by Claire Adams
"All ready, sir?"
"Topher, Jesus," I cried, startling the party-goers around me. "You scared the hell out of me."
Topher grinned. "I'm not sure I'm the reason you're so jumpy, but I apologize. I'm just so excited."
"I'm not jumpy," I said with no real conviction.
Topher dug in his pockets and produced a small, black velvet box. "The jeweler assures me the size will work. It's an absolutely stunning ring, Rainer."
I snatched the box out of his hands and stuffed it in my pocket. The few party-goers crushed closest to us had started to eavesdrop with great interest. "Can we just get on with the plan? If it's going to fail, I'd rather it was before all the alcohol is gone."
Topher waited for me to slam my drink and then lead the way through a series of side-rooms. We stopped at the door to the portico, and Topher delighted in peeking out like we were in a spy movie.
"Does she look suspicious?" I asked.
"Um, no, everything's fine," Topher lied.
I flung open the door and walked onto the portico to see for myself. Tasha was fending off Berger and looking worried. She kept glancing around her as if someone was going to prank her from behind. I watched, frozen, as she skirted past Berger and almost made it back inside the mansion.
Stan caught her at the French doors and turned her around. He kept an arm tight around her shoulders as they strolled back into place.
"See? Everything's fine." Topher gave a sigh of relief.
I tried to catch my breath. It was now or never.
#
I thought I could handle the party without any problems, but a few minutes in the door and I was already panicking. Running into Rainer on the front steps had felt like the keys turning in the ignition of a car I wasn't driving. My heart raced along, my eyes sweeping the crowd to see him, and I couldn't believe I was so quickly out of control.
It wasn't as if I hadn't seen Rainer in the last few weeks. He seemed to pop up everywhere, and I had gotten used to the sudden moments we shared together.
Once I caught sight of his fancy sports car at the little hotel in my home town. I could have passed without seeing him, but I peeked in the windows and saw him sitting alone at a table. He claimed his work friend had just left. Two days later, he happened to be grabbing lunch at the same restaurant as me. When my lunch meeting fell through, we had a long meal together.
In fact, I hadn't gone more than four days without seeing him, so I couldn't understand why tonight felt so different. I tried to tell myself it was because we were all dressed up. Rainer looked like a heartthrob straight off the movie screen in his black tuxedo. His hair was mussed, but all it did was give him a human appeal. It made me want to tangle my hands in it as we kissed. . .
I jolted myself out of the daydream and tried to concentrate on what Berger was saying.
It didn't really seem to matter if I was listening as Berger was talking at high speed. His oddly excited behavior made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. What was I missing?
I couldn't help but think this was some sort of hazing opportunity. I was completely exposed on the back portico. The luxurious green lawn swept up and away from the portico like a wide amphitheater, and I felt like I was on view. As Berger continued to chatter, I definitely got the idea he was going to prank me. It would be just like Stan to have to pull one more thing over on his protege before he retired for good.
"Berger, I'm sorry, but I'm going to head back inside and make sure Stan doesn't need my help," I said.
He tried to block my way, but the look I gave him made him stand down. I almost made it through the French doors before Stan himself caught me and steered me back outside.
"Isn't it a beautiful night?" Stan asked.
"Are you drunk?"
Stan chuckled and threw an arm around my shoulders. "Not yet, my dear, but it feels like a good night to celebrate, doesn't it?"
I tried to shrug his arm off. "Why are you so cheerful? Shouldn't you be complaining about the buzzards circling the dead body of your career?"
"No, I'm glad to be giving it up. It's all a game for the young, you allospecific. Now that your career is on a high trajectory, I can sit back and enjoy the simple things," Stan said.
I gestured to the lavish silk banners and delicate crystal lanterns that decorated the immense facade of his mansion. "The simple things? Like what?"
"How about young love?" Stan asked.
I stopped short and rooted my high heels to the ground. "Now I know something is wrong, Stan. Tell me what's going on. Are you dying?"
Stan hooted with laughter. "No! I might be old, but at least I'm young at heart. You, on the other hand, need to let a little more love in your life."
"Oh, God, not more dating advice. Please, Stan, can we just enjoy your retirement party?" I shivered, still convinced my colleagues were about to haze me.
Then I saw Rainer, and it was the rest of the party that turned hazy. It wasn't the elegant and sexy cut of his tuxedo, or the way his dark hair shone under the lanterns. It was his electric blue eyes as they locked onto me. In that one glance, I saw worry, hope, and something that lit a fire deep in my belly.
Or at least I thought I did. It had been weeks since Rainer even mentioned our private interlude on Berger's yacht. I wondered if his passion for me had finally waned, and I couldn't blame him. I had done everything I could to bury it, hide it away, and now I was afraid it would light me up like a bonfire.
I wanted Rainer. More than that, the few weeks of seeing him here and there had cemented in my mind how much I loved having him around. I loved him, and I couldn't imagine he would return my feelings.
I wondered only briefly how Rainer had gotten to the back portico from the front steps without me seeing him pass by. Then I saw Otto gently shooing party-goers off the portico and onto the lawn. The crowd thinned between Rainer and I. Finally, Stan gave me a squeeze and then stepped back.
"Is this a prank?" I asked Rainer.
He blew out a tense breath and tried to smile. "No," he said. "This is a proposal."
Rainer dropped to one knee, and with the whole lavish party, full of our friends and colleagues, as a backdrop, he asked me to marry him.
"And all I ask is that you come home to me," Rainer said. "After you work, after you accomplish everything you want, I'll be there for you, if you let me."
Epilogue
Tasha
Sometimes in the middle of work, the entire scene washed over me. Like a tsunami, it knocked everything else out of the way. The wide window of my downtown Oakland office disappeared and I found myself standing on Stan's portico again.
Rainer was on one knee, his words so soft and stressed that I had to lean forward and down to hear him. Then I reeled back, not believing I had heard him right. Rainer had to shuffle forward across the bricks to catch my hand and try to convince me he was serious.
What really caught me was his sincere offer to always be there when I came home.
No other expectations, no other old-fashioned notions of marriage, just me pursuing my career and coming home each night to find him there for me.
After I said yes, Rainer had launched from the bricks and caught me up in his arms. Instead of the molten kiss I expected, he lifted me high in the air and spun me around until the twinkling lanterns and lights of Stan's mansion flowed into bright circles.
And then we kissed.
I leaned back in my office chair, ready to draw the warmth of that memory around me like a blanket.
"Ms. Nichols?"
Topher stood in the doorway, and when I spotted him, I jumped out of my chair. "What? I mean, I'm here. What do you need?"
My assistant gave me funny little smile. "I tried buzzing twice, but you didn't answer, so I knocked."
I smoothed down my suit. "I was just deep in thought. Business, of course."
"Of course," Topher said. "Though it would be very helpful if you set aside some time to think about a wedding date."
&n
bsp; "Yes, yes, of course." I shuffled papers needlessly on my desk. "Rainer and I have been meaning to discuss it. We just keeping getting, ah, distracted."
Topher held up his hand. "No need to explain. I have a few suggestions if it would be helpful."
"Helpful for you?" I asked my eager assistant.
He nodded emphatically. "How am I supposed to plan the perfect wedding if I don't even know what season it will be?"
"Fine, yes. As soon as these projects are a little further along, I will sit down with Rainer and we will choose a wedding date," I said. "It's just a little bit more complicated than I expected."
"How so?" Topher asked. He pursed his lips, unable to hide the irritation he felt at not being able to plan ahead.
I couldn't very well tell my assistant that every time Rainer and I sat down to talk about our wedding we ended up in a passionate tangle. It was hard to think about giving that up in exchange for a mound of details such as what kind of fish we should serve at some overblown reception.
"Well, you of all people should know that I can't compromise work at this point in my career. Things are still just getting off the ground here, and I can't lose focus." I sat down again, faced my computer, and couldn't remember what I had been working on before falling into a daydream.
"I can put in the extra hours, Tasha. Or you can hire a wedding planner. It doesn't have to be a bother," Topher reminded me.
"I know, it's just that I'm not sure Rainer is ready for such structure. Can you imagine him going to taste cakes and pick out chair covers?" I asked. The thought made me shudder.
It was enough that Rainer had agreed to come live with me in the white house overlooking the three bridges. I didn't want to push for more when we were still trying to figure out how to be happy together.
"Now, I've wasted enough time as it is. I need to get these reports finished before I present everything to the board. Please hold my calls," I told Topher.
He opened the door to return to his desk and was bowled back by Rainer.
"Surprise!" Rainer said with a smile. "My volunteer shift at the community center ended sooner than I thought. So, I thought I'd swing by and take my lovely fiancée out to lunch."
I felt like a big, wet, wool blanket dropped over me. I hadn't been joking about the reports and the presentation to the board. If my own daydreaming hadn't distracted me, I could have been done. But, now, I had to tell Rainer that I didn't have time for him. Would he regret choosing someone who always picked their career over him?
I kissed him and felt like crying. "I'd love to, I'd really love to have lunch with you, but I can't," I said. "Please don't be mad. I'm just figuring out how to manage my time, and things will get better. I promise."
Rainer nodded for Topher to step out of my office and then he took both my hands. "Tasha, I don't know why you keep hesitating about getting married. I told you that I have no problem supporting your career, but I guess I have to prove it to you."
"No." I caught Rainer's face in both hands. "I need to prove to you how much I love you, and how much I appreciate you. I'll have Topher reschedule my presentation."
Rainer shook his head. "I'm not going to let you do that, but I am going to help you with those reports. Remember, I wasn't totally useless when we worked together."
"But what about lunch?" I asked.
"Taken care of." Rainer called for Topher and my assistant reappeared with a loaded picnic basket. "It may not be our little hill above the community garden, but it's good enough for me."
I watched through blurred eyes as Rainer spread out a blanket on the floor of my office. Topher raced out the door and returned with a large blooming tree in an enormous planter.
"What's this?" I asked Rainer.
"I brought the garden to you," Rainer said. "Happy?"
I threw my arms around him. "More than you know."
"Well, you can tell me," Rainer said, "after we finish those reports."
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SLEEPING WITH MY BOSS
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Asher
I glanced at myself in the mirror to see the image of a young man dressed in a subdued business suit reflecting back at me. He sat in silence on the sofa in the seating area, studying the artwork hanging on the wall next to the mirror.
It was a large piece, perhaps five feet across and four feet high. It consisted of a small red square in the top left hand corner against a white background. Countering the geometric, ordered simplicity were splashes of bold color sprayed across the entire right hand side in a chaos of strokes. It was as though all of the artist's pent-up rage and frustration had been poured out onto that canvas. It was a work of genius, really. In a way, that red square represented everyone trying to play their roles and keep the madness, and chaos, contained and controlled.
A young man approached and looked up at the artwork. He looked at the painting for a few seconds, shrugged, and then turned his attention to me.
“Hi,” he said, somewhat nervously. “Do you mind?” He motioned to the empty seat next to me on the sofa. “I have a meeting in this boardroom in a few minutes,” he added as he nodded toward the closed door to our left.
“Don’t mind at all,” I said, smiling warmly as I shifted to make more space for the newcomer. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks,” the young man replied, looking a bit flustered. His ill-fitting suit appeared to be uncomfortable, which only added to the somewhat flustered air he exuded. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his forehead and the sides of his neck.
“I'm Jason, by the way,” he said to me as he put down his briefcase and took a seat.
“Nice to meet you, Jason,” I said, extending a hand to the man. “I'm A—, er, Andrew . . . Andrew,” I replied as we shook hands. I caught myself before I could reveal too much. “I'm with the Sinclair Agency,” I added.
“Nice to meet ya, Andrew.”
“Are you with Winston?”
“No. I'm also with Sinclair. You been at the agency long?” Jason questioned.
I smiled strangely and nodded. “You could say that.”
“It's my first month here,” Jason said. “I was just assigned to the PR project for the Harry Winston Watch Company like three days ago. Now, here I am presenting at a brainstorming meeting. I’m a bit of a nervous wreck. Word is the CEO of the agency, Asher Sinclair, isn't too happy about the performance of the latest line of athletic watches in the first quarter of the year.”
I nodded. “I heard the same. Say, what's the word on Mr. Sinclair these days? What does the marketing department think about him?”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “Uh, don't you already know a bunch about Asher Sinclair? I mean, you did say you've been working here a while. What department did you say you were with again? I didn't catch it the first time.”
“I'm with finance. We don't chat too much about the boss. I think there are too many people who have to answer to him directly.”
“Oh. Well, this might help. Check this out,” Jason said as he opened his briefcase and took out the latest issue of Forbes magazine. “There's a feature piece on Asher Sinclair in here.”
“Is there, now?”
“Oh, yeah. I've read it like three times already. The guy's like, man, I dunno, Bruce Wayne or something. I can't help wondering if he's got a Bat Cave and a Bat suit up in some old family mansion i
n the hills.”
I chuckled. “Maybe he does have a Bat suit.”
“He's an odd dude. It’s a little strange that almost nobody knows what he looks like. There aren't even any photos of him on social media or anything like that. I don’t know how he keeps such a low profile. But, I guess I would, too, if I were in his shoes. It couldn’t have been easy for him, the way he grew up.”
“And, how was that?”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “You really don't know? Are you sure you've been at this firm for a while, man?”
“I just like to cross reference the stories I hear. It’s interesting how different they can be. So, what is it that you think you know about how Asher Sinclair grew up?”
“Well, rumor has it that his family situation was, you know, kind of troubled. I mean, being a millionaire by 18 cannot make for an average childhood or normal teenage years. And then the big kicker: when his grandfather, founder of the Sinclair Agency, passed away, he left the majority shares and control of the company to Asher instead of Asher's father. Now come on, how many 20-year-olds do you know who not only get to become sudden billionaires, but also the head of one of the most powerful PR firms in North America? That sort of stuff has got to mess with your head a little.”
“It might, I suppose. Although, for someone with the right resolve, the right constitution, with an insatiable urge to achieve and succeed, it could be the perfect trial by fire.”
Jason nodded. “Yeah, you could be right. And by all accounts, the kid pulled through that fiery trial like a beast. According to everything I’ve heard or read, everyone was expecting the corporation to crash and burn after being thrust like that into the hands of a kid. And, I’m sure you know, but shares did initially plummet.
