Connectivity

by Aven Ellis

  We twist and turn through the building, and, Jesus, she found the cubicle furthest away from William that she could find to stick me in.

  “Here,” she snaps, stopping in front of a vacant cubicle area.

  I catch my breath and look around. It is obvious this area is designed for future expansion, as it consists of half-constructed cubicles and boxes of office supplies.

  In fact, my cubicle has two walls, one open side where a wall should be, and boxes and boxes of crap shoved off to one corner of the desk.

  Wow. The broom closet might have been nicer.

  “Thank you,” I say, putting my tote bag down.

  “Are you going to run to Mr. Cumberland and tell him you don’t like it?” Arabella says with a fake sweetness in her voice. “I mean, everyone here knows you have him eating out of your hand.”

  I turn around as I shimmy out of my coat. Arabella wants to go there with me? Okay fine. I’ll go.

  “First of all, nobody controls anything Mr. Cumberland does,” I say firmly, draping my coat across the back of my desk chair. “And, no, I would never bother him with something as trivial as a cubicle. I don’t believe in wasting his time with matters like this, do you?”

  Arabella cocks her head to one side. “Oh, you are so full of it, MK. We all know you’ve somehow cracked the code on William Cumberland. He’s intrigued with you—God knows why—but he is. Do tell, are you shagging the hell out of him? Because I think that would be your only intriguing quality, MK.”

  Rage fills me. I seriously want to slap her across the face. My temper is lit, and I say the first thing that comes to mind.

  “You,” I say, staring Arabella dead in the eyes, “can go fuck yourself. And I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t give a shit what you say or think about me.”

  Arabella blinks. I don’t waver. I can tell this reaction isn’t what she had hoped for.

  “Well, that’s all fine and well that you don’t care, MK,” she declares in a huff. “But let me give you some insider information. William might be fascinated with you and America now, but rest assured London is his home. Not Chicago. And he will come back here permanently by June and, trust me, he’s not coming back with you. You are stark raving mad if you think anything different.”

  Then she turns on her heel and storms off before I go another round with her.

  I am so angry I am shaking, just shaking. That fucking bitch. How dare she say these things to me? But even though I am livid, a bigger emotion is sweeping through me.

  Fear.

  Yes, I know William and I will never be in a serious, long-term relationship. We both agreed that would be best in light of what we have going with our careers right now.

  But I never thought about him leaving Chicago for London on a permanent basis.

  So if that is the case, if I know I will never be with William like that, why does the thought of him leaving make me feel absolutely terrified inside?

  Chapter 13

  I sit and watch the video presentation in the large conference room. The advertising team is showing William their latest campaign idea for cross-promoting Connectivity with the networks.

  I glance across the table and see that William has his head down, typing on his iPhone.

  And as I watch him, as I have been stealing glances at him throughout this really boring presentation, I let Arabella’s words go right into my mental trashcan. I am living in the now. I’m not worried about the future.

  And the now includes studying how William’s gorgeous dark brown waves look when his head is bent over. God, I bet his hair would feel like silk if I were to touch it—

  My phone silently vibrates in my lap.

  I glance down and see I have a new text message.

  I am gone for more than two months and this is the best campaign they can come up with? WC

  I stifle a laugh and text him back.

  Are you going to express your displeasure? MGK

  I hit ‘send’ and wait. I glance at William again, and now he’s holding his phone against his chin, acting like he is very interested and deep in thought, which I know he’s not.

  I quickly add a second message.

  Nice move with the phone on your chin. You look very intrigued by this crap advertising campaign. MKG

  Then I hit ‘send’ again.

  William lowers his phone and glances at it as my messages come across. And I know when he has read the last one because the corners of his full lips pull up into a slight smile.

  Finally the presentation ends and Jecca Brown, the head of advertising, shuts off the TV and looks at William for feedback.

  “Your thoughts, Mr. Cumberland?” she asks.

  William sets his phone down. Then he puts his fingers together and rests them against his lips. He is silent for a moment and stares hard at Jecca.

  “I am rather astonished to see that in the months I have been in America that your team has managed to put together this crap advertising campaign,” William declares. “Please, Ms. Brown, expand on how on earth you thought I would be on board with a campaign with absolutely zero edge to intrigue the younger demographic. I’m all ears.”

  Holy crap! William is pissed and in full-on badass mogul mode.

  And he used my saying! Wow!

  The room falls deadly silent after he speaks. I really think you could hear a pin drop, it is that quiet and tense.

  Then Jecca quickly starts speaking, trying to explain the campaign to William. I watch as a lot of backpedaling and new ideas are frantically being thrown about. William is still annoyed—I see that in his eyes—and finally he ends this madness and sends them back to the drawing board.

  Once everyone scurries away, it is me, Arabella, and William left in the conference room.

  “Ms. Dalton, please type up the action items, recap this meeting, and distribute to the group,” William says, nodding at her. Then he turns to me. “Ms. Grant, please review the creative points and note my thoughts and then we’ll meet to review that.”

  Arabella shoots me a look. Obviously anything William needs is her ordained duty, and I should only be around to make copies and file.

  She flounces past me and I follow her out, even though I’d really like to stay and talk to William.

  I take the long walk back to banishment, and by the time I am there, my phone vibrates with a new message.

  I need to get out tonight. Dinner? WC

  Oh my God! William wants to take me to dinner! My heart jumps excitedly in response. But I decide to play this smart and type back.

  I shall dine with you only if you promise to take me on a trip on the London Eye at some point during my stay. MKG

  Then I wait to see if he will put up with my ridiculous touristy request.

  Done. I’ll pick you up at 7 at your hotel. Wear something sharp. WC

  Every nerve in my body explodes with his last text. I am going out in London with William! Somewhere nice, where I need to dress up . . . Oh my God. Oh my God! I have a date with William!

  So who knows what the future holds in June. I don’t care about that right now.

  All I care about is tonight.

  I draw an excited breath and take one final check of my appearance in the hotel bathroom mirror. It is a few minutes before 7, and I want to make sure I look perfect for tonight.

  I am wearing a cocktail dress, but not your ordinary little black dress. No, I like the unexpected. So I am wearing a cream cap-sleeved dress, one that has a folded collar neckline that plunges into a V. The dress falls just below the knee, but has a sexy slit up to the mid-thigh on the right side to flash a little leg. High, strappy silver heels and a silver cuff bracelet complete the look.

  I pick up my skinny black satin headband and slide it into my hair. T
hen I touch up my apricot lip-gloss and spritz my neck with my Versace perfume.

  There, I think, staring at my reflection. I’m ready.

  Suddenly there is a knock at my door. Butterflies take off in my stomach.

  William is at my door. To take me on a dinner date.

  I want to scream it from the top of my lungs. I have never been this excited to go on a date in my entire life. I make myself walk slowly to the door, despite the fact that I want to run, and check the peephole to confirm it is him.

  Oh my God. He’s wearing a gorgeous black suit and tie. A tie!

  I unlock the door and open it. All I can do is stare at him because he looks impossibly dashing tonight.

  William is in a gorgeous, perfectly fitted black suit. Prada, I am sure. A crisp white dress shirt is underneath and he wearing a sharp black tie.

  I swallow hard. Oh dear God, he’s beyond perfect.

  My eyes meet his, and I realize he is looking at me in the same way. His light blue eyes flicker over me in an intense gaze, one that makes my pulse jump wildly in response.

  “My God, Mary-Kate,” William whispers. “You look beautiful.”

  I feel my cheeks burn from the compliment. “Thank you. Please come in,” I say, opening the door for him. “And you look rather handsome yourself tonight.”

  William steps past me, and I smell the familiar scent of him, of his soap and pine needles. God, how I love that smell.

  “Let me just get my coat,” I say, walking over to the sofa in my suite. I pick my coat up and William is right there to help me put it on.

  I turn to him and smile, and he is still staring at me with those intense eyes. “Thank you,” I say.

  “You’re welcome,” he says. He rakes a hand through his hair, and my breath catches as his wavy strands get all ruffled up. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” I say, grabbing my silver clutch. He sweeps his arm out to gesture for me to go first, and I do. But I somehow manage to trip over my own feet and I go flying forward, about to crash right into the coffee table, until I feel William’s strong hands on me, catching me as I stumble.

  William turns me around so now we are inches apart. His arms are now around my waist.

  And as I look up at him, I see his mouth curved up into a smile.

  “Are you all right?” William asks.

  “Um, yes,” I manage to say.

  “Good. Because I would hate to see you fall and cut your head on the edge of the coffee table. A nasty gash here,” William says, slowly rubbing his thumb across my forehead, “might have required stitches. And then we’d be late for dinner and that would be tragic, wouldn’t it?”

  Oh mother of God. Heat sears through me the second his thumb brushes across my forehead.

  “Um, yes,” I manage again. “Tragic.”

  “Shall we go? I have reservations at Alain Ducasse and we don’t want to be late.”

  “Oh my God!” I gasp. “That restaurant is famous!”

  “So does this restaurant meet with your approval, Mary-Kate?” William asks, smiling back at me.

  “Yes!” I cry excitedly.

  He laughs and places his hand on the small of my back. “Then let’s go.”

  I begin walking and relish the feel of his fingertips on my back, as if guiding me in a protective way. My God, we haven’t even left the hotel and it is already the best date I have ever had!

  We take the elevator down to the lobby of the chic boutique hotel and walk out into the chilly March air.

  “I’m right here,” William says, nodding in the direction of several expensive cars that are all lined up.

  I watch as William reaches into his coat pocket and takes out his keys. He hits the fob and I watch as the lights of a sleek silver Aston Martin flicker.

  I stop dead in my tracks. I literally feel my jaw drop open.

  “You drive an Aston Martin?” I cry.

  William bursts out laughing as we walk toward his car. “Well, technically it is a One-77 Aston Martin, but, yes, I drive one.”

  I stand at the passenger door, still in awe. “This costs as much as a house!”

  “It is one of only 77 made in the world,” William explains.

  I stare at him, then back at the car. “Holy shit,” I gasp.

  “It is one of my indulgences,” William says.

  Ever the gentleman, William quickly opens my door for me.

  “Thank you,” I say, slipping into the seat.

  “You’re welcome,” William says, shutting my door. He circles around to the driver’s side. He slips behind the wheel and starts the car and, damn it, how can I be expected to be cool and collected when William is driving a car like this? Sexy man, sexy car . . . I clear my throat and refocus.

  “God, this is a gorgeous car,” I say. Then I laugh. “Sometimes I forget you have money, William,” I say honestly.

  William glances at me as he pulls out into London traffic. “I like that about you, Mary-Kate,” he says quietly. “More than you know.”

  My heart stops. I study his profile, his perfect cheekbones and glorious hair and the way he just glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.

  I am so falling for you, William. More than you know.

  We reach Alain Ducasse at The Dorchester and it is beyond posh. It is absolutely stunning inside. Contemporary and sophisticated, and I cannot believe I am here!

  We are led to our table and I eagerly drink in the experience with my eyes. I want to remember every moment of this night.

  We discuss the menu, and because William wants me to have the full experience, we start with an assortment of appetizers. God, he is so food savvy, so educated on wines, so different than any man I have ever known. We finally order and I get fish. William dines on beef, and the service is impeccable all evening, as is the food. Conversation flows freely between us the entire night and, in a word, it is perfect. This is the most perfect evening I have ever had in my life.

  I gaze at him in this setting, wondering how on earth I got here, to be with this amazing man, right now. Blessed. I am blessed.

  After our entrees are cleared from the table, William raises an eyebrow at me. “Cheese course?” he asks.

  I smile at him. “You tell me, William. You are the gourmand here.”

  He laughs, that gorgeous laugh that makes the breath catch in my throat. “Yes, well, then, we shall.”

  So we finish the evening with a delicious assortment of French cheeses and condiments, and it is the most amazing end to the best meal I have ever had.

  “Thank you so much for this,” I say after we have finished. “It was spectacular. And I know it cost a fortune.”

  William rubs his lower lip with his fingertips and my pulse jumps in response. “Ah, yes, it was expensive but I did check my bank account before leaving home. Luckily for you, I can just manage to afford it.”

  I blush and he laughs. We leave the restaurant, which makes me sad. The evening has come to an end, but I am not ready for it to end.

  We are back to my hotel in no time, and William idles the car out front. I bite my lip. I am not ready to let him go. I am not ready to call it a night.

  “William,” I say impulsively, turning toward him, “Would you like to come up for some coffee?”

  William stares at me, a crease in his brow. “Come up to your hotel room?”

  Oh Jesus. I just asked him to my hotel room. Gah! I look like an easy slut!

  I feel my cheeks flaming. “Just to talk!” I blurt out.

  “Talk,” William says slowly, his brow still furrowed.

  Oh shit. Why didn’t I ask him to get a coffee at the lobby bar?

  “I don’t think it is appropriate, Mary-Kate, that I come up to your hotel room,” William says sl
owly.

  I want to die. I want to punch him on the arm and yell, “Ha ha! Just kidding! See you tomorrow!” But that really isn’t an option since William can read every thought in my head.

  “Right. Of course,” I say, beyond embarrassed.

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate because I don’t drink coffee,” William says. “But I will come up for tea and conversation,” he declares as a huge grin passes over his face.

  “William!” I yell, as I realize he was teasing me the whole time. “Don’t do that to me!”

  He roars with laughter, and despite my efforts not to, I do, too. He whips the Aston Martin into the valet lane. Then we make our way back to my room. I swipe the key card and let us in, and we each take off our coats, with William helping me take off mine first.

  I grab the room service guide and hand it to William. He places an order for tea and then hangs up the phone while I make myself comfortable on the guest couch in my living area.

  William takes off his suit jacket and tosses it onto the back of the desk chair. We look at each other for a moment, and I wonder if his pulse is racing like mine is right now.

  He sinks down onto the couch next to me and I can’t help but think I am the luckiest girl in the world right at this moment.

  “William, thank you so much for tonight,” I say, staring at him. “I feel incredibly lucky.”

  “Lucky?” William asks, his eyes searching mine.

  I nod. “That I got to have this amazing experience in London,” I say softly. “I had the dining experience of a lifetime. I got to sit in this gorgeous restaurant and have this incredible conversation and meal. But most of all, I’m lucky because I got to share this experience with you. I wouldn’t want this experience with anyone else, William.”

  I watch as his blue eyes take in my words. Then I see the intensity.

  And I know the moment has come.