Pure Abandon

by Jeannine Colette

  “Okay, okay. No more gifts. I’ve never had a woman tell me that twice.”

  “I’m glad you’re counting.” I laugh lightly. I really want to dislike this man, but he’s so magnetic. As hard as I try, my eyes never leave his. The current between us is building. I know he can feel it too. Thank God for the desk as a barrier to our indiscretion.

  Breaking the spell, Asher shakes his head and stares at the floor. He takes a breath and puts his hands on his legs, rising from the chair.

  “All right. That’s all.” Just like that, the playful man is gone and back is the commanding CEO. “I want to see the new rundown with the amended time next week. Call my office and make an appointment.”

  I feel awkward and slightly displaced. “Yes, sir.”

  He is half out the door, his back to me, when he halts and speaks over his shoulder. “And, Gray. She’s not married… yet.”

  If I could see his face, I’d swear there is a smile on it as he references the woman he went home with at the museum. Asher exits my office, closing the door behind him.

  My shoulders drop and I realize how tense I am. I don’t think I’ve relaxed in the last two hours.

  He’s back to being my mystery man.

  Ugh, and I thought I said no nicknames.

  Just because Asher has decided to form a truce between the two of us doesn’t mean I’m not on pins and needles with the thought of going to his office. I tried to get out of it. After perfecting the rundown this morning, I emailed it to him, hoping he’d approve it as he did the last set of documents.

  To my surprise, my computer lets out a ping sound, signaling a new email in my inbox.

  TIME: THURSDAY, JULY 8 10:04 A.M.

  TO: GRAYSON, KATHRYN

  FROM: ASHER, ALEXANDER

  SUBJECT: YOU, ME, MEETING…

  NOW

  : )

  At least he used a smiley face.

  The elevator takes me up to the penthouse. It feels a long way away from the twenty-fourth floor.

  When the doors open, I’m greeted with a reception area similar to the one Trish sits at, but more grandiose and missing a redhead. A woman I assume is Asher’s assistant, Cecelia, greets me. I had to call her, rather embarrassingly, asking if I should go up to the penthouse or if the meeting would be taking place in my office. I really had no idea.

  She answered with a serious tone. “Mr. Asher travels for no one.”

  I wanted to be snotty and tell her he’s been in my office twice since I met him, but the point is moot.

  “Mr. Asher will be with you in one moment. Please, have a seat.” Cecelia’s tone is far more cordial than it was earlier. Although, she does take a minute to assess me from head to toe. Peeking down at my navy dress with a boat neck, long sleeves and a hemline that falls at the knee. I look like a professional. I’m sure Asher’s had a few Heathers come through here with their short skirts and low-cut shirts. Cecilia must have a field day people-watching.

  The seating area is similar to the one downstairs, with its white leather sofas and chrome furniture. Instead of plasma screens, there’s a massive fish tank that takes up most of the wall. Inside are the most exotic sea creatures I’ve ever seen. Vibrant-colored exteriors with exquisite forms. Gabriel would get a kick out of this.

  Cecelia disappears behind a large mahogany door and reappears seconds later to tell me I can enter. I make my way through the door and wonder if I should leave it open. I don’t want Cecelia getting the wrong idea.

  The office is large, high-tech, and divided into four sections. Asher has a desk in front of a large picture window. He’s seated at his desk, his back to me, on the phone. I stand in the center of the room and look over the space.

  There is a seating area set up like a mini living room, a small conference area, and, apropos, a bar. Behind the bar is a large television screen in which, if you look closely, you can see the seam where four individual screens meet up. The screens are currently acting individually, playing CNN, MSNBC, FOX News, and the BBC. All controlled by an iPad on the bar. Very cool. Very mega mogul headquarters.

  Asher swings his chair around and keeps a serious expression on his face even after he sees me standing here. He continues to talk to the person on the other end of the call while I walk forward and situate myself in one of the desk chairs.

  I feel awkward, almost like I’m eavesdropping on his call. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the least. As I spread my files on the table, Cecelia knocks on the door and walks in with two cups of coffee. “Two black, as you requested.”

  I glance over at Asher, surprised he remembers how I like my coffee. Cecelia leaves the room and closes the door behind her.

  Asher dismisses his call in the same way he’s ended every conversation and meeting I’ve ever witnessed. Abruptly. Not knowing which version of Asher I’m going to get today, I wait for him to speak first.

  “We never did get to have our meeting. The one when we were so rudely interrupted by the rain.” Idyllic eyes twinkle as he motions toward the black coffees.

  Taking a sip, I force my shoulders to relax. “You like your coffee black too?”

  “Something else we have in common,” he says.

  It takes me a second to realize what he means. Well, to be honest, I don’t entirely know what he meant, but I’m not going to ask. I’m pretty sure he’s talking about our common interest in the arts and in this project. He’s keeping a tally of our interests. Is that weird? Maybe he really doesn’t have anyone around here he can be on friendly terms with.

  I take out my copies of the rundown and place one in front of each of us. Slipping into business mode, Asher goes through the entire document, minute by minute, second for second. He probably doesn’t know what he’s looking at. He’s a money guy, not a producer.

  “A bar in the office. Very young mogul meets old-school businessman. I approve,” I offer. My awkward comment is met with his intense silence. I inhale through my nose and play with my fingers.

  Asher leans back in his desk as he assesses the document. I’ve added the time he has requested but had to cut down on the three celebrity acts considerably to make up the difference. I also took time away from his speech. Let’s hope he’s a quick talker.

  His blond hair looks darker in the dim light of the office. Everything about him seems a little darker. Although there is a giant window behind the desk, the light pouring through casts a shadow in variations of black and white around his solid frame.

  I shift my weight in my seat. “There is additional commercial block built in there. Malory has been doing a kickass job selling ad space.”

  “She should. We’ve contracted out the ad sales to another company,” he says, flipping the page.

  I swallow. My nails are incredibly fascinating to me right now. I don’t do well in silent situations. It’s like I have this innate desire to fill the empty void with chatter. And once I say something, I immediately wish I’d kept my mouth shut.

  So I just sit and stare. At least the view is nice.

  Asher’s lips pucker and he slides the pen down the document, reading every word and number on the page. His eyes skim over the same portion of the paper a few times, trailing back and forth from left to right. Either he disagrees with something on the page or…

  “You don’t know how to read a rundown, do you?”

  His head pops up betraying a mixture of surprise and insult that I asked the question.

  What the hell is wrong with me? For someone who has spent her life keeping her idiotic thoughts to herself, I certainly have diarrhea of the mouth when I’m around this man.

  I lower my lids and let out a sigh, feeling so foolish for accusing my boss of not knowing how to read a simple production document. A second later, when I open my eyes, I’m surprised when I see, instead of an affronted mogul, something else.

  The left side of his mouth is curled up and he lets out a light chuckle from deep in his throat. “You got me. I have no idea what I’m looking at.” />
  A gush of air washes out from my lungs. And with that air comes all the nervous energy I carry when I’m around here. I let out a huge unattractive snort and then try to cover it up with my hand laugh.

  “Amused?” he asked, his mouth still bent.

  I gather my wits and wipe a tear from my eye. “No. I mean, yes.” I cough and then take a deep breath, sitting up straight again to regain my self-control. “I’m sorry. That was rather unprofessional.”

  Asher drops the document on his desk and leans forward, folding his hands into each other and placing them on his desk. “It’s okay. Maybe you can show me what I’m looking at.”

  This should be interesting. One would think someone of his stature would know how to do just about anything.

  I grab the arms of my chair and scoot myself closer so I can lean forward and look at the rundown he placed on his desk. Using my pen, I point to the column all the way to the left and tell him the program is portioned out into blocks categorized with letters of the alphabet. Each block contains a segment of the event, whether it be a speech, a performance, or an interview. Pretty much every element of the show is given its own block, and with each block comes a block of time. If Asher knows any of this already, he doesn’t allude to it. He lets me move along explaining each portion of the document, how to read the time that’s been allotted, where the commercial breaks are, and the various elements that will be in place for each block of the show.

  He’s a quick study and starts making changes immediately. No surprise, his changes are good, but not simple. The tricky thing about creating a rundown is making one change has a domino effect on the pieces before and after the change.

  We take our pens and start marking up the pages. His black and my blue pen shooting over the white pages like a piece of modern art.

  “You can’t do that,” I say.

  “Why not? We just took thirty seconds from Crystalis’s performance.”

  “Because you have to hit your commercial break at exactly nine thirty-four or else the network will cut you off. Network commercial breaks go to air whether you’re ready for them or not.” Looking down at the paper, I don’t even know which changes I’ll be able to keep. The page looks like a toddler got his hands on a pen and started scratching up the paper. “Let me work on this some more and I’ll get it back to you.”

  I grab the papers from the desk and stand up. I’ve been in the office for half an hour. He must have another appointment after me.

  “Why don’t we keep going?” He stands and grabs his phone off his desk.

  Watching him make his way from behind his desk, I explain, “We could, but you really need to be on the computer to do this and the software is in my office…”

  “So let’s go to your office.” Asher’s hand is on the door. He opens it and calls out to Cecelia. “Cancel my afternoon appointments.”

  My feet are still planted on the floor as Asher looks back at me, holding the door open. Does he really want to work from my office? Should I be surprised he cancelled his afternoon appointments to work on a rundown with me?

  I suppose the lesson here is I should stop being surprised by anything Asher.

  Shrugging, I move one foot in front of the other and lead Asher down to my office.

  The elevator ride isn’t nearly as exciting as the last two I’ve shared with him. I’m surprisingly comfortable this time. Perhaps it’s because the elevator stops on a few floors on the way down to accommodate other passengers. The company is very welcome.

  We make our way to Asher-Marks Communications and I lead the way to my office, ignoring the stares of colleagues who see Asher on the floor… with me.

  Asher and I take seats at my desk, me on my side and him in the guest seat. After I log in, I pull up the software and then tilt the computer so we both can see. We go through the notes we made together and start making the changes. I explain why we can’t do things and then he tells me I have to, and somehow I manage to make it happen.

  At noon, he orders food for lunch and Trish brings it in when it arrives. By one, Asher has asked to see the production details I have so far. He isn’t impressed by how much work still needs to be done on them, and I explain he was the major holdup. He laughs, apologizes, and then tells me what I need to have completed by the end of the week.

  He’s authoritative, but he’s not bossy. He’s direct, but not mean. He has a way of saying things to me about my work that I don’t find condescending. And while just last week I thought he was the rudest person on the planet, this afternoon I find myself respecting his opinion.

  Why? Because he is so passionate about this project it’s hard to fault him on anything else.

  By two, my stomach is full and my desk is full of files. Asher stands up and puts his suit jacket back on. He had taken it off, along with his tie, when the Thai food arrived. He ate an incredibly spicy curry dish and said he has a penchant for ruining ties with his lunch. Apparently, he never has lunch situations as casual as this. He said I’d probably cry if I saw the amount of money he spent on ties every year. I found it was so against character for him to have said it. He always seems so poised and controlled.

  Fixing the tie around his neck, Asher looks down at me still seated behind my desk. “You know, doing the concert in the park was a good idea. Doing two events was a great idea. Although, I have to admit, if anyone else mentioned it, I wouldn’t have approved it.”

  I cock my head to the side. “Then why did you?”

  He swings the tie around the knot he just formed and up from the back to secure it in place. “I like to challenge people. I wanted to challenge you.”

  I bite down on my lip. Do I even want to know the answer to this? “Why?”

  Looking down at me, his eyes turn serious, like molten lava from a volcano. They find mine as they do every time he wants me to know he means what he has to say. “Because I can.”

  It’s the last thing he says before turning around and heading out of the office. Exhaling, I slump in my chair, trying to comprehend how my relationship with Asher did a one-eighty.

  My office, the one that seemed so small moments before, now seems huge. I glide my hands along the glass surface of my desk, hoping the cool, smooth surface will bring me back to reality. I look for something to fiddle with and end up with a pen. My space is so impersonal. I need to bring in pictures of Gabriel and Jackson. Their smiling faces will definitely help ground me when the scenarios become too intense. I upload the photo from my phone and add it to my computer desktop.

  I have a security list I have to submit to, Marci, the woman in charge of compiling all the lists and making sure only the right people are allowed backstage access. I stare at the list I started earlier, looking for a distraction. An hour later, I have yet to add a single thing to the document and I’ve chewed the cap off my pen. I’m far too distracted by my previous company.

  I’m only pulled back into reality when my phone rings.

  “Hey, baby.” Gabriel is unusually chipper for midweek. I feel instant calm. Just hearing his voice grounds me.

  “I needed to hear your voice.”

  “Everything okay? Asher riding you hard today?”

  I nearly fall out of my chair. My pen, however, does fall from my hand. Thank God it’s the only thing I’m holding.

  “Not exactly. Just… overwhelmed.”

  “That is a way to describe you in most scenarios, Kat. But you always manage to come out on top.”

  “Thank you. Where are you?”

  “I was calling to say I’m heading home early. I can’t take the office anymore, and I just want to hang out with Jack. Maybe take him to the park or something.”

  “That sounds great. I’m jealous.” I smile back at the desktop photo of Gabriel and Jackson.

  “Since you’re having a crazy day, why don’t you go get a manicure or something on your way home? You need some alone time. Jack and I can do some male bonding.”

  “You’re amazing, Gabe, but I’
m good. I’ll just come home.”

  “Are you sure? You should do something for yourself.”

  Do something for myself? I look at the calendar on my computer and see the inter office event scheduled for tonight.

  “Well…my coworkers are going out after work for drinks for Heather’s birthday. Do you mind if I do that instead?”

  “That sounds like fun. You need to make more friends.”

  “I find my life is quite full. Why do I need anyone but you and Jackson?”

  “That’s why we love you. Go out tonight. Have fun. Just promise you’ll take a cab home.”

  “I will. Talk to you later.”

  “Bye, baby.”

  Yes, a drink is exactly what I need to unwind.

  Malory and I step into the Whiskey Blue at the W Hotel. With its navy snakeskin-leather club chairs and dim lighting, the place is a modern-day take on an old New York gentlemen’s club. The zebra-striped couches bring an added flair that makes it the perfect spot for the young office set.

  The place is swimming with suits and Louboutin-wearing young women hoping to meet their seven-figure mogul future husbands. These women are dressed to the nines.

  Before leaving the office, Malory insisted we freshen up. I touched up my makeup and let my hair down, while Malory took the liberty of removing my cardigan. That is before the inquisition about Asher’s visit to my office started in the cab ride over here.

  I rolled my eyes. “Please tell me I can go to the ladies’ room without someone tracking my every move?”

  Malory laughed. “It’s not your moves they’re tracking. It’s Asher’s. Everyone saw him go to your office.”

  The cab cruised up Park Avenue. I only had to make it a few blocks before exiting the conversation. As much as Malory was my closest confidant at our previous job, I just didn’t want to give her any reason to think something is amiss with Asher. I value her respect too much.

  Malory’s eyes studied me, but I never faltered. Our conversation shifted to shoes, and by the time we arrived at Lexington and 49th, we decided to swap. Her red stilettos gave me the added color she said I needed for a night on the town. I traded her my beige patent leathers, which, of course, she made look sexy as hell.