Start Me Up

by Maggie Riley

  It was my own damn fault. I had hired someone to write about my life, and now she was interested in that life. This whole book idea had been a terrible plan. Why had I let my publicist talk me into it?

  “I should probably get ready for work.” I finished my coffee, side-stepping the question.

  “Oh.” Libby put her own mug down. “Well, I’ll get out of your way.”

  She paused and I knew she was waiting for me to disagree with her. To tease her and maybe even pull her back into bed. And a part of me wanted to do that. Really, really wanted to. But that part couldn’t be in charge any more. There was too much at risk. If she had gone to speak to Mac, who knew who she would try to speak to next? Who knew how long it would be until she discovered Ella?

  So I didn’t say anything, remaining in the kitchen as she disappeared into the bedroom, grabbing the clothes I had piled on one of the chairs in the living room.

  When she returned, she was dressed and wearing a strained smile.

  “I’ll see you at the office?” she asked, her words tentative.

  I nodded, feeling like a real asshole, but also knowing that if I had to act like an asshole to protect my daughter, it was a small price to pay. If I was smart at all, I never would have gotten involved with Libby in the first place. I would have kept my dick under control.

  But hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that bullshit. I had fucked up. And I had to fix it. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a pleasant solution available. Someone was going to get hurt. I looked up at Libby, who still wore a hopeful smile on her face.

  I was a real dickhead, that much was sure.

  “See you at the office,” I told her, and let her walk out of my apartment.

  Chapter 24

  LIBBY

  Well, that was weird. And not a good, fun weird, but a bad, oh-shit-how-did-I-fuck-this-up-so-quickly weird. It was a weird I was well acquainted with.

  Dammit. I thought things were going to be different with Jack, but apparently, I had been wrong. Obviously I had said or done something that required him to pull away from me, and quickly.

  It was probably asking about his phone call. I knew he liked to keep his personal life private, but hell, wasn’t I part of his personal life? After last night, after all we had done, and all the time we’d spent getting to know each other, well, most people would consider that to be pretty damn personal.

  I wanted to hit my head against the cab door, but I controlled myself until I got back to my apartment, where I immediately flopped face down on my couch with a loud groan. What had I done?

  I felt something heavy on me, and twisted my head to find my cat walking across my back. He had absolutely no respect for the wallowing I was attempting to do. He was hungry and would continue to walk on me – with or without claws – until I got up and fed him.

  I dragged myself to the kitchen and got out a tin of tuna – more expensive than what I bought for myself – and tried to figure out what I was going to do next.

  Who had Jack been talking to on the phone? Someone he loved, obviously. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy that said “I love you” very often, but he had appeared to be very comfortable saying those words to whomever was on the other end of the line.

  A terrible feeling spread through me, chilling me from the inside. Was he married? Was his reluctance to discuss his personal life because he had a personal life that contained a secret wife?

  I suddenly felt very, very stupid. I had assumed that he was single, but what if he wasn’t? What if all of this had always been a casual affair, only I didn’t know about the affair part? That explained his cold demeanor after I walked in on his phone call, and how he had neatly avoided answering my questions.

  I felt nauseous. And unbearably sad. I liked Jack. I really, really liked him. There were even a few moments last night, when he had been looking into my eyes, the two of us connecting not just physically but mentally too, when I thought I might even be falling in love with him.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  But I couldn’t really believe that he was married. It didn’t make sense. That wasn’t the kind of information you could keep secret. If he was married, I would have known. The world would have known. Someone would have told me. If not just for my own personal edification, but for the book as well.

  The book.

  I sat down at my kitchen table and opened my laptop. It was good. The book was really, really good. And suddenly my spirits lifted. If I could show Jack the book, if I could prove to him that I knew him, that I was doing everything I could to make this book the best thing it could be, then maybe he’d see how much I cared.

  The book was the key. I had a feeling, a strong feeling, about it. All I had to do was write an incredible book. If anyone understood the importance of creating something special, of putting your whole self into a product, it would be Jack. He would read the book and see how hard I worked to make something for him. I could show him how I felt through words, through this biography. He would read it and see that I was someone who cared about him. Who maybe even loved him.

  I sat down and started writing.

  Chapter 25

  LIBBY

  I lost track of time. I was on a roll, the words spilling from me as if they were meant to be. The book was becoming something special, something incredible. Something that Jack could be proud of. It was exactly what I wanted for him. Exactly what I knew he would appreciate. Something I knew he would understand.

  Because I knew Jack. Despite everything – his cold and standoffish nature, his fiercely guarded privacy – I knew him. I understood him. And I put all of that in the book. Put all the conflicting, exciting and terrifying things I felt for him in the book. I put myself in the book. It was just as much a part of me as it was a part of him. And I couldn’t wait for him to read it.

  Just as I was about to send it off to Jack, I got a text from him.

  CAN YOU COME TO THE OFFICE THIS AFTERNOON? It asked.

  I swore. I should have been at the office that morning, but I had been so caught up in writing that I had lost track of time. A good sign for the book, but not for an employee who was expected at a certain place at a certain time.

  I quickly ran spellcheck and then decided that in addition to sending the manuscript to Jack, I would also print out the first chapter so he could have a hard copy of it. For someone who seemed to value what he could touch, I had a feeling he would appreciate it.

  With the chapter tucked under my arm and the rest of the manuscript on a thumb drive, I headed to Jack’s office, practically vibrating with excitement. I couldn’t wait for him to read it. Couldn’t wait to see his face when he finished. I had never been so proud of something I had written before, and I was so ready to share it with him.

  Even the security guard’s sour face couldn’t tamp down my anticipation and I found myself skipping into the elevator. An elevator which seemed to be moving at a ridiculously slow speed. I rocked back and forth on my heels, willing it to go faster, willing it to get me to Jack sooner.

  I was already imagining what would happen. He would look at me with that serious – and still damn sexy – look of his. The one that he wore in the office, the one that told everyone around him that he meant business. The one that usually softened into a smile, and then could burn me up with the passion that flared in his eyes when he looked at me. I got shivers just remembering the intensity of his gaze each time we had gone out. Each time we had been together. That was the real Jack.

  And although that Jack wasn’t one I was ready to share with the world, I still felt that I had captured a side of him that not many people got to see. One that did justice to the amazing man that he was – the heart behind the brain. I had a feeling that the country would fall in love with him all over again when they read this book, but for a totally different reason. I had made him human on the page. He wasn’t just the smart car wunderkind that everyone knew. Not just the billionaire playboy. He was a kind, sweet man, with a sense of humo
r and a passion for doing what was right. The world didn’t know that side of him. But they would now.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours, the elevator arrived at his floor. I continued my skipping, though I managed to tone it down as I approached Mrs. Reynolds’s desk. I liked and respected Jack’s secretary a lot, and I didn’t think that skipping over to her would help her think of me in a serious fashion.

  But when I arrived in front of her, the look she gave me made everything inside me freeze. Mrs. Reynolds was a smart, serious woman who knew what she was doing. She was also kind and welcoming. At least, she had been in the past few days.

  Not now. She could barely look me in the eye.

  Something was wrong.

  All my fears from that morning returned. I didn’t know what was going on, but it seemed like I was the only one out of the loop. Was Jack married? The room started spinning around me and I thought I might be sick.

  “He’s waiting for you,” Mrs. Reynolds told me, gesturing towards Jack’s office door, still not looking at me.

  “Thank you,” I croaked, hoping that my legs would be able to take me there without collapsing beneath me.

  Jack was sitting behind his desk, but suddenly it felt like a mountain between us.

  “Libby.”

  At least he could look me in the eye.

  “Are you married?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I seemed to have difficulty controlling myself around him. It was probably that exact problem that had gotten me into this kind of trouble.

  “What?” Jack’s face showed his surprise.

  “The phone call this morning.” Words spilled out of my mouth, uncontrolled and unexamined. “Was that your wife? Have you been lying to me? Have you been married this whole time?”

  Jack stood, his hands flat on the desk.

  “You have some nerve coming in here and calling me a liar,” he told me, his voice flat and cold.

  My heart seized in my chest.

  “Excuse me?” I somehow choked out, not expecting that reaction at all.

  “I know what you did,” he accused, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Over the chest, I had been draped over, both of us naked, breathless and sweating – less than twenty-four hours before.

  “What I did?” I was confused and hurt.

  “You spoke to Mac,” Jack told me, his lips fixed in a frown.

  It took a moment for his words to sink in, and then a small, stuttering laugh left me.

  “Is that why you’re upset?” I asked.

  His frown deepened, and he didn’t say anything. I felt a panic rush over me.

  “I just wanted to interview him for the book,” I explained. “I thought you said you didn’t mind.”

  “I didn’t mind,” Jack narrowed his eyes. “Until you used our relationship to get personal information out of my best friend.”

  I was stunned. My legs finally gave out, and I sank into the chair in front of Jack’s desk.

  “I didn’t use our relationship to do anything,” I told him. “I didn’t even tell Mac that we were in a relationship.”

  It seemed ridiculous that I would have spoken to a stranger about my connection with Jack when I didn’t even know how to define it myself. The whole thing seemed to be blown way out of proportion, but Jack didn’t appear to agree.

  “How did he know, then?” Jack’s words were angry.

  “I don’t know!” I wanted to throw up my hands. “And it’s not as if he told me any of your deep, dark secrets,” I shot back.

  “I don’t have a wife,” he retorted. “I thought you knew me well enough to know that I’d never fool around on someone I cared about.”

  I didn’t know if he meant he cared about me, or he cared about the fictional wife in the scenario we were arguing over. Somehow I got the sense that it wasn’t me he was referring to. That sick feeling settled deeper in my stomach.

  “I thought I knew you well enough.” I felt as if the world had been turned upside down. “But every time I get close, you seem to throw up another wall. And if it wasn’t your wife on the phone this morning, then who was it? Who are you saying ‘I love you’ to, the first thing in the morning?”

  “I’m not having this conversation with you,” Jack said stubbornly, walking back around his desk and sitting down. The distance between us grew – the desk now representing an insurmountable wall between us.

  “You’re the one who summoned me to your office.” I was unable to keep the snark out of my voice. It was better than the tears that seemed to be gathering in my eyes. I wouldn’t cry in front of him. I wouldn’t. “Obviously you wanted to have a conversation about something.”

  “I did.” Jack leaned back, trying to look casual, but I could see the tightness in his neck and jaw. He was just as upset as I was, but he wasn’t going to show it. He was going to ignore it. He was going to ignore everything that had happened between us.

  “You’re done,” Jack told me.

  I blinked at him. “Done?”

  “With the book,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “I don’t want you working on it anymore. It was a terrible idea and I never should have hired you.”

  Everything inside me seemed to shrink into nothingness.

  “What are you saying?” I asked, even though I knew. But I wanted him to say it. I wanted him to have to say it to my face.

  He did not disappoint, though he also couldn’t look at me when he said it.

  “You’re fired.”

  Chapter 26

  LIBBY

  Somehow I got back to my apartment. I had absolutely no memory of it, nor did I have any recollection of calling Georgia, but when I got home, she was there waiting for me with a hug, a pint of ice cream, and a box of wine. A big box.

  I managed to hold back the tears until we were inside, but once the lock was turned, I lost it. I sank to the floor, sobbing, my entire being shaken from my core. What had happened? How had things gone wrong so quickly? Hadn’t it just been last night that I was in Jack’s arms feeling more beautiful and cherished than I ever had in my life?

  Georgia knelt down next to me and stroked my back before helping me back to my feet. She led me to the couch, and then disappeared into the kitchen, only to return with two spoons and glasses. Not wine glasses. Just regular glasses. Without saying a word, she cracked open the boxed wine and filled my tumbler to the top. I took a long drink, and then when half of my glass was gone, she handed me the ice cream and a spoon and then refilled my cup.

  When half the ice cream and most of the wine was gone, I finally felt ready to talk.

  “He dumped me,” I told Georgia. “And he fired me.”

  Her eyebrows went up and I realized that I hadn’t really been keeping her abreast of all the romantic developments that had happened between Jack and me. But it had all happened so quickly and I had enjoyed keeping it to myself. Had enjoyed the secret of it all. Now, I was pretty damn annoyed at myself – and Jack – for the obsessive need for secrecy. Why would you hide something – or someone – you care about?

  “I think you need to start at the beginning,” Georgia said quietly.

  So I told her about everything that had happened with Jack, though I left out some of the more intimate details. Mainly because it hurt too much too recall them. I didn’t want to linger on the memory of being held by him. Of being kissed by him. Being touched by him.

  “You really care for him, don’t you?” Georgia asked when I finished talking about everything that had transpired on the romantic front.

  I snorted. “No,” I denied emphatically. “Because that would be ridiculous. I barely know him. Who falls in love with someone they barely know?”

  Georgia was silent for a moment.

  “I didn’t say anything about love,” she reminded me.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I buried my head in my couch cushions. Mr Mistoffelees took this as the perfect opportunity to jump up on the sofa, and then onto my head. Thankfully,
Georgia extracted him before he could force me to smother myself with the pillow. Not that it sounded like such a bad idea now.

  Because I was a moron. I had fallen in love with Jack.

  It was officially the dumbest thing I could have done.

  “What am I going to do?” I wailed, pressing my face into the pillow again.

  “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the two of you together,” Georgia told me. “From what I’ve read about him, he doesn’t seem like your type at all. Except for being ridiculously gorgeous, which is every woman’s type.”

  “He’s not my type,” I readily agreed. “He’s cold and closed off and obsessed with keeping secrets and totally obsessed with his work and yet I’m completely, utterly, head over heels in love with him.”

  “That is not good.” Georgia let out a low whistle.

  “I know!” I screamed into my pillow.

  “But if things were going so well between the two of you, what happened that changed it? Why did he fire you?” Georgia prompted, making me realize I still had a good portion of the story to tell her.

  I needed more wine and more ice cream to get the rest of it out. Luckily there was a bottle in the fridge and a fudge bar in the freezer. Georgia continued to solidify her position as best friend in the entire world by not even asking to share the fudge bar and opening the wine and pouring me another glass.

  I already knew I was going to be hurting in the morning, but I was hurting now. A hangover couldn’t be any worse than heartache. Especially a heartache over the worst person in the world to give your heart to.

  Once the fudge bar was gone, I told Georgia about going to see Mac, and how we had talked about Jack. How it had inspired me. Then I told her about the phone call I had overheard that morning. Her forehead scrunched up as she frowned, but she didn’t say anything. Then I told her how I had gone home and finished the book.