by Joya Ryan
“You can start at the top of the list. Tonight is fine for the first date.”
“I don’t have a frame of reference for this kind of request,” I said. I had poured over Cathy’s database and the information she’d left. Never once had setting up dates with women come up.
“That’s because Cathy never set up a date for me.”
I looked up and frowned. “Then why are you having me do this?”
He smiled. “Why is that a concern of yours? We’re strictly professional, correct?”
The air hurt my throat as I tried to breathe and I realized exactly what was happening. Leo was upset with me. I had screwed up. Honestly, the way I felt about him was starting to upset me, because I didn’t want him to look at me as anything but desirable.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to convince myself that by desirable, I meant strictly in a professional way. But that was a lie. I knew it. And that fact was tearing at the emptiness I kept locked deep inside. Right now, though, I needed my logic. Needed to get a grip and solve the obvious issue brewing between us since last week’s make-out session on the terrace.
“Look, I know we had that moment at the gala—” I started.
“You kissed me.”
“It was a slipup—”
“And you also bit me a little, actually.” He ran his thumb over his lower lip and smiled.
“However, you are obviously trying to get a reaction out of me by this little stunt, and it’s not going to work.”
“Let me clarify a few points real quick,” he said. “First off, nothing about me, including my stunts, are little.” He gave a casual spin in his chair and I checked the urge to roll my eyes. “Secondly, I already got the reaction out of you I wanted. And it involved you moaning my name.” He winked, and nothing on the planet could have taken down this man’s swagger. “Now, that being said, do I find it irritating that you continually walk away from me right after giving me a glimpse of the real you?” He rubbed his jaw and nodded. “Well, yeah.”
And there it was. Back to this. Leo thought he saw something in me. If I was any less stubborn I might admit that his interest, or his pursuit to know me, was nice. It somewhat patched the void I’d been filling over the years with work.
It was his damn eyes. The way his voice got a little deeper, a little more accented when talking about something he cared about.
And when he opened up, just enough to see that pain he carried from some mysterious event from Greece, I instantly latched on to it. Recognized it. Wanted to chase that sad look away and make things right for him.
Which was why I’d kissed him.
It was also why I’d walked away.
Again.
Because there was more to him. Just like he presumed there was more to me. But at the end of the day, that didn’t matter. I needed his letter of recommendation and to stay focused if I had any shot of landing something permanent after my ninety days here were up. Because one thing was very clear: Leo and I weren’t meant for long term. And we both knew it.
“Well, I assure you, I’m plenty ‘real’ right now. What you see is what you get,” I said in my best casual tone.
“I disagree completely.” He leaned across his desk and in a low, accented tone said, “Because I’ve seen and I’ve gotten, and let me assure you, there’s more to you, Red.”
I opened my mouth to refute it, but he leaned back and clasped his hands across his stomach casually. “So, I need you to set up this date with Bepa Gavrikov. Her contact information should be listed.”
My shoulders sunk because I recognized the name. She was a well-known Russian supermodel. Not that I cared. Nope. I’d book the crap out of this date and not have a single problem at all. Because Leo was right. I wanted professional.
So why the hell did I ask, “How do you know her? Or are you just pulling names off Google?”
He grinned. “She moved to Greece several years ago, does a lot of her modeling there actually, and I’ve known her for years. Friend of the family.”
I took a deep breath. Great. Just great.
“I’ll set up a date for you this evening.” I smiled and turned to walk out. I had my own date tonight anyway. A girls’ night out.
“Oh, and Red?”
I turned to face him. “Send her thirteen long-stemmed roses.”
I frowned. “Not a dozen?”
He was very serious. “No, thirteen. Understand?”
I nodded and left his office feeling equal parts moron and stupid girl. Emotions were so annoying. When I should be concentrating on work, I was wondering if one of those gowns in Leo’s closet belonged to the supermodel I was about to set him up with.
I made a mental note to update my resume and add pimp to my list of skills. Right below gopher and above idiot prone to sexually harassing her boss.
“Where’s Amy?” I asked after hugging Hazel and taking a seat in the small booth. We’d found a diner in Poughkeepsie that was a good middle point for us.
“Amy couldn’t make it,” Hazel said, but she didn’t look me in the eye, instead flipped through the drink menu.
“Couldn’t make it? Or wasn’t allowed?”
Hazel looked at me now, and the obvious unease and pity in her eyes was clear. “With the scandal heating up, I think Roman just wants to keep her close and away from the public eye.”
“You mean, Roman wants to keep her away from me.”
“No.” Hazel reached over and patted my hand. “You know how protective he is, especially with Amy and the media.”
I nodded. Yeah, I did know. Roman went out of his way to put Amy first despite what his best advisers said. One of which I used to work for.
“Did you hear the latest on the scandal?” Hazel asked softly. Though she knew it affected me, she also knew that, as of now, I wasn’t named and no way in hell was I going to the press.
“I haven’t watched or kept up on it,” I said honestly.
Between being busy with Leo and his demands, and avoiding the scandal like the plague, I didn’t keep up with it on purpose.
“Oh, um . . .” Hazel glanced away. “I know you worked with a lot of people in the office, but one of the girls, Jane Wesley . . .”
I nodded. “Yeah, I heard she was one of the interns who Bill approached.”
“She was the one getting the most heat. I guess Bill took a video of her on his cell phone while she was with him. It was leaked yesterday.”
“Oh, God.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. I knew Bill’s phone was being searched and certain things had been released, but a video? Poor Jane. Bill was an overbearing ass and because I knew both of them, I had a good idea how this had likely gone down. He was in a position of power and she gave in.
“Yeah, it’s awful.”
“It is,” I said.
“I guess her mother found her.”
“Wait, what?” My eyes snapped to Hazel. “Found her? What are you talking about?”
Hazel’s eyes went wide. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Paige, I thought you heard, with the way you were talking. Jane tried to kill herself this morning.”
My heart stilled and heat rushed behind my eyes. I tried to make my mouth work, but only managed to open and close it a few times.
“I’m so sorry,” Hazel said. “Do you know her well?”
I knew her well enough. She had drive and ambition, and really wanted to help her mother and make a difference in New York.
“She’s very nice.” I glanced at my lap.
I knew how vicious the media could be. And if a video was released? I shook my head. Poor woman. The ridicule and stress must have eaten away at her. Everyone made mistakes, but Jane didn’t deserve this.
A chill broke over my spine at the thought of being amidst that scandal in the same way Jane was. I didn’t want that. Was terrified actually. Now I was in the shadows. Still unnamed. Something I hoped would stay that way.
“So tell me about Columbia,” I said with a smile, and perused the menu.
>
“Paige, we can talk about this if you want.”
“Nope,” I said. Not because I was heartless, but because, if I was honest, I was on the brink of losing my shit and not handling this at all. Just thinking of this mess, of Jane, of all of it, was enough to break down the small sense of security I’d started to build. No, I needed a subject change. Desperately.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Haz.” I shot her a look that told her I was serious. “Please, I just want to hear about Columbia.”
Hazel pushed her glasses a little farther up her nose. “Okay.” She obviously wasn’t convinced, but it was for the best. I just wanted to hear about something good.
“Columbia is amazing. Do you ever have this feeling that you finally belong? I walk around campus and just feel like I finally got to the place I’ve been running toward.”
I smiled because my friend looked honestly happy.
“Haz, that’s great. I want to come visit so you can show me around.”
“Definitely! It does make me miss you so much and the fun times we had at NYU together. Everything changes so fast.”
“It does,” I said, realizing just how much had changed, and how I tried so hard not to let it affect me. But it did.
“So, I want to hear about your job.”
I barely covered a scoff because the first thing that came to mind was that I had just set up a date for my boss, the same boss I kissed last weekend. It was also the same boss that would be showing up to meet Russian Model McPerfect-Boobs in a couple hours. To whom I of course sent roses. They were to be delivered to their dinner table at ten o’clock sharp.
“Things are going well,” I said. “Working on a project, keeping busy, met some heads of business.”
“That’s great. Are you liking the world of shipping, or missing politics?”
“Kind of both. I’m learning a lot and feeling busy and that’s nice. But I do miss politics too. Still, some of the men I’ve met over the past month have different companies or investors. I’ve been setting some groundwork to try for a job with one of them in the future.”
“You always think four steps ahead.”
I shrugged. “I have to. This job is temporary.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s smart. I never questioned that. It’s the reason Amy and I go to you with everything. Your impeccable logic.” Hazel smiled but somehow I felt like her statement wasn’t really a compliment. Thinking four steps ahead tended to take me out of the present, a fact Hazel had pointed out to me several times over the years. “I just hope you get a chance to enjoy yourself. Maybe take a break. You worked night and day in the governor’s office and now this job has you living on site. It’s so demanding.”
“I’m here tonight. That’s a social life, thank you very much,” I joked, but Hazel wasn’t laughing.
“I’m serious, Paige. I hope you are taking some time for yourself.”
“I’m fine. Thank you, though.”
Hazel nodded, dropping the subject. One thing I wasn’t fine with was the buzzing of my phone from the third missed call from my mother today. I also wasn’t fine with the reason Amy wasn’t here tonight. Roman was a good man. Protective. But it still stung that I was the leper of the group who no one wanted to touch.
Since I had a fun-filled bus ride back to Albany later, I decided to have a beer. Maybe two.
“Thanks for meeting me tonight, Haz.”
She looked at me with a little shock and I knew it was because my voice cracked a little.
“Of course. You’re my best friend.”
I really wanted to ask her to pinky promise on that and say “no matter what” because for whatever reason, the sad, scared girl I pushed down and suffocated all those years ago was starting to surface, and looking for something—someone—to cling to.
All Amy’s absence did was remind me that something bad was going on in my world, and I was alone in dealing with it.
“Three different men from New York have called me, Paiges,” my mother said.
I pressed the phone harder to my ear. Between the loud hum of the bus taking me back to Albany and my mother’s startled voice, I had a hard time hearing her.
“What did they want?”
“They asked all kinds of questions about you and your job with the governor’s office, about your boss who’s plastered all over the TV.”
“Bill Vorse?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
Great. Just great. Now reporters were looking for the next big scoop on the scandal and calling my mother to get info. It wasn’t a secret I had worked for him and no longer was now. My mother, however, didn’t know the meaning of no comment.
“They asked me all kinds of questions about you and what kind of woman you are. If I thought you were the kind to hide details, lie, and . . .”
“Mom?” When she trailed off, my heart rate picked up. “What did you say?”
“I said you had some trouble in your teen years, but who doesn’t? All girls have to learn what the truth is and how their imagination can run away with them.”
“You didn’t . . .” I cupped my forehead. “I was a minor, Mom. And your husband was the one who—”
“That’s enough, Paige!” she snapped. “We put that to rest a long time ago. Everyone is finally getting back to normal. The town doesn’t gossip the way they used to.”
Lucky me. Because yeah, I remembered the looks and harassment. The pointed stares and having no friends my entire high school career. I’d had Amy, and she was great, but between her difficult parents and her sister dying, high school wasn’t exactly spent braiding each other’s hair and gossiping about boys. I had constantly looked for a way to escape, and Amy looked for a way to make her parents notice her. We had always been friends, but the last couple years of school were rough on both of us.
Even the teachers had hated me, thinking I was some lying drama queen looking to pin an innocent man with such a despicable charge.
“I don’t want this drug back up again, Mom.”
“Neither do I, Paiges.” Her tone was softer and it hurt something in my heart. Never once did she try comforting me when I went to her in the middle of the night, crying and terrified. Nor did she when I stood up and tried to battle Frank on my own. No, she was only kind when she was trying to get me to admit what she wanted to hear.
The truth was, her husband was an asshole. But in the end, she chose him.
Still did.
“I don’t know what’s going on, or what you did—” she said.
“I didn’t do anything.”
She sighed and even with the creaky wheels of the bus, the vast night sky, and the smell of diesel around me, I could picture her clear as day. She didn’t believe me.
“You can come home. The truth is always the best way to beat anything.”
I nodded. “You’re right, Mom. But sometimes the truth doesn’t seem to matter to anyone.”
With that, I hung up and rested my head against the cold glass of the window. I was tired. A penetrating exhaustion that came with years of fighting something I could never win, and now there was a new battle I was taking on. My mother thought me a liar, one of my best friends couldn’t be around me, and my boss didn’t look at me as anything beyond temporary.
My muscles hurt and my head ached.
But it was when my eyes watered . . . just enough to realize I was closer to tears than I’d been in a long time, I sat up straight and wiped my sleeve over my eyes.
“Power respects power,” I said to myself.
I may have had no one on my side, no one to turn to, no one to even go up against. But I would stay strong. Crumbling now would be defeat.
I thought of Leo. Of his eyes. The way he saw through me, into me.
It was a problem that only made me feel weak. But weak in a way that was addicting. Because right then, the only thing that sounded like it could cure all my woes and allow me to disappear into something better, was him.
I rubbed my hands
along my shoulders and no matter how hard I tried, I was still cold. Ever since the night at the bar, I hadn’t been able to get truly warm unless I was in his presence.
And that made the ice in my stomach hurt even worse.
Chapter Eleven
I had just brushed my teeth and put on my pajamas when a loud booming knock came at my front door.
I opened it to find Leo. A very pissed-off Leo.
Tilting my head, I examined the damp stain down the front of his shirt. He smelled like vodka.
“You’re all wet,” I said, and leaned against my doorjamb.
His blue eyes were wild. “Yes. That is because I got to dinner just in time for Bepa’s roses to come. Her twelve roses. Which is when I got a drink thrown in my face.”
I raised my brow. “My, my, that sounds awful.”
He took a step toward me. “I specifically told you thirteen roses.”
I tapped my chin and glanced at the ceiling. “My silly mind. Surely I am better with details like that. Especially when you made such a big deal about it. Which is why I may or may not have Googled something about Russians and flowers. Did you know that in Russia, an even number of flowers are only given at funerals, lest they invite death?”
“Yes,” Leo growled. “I did know that. And Bepa knew I knew that and took this action as very offensive.” He went to say more, then stalled as his gaze swept over me. “Is that what you wear to bed?”
I frowned down at myself. My oversize NYU T-shirt hit mid-thigh and my comfy gray socks came just over my knees. Paired with a nest of red curls on top of my head and no makeup . . . I swallowed down an instant feeling of uncertainty.
If I typically donned a power suit, this was my clown getup.
“Yes,” I said with all the confidence I could muster. Which was hard, considering I wasn’t wearing pants.
He nodded and that wild look in his eyes turned a little more wild. But in a desirable way.
“You know, if you didn’t want me going out with Bepa, you could have just admitted you like me and are jealous.”
