meaning to actually say it out loud.

  "I thought it would be nice to not have to drive so that we could get a chance to talk," he said.

  His tone was completely casual, as if everyone in my concrete jungle of one- and two-bedroom apartments, got picked up in limos for weeknight dinners.

  I nodded as the chauffeur stepped out the car and walked around to open the back door for us. I dipped inside and scooted as gracefully as I possibly could along the leather seat.

  "Thank you, Harlan," Gabriel said as he ducked inside to join me.

  The conversation felt tense as we drove to the restaurant. I was very aware of his presence in the small, private space of the backseat and tried to keep my mind focused on making small talk.

  How was your first day of work?

  Do you like the building?

  It's funny seeing you again this way.

  The weather is really nice tonight.

  Summer is definitely coming.

  We were making our way through the third round of various iterations of the same questions and answers when I felt the car come to a stop. A few minutes later, we were escorted through the back entrance of a historic hotel and up a narrow staircase to a door that had "Tip Top" enscribed on it in gold-plated scroll.

  "What's this?" I asked.

  "Just something I've arranged," Gabriel said.

  The man who had brought us up the stairs took an elaborate, old-fashioned key out of his pocket and used it to unlock the door. He stepped inside and then out of our way. I felt Gabriel's hand rest lightly on the small of my back. His touch sent a shiver down my spine as I let him guide me through the door. I gasped when I saw the restaurant stretched out in front of me. It looked like a photograph from the 1930s. It was so pristine and perfectly preserved that it was like stepping out of one era and into another.

  "This is incredible," I whispered to Gabriel.

  "Not many people know this is here," he said. "It was the hottest restaurant in town when the hotel was first in business. It became a speakeasy during Prohibition and wealthy and influential people from all over the world would buy in so that they could be members and party up here. It closed to the public just a few years after the Prohibition ended. Now you hav
e to go through private channels to have access to it." He gestured in front of us and we walked across the room. The entirety of the restaurant was contained within a glass dome that had a slight discoloration that told of its years. We stepped up to the glass and looked out over the city. "But it's worth the effort."

  I couldn't imagine the effort that he had gone through to get the restaurant opened just for us and I felt a distinct flutter in my chest as he led me to a table, already set with formal tableware and crystal glasses.

  "You really didn't have to do all of this," I said as I sat down.

  "I never have the opportunity to do this," he said. "I've been wanting to come up here for a while. Seeing you again was just a good excuse."

  "Well, thank you."

  It was hard to imagine just how much I had changed since the last time we saw each other. The years had obviously been good to him and his family. While they were on the brink of tremendous success then, they were indescribably wealthy and powerful now. I had done some research after work earlier and found that the company's holdings were quite extensive, but it seemed like Gabriel was only responsible for a small segment of the operation. I wondered if that was because he only wanted a certain level of involvement, or if there something more to it.

  "I can't believe it's been so long," Gabriel said.

  I nodded.

  "Not since right after Brent..."

  My voice trailed off and I was thankful when a waiter suddenly appeared at the side of the table and poured water into our glasses. We both murmured thank you to him and Gabriel mentioned that we were ready whenever the chef was. When the waiter walked away, we both attempted to reset the conversation.

  "How's Kathy doing? It's been probably a year since I've talked to her. I keep meaning to give her a call or stop by, but…"

  I didn't ask him to finish the sentence. I knew. There were times that it was still hard for me to walk into that house.

  "Mom never mentioned to me that she was still in touch with you," I said. "I didn't even know that you were back in town."