by R.S. Grey
“Exactly.”
“When can we move in?” she asked, glancing up at me with her bright hazel eyes.
I smiled. “Next week if we incentivize the landlord. It’ll take a few months to renovate, so the sooner we’re in, the better,” I said.
“Let’s do it then.” She dropped the folder and stared up at me, her features infused with excitement for the first time in months. “Next topic.”
I nearly slept with your one and only employee and now I’m worried she’s going to quit and leave us high and dry.
“Julian?” Lorena asked, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Oh, um,” I scanned down our itinerary, unable to focus on a single line.
“Did you talk to Mom? Is that why you’re off?”
My gaze shot back up to her. “No?”
“You still haven’t seen her since you’ve been in town?”
She seemed surprised.
“Why would I see Mom?”
Lorena flattened her hands across the edge of the table, collecting her thoughts. I settled into my chair, prepared for a lecture. When she pushed her glasses up onto the top of her head, I knew I was really in for it.
“I am the first person to throw Mom under the bus. Believe me, I barely like her at this point.”
For good reason. Lucy Lefray was from New York royalty. She’d grown up around the Vanderbilts and the Rockefellers in the upper echelon of wealth, lived the life reserved for the top one percent of the one percent. From a young age, she’d groomed me to run a Fortune 500 company and marry some suitable socialite by the age of twenty-five. Lorena? My mother could hardly look at her. A fashion designer? Lorena might as well have been a prostitute for the way my mom sneered at her. I can still remember the day Lorena dyed her hair for the first time. My mother didn’t leave her room for a week. She acted as if Lorena had killed the family pet. Lorena had added blonde highlights to her brown hair. The horror.
“So if we both don’t like her then it’s settled.” I smiled and scanned down the list of items left to discuss.
Lorena cleared her throat until I finally looked up and met her eye. “She’s older now, Julian. Her edges are starting to soften and I think it would mean a lot if you stopped by to see her, or at the very least, let her know you’re back in town. It’d break her heart to realize that you’re in New York and you don’t even care to see her.”
“I’ll shoot her a text message.”
“Julian,” Lorena chastised.
I held up my hands. “Fine. I’ll think about it, Lorena. I have a lot on my mind, least of which is whether or not I should try to schedule a tea time with Mom.”
Lorena smiled and picked up her itinerary.
“Perfect. Okay, on to topic number two. I think it’s about time for me to meet our Employee of the Month!”
Jesus Christ. Someone get me a beer.
Chapter Twenty-One
Josephine
It was the Monday after the “boating incident” where I’d almost let Julian ravish me below the deck—no pun intended—and I was not prepared to go into work. I had the same kind of dread in my stomach that built up right before I had to wax my hoohah before swim season.
I took my time applying my makeup, trying to relax myself. I’d called Lily the night before to get her opinion on the matter, but she’d only made me feel worse.
I think a part of her was shocked that I’d let it go that far.
“The plan was for you to move to New York so you could get a job and an apartment before I move up there in a few months. This plan did not include sleeping with your boss. Don’t you see how that could not only jeopardize your career at Lorena Lefray Designs but also EVERYWHERE else in the entire city? Seriously, Jo, is his penis made of pure gold? Ivory? Does it sparkle? Because sleeping with him cannot be worth more than your career in fashion. Think about it.”
“I know that! You don’t have to tell me that,” I huffed into the phone. “Don’t you think I’m already panicking enough as is? He was drunk and I almost took full advantage of him!”
Lily didn’t believe that for a second.
“You two have been circling around each other like a couple of bloodthirsty sharks. You did not take advantage of him.”
I groaned.
“Just focus on what’s important, Jo. I’ll be moving up in a month and then you won’t have to hang out with Julian anymore. You’ll have me.”
Just hearing her reassure me that she was headed to New York melted away most of my anxiety. I needed her in New York. I needed reinforcements. If Lily had been with me on that boat, I never would have let it go that far with Julian.
“Once I have the money saved for a bus ticket and first month’s rent, I’m there,” Lily said.
I made her swear to that promise.
After we’d hung up, I’d made a promise with myself not to screw up the opportunity that had fallen into my lap. There were any number of outcomes that could happen if Julian and I decided to pursue some kind of relationship. All but one of them ended in a break-up and my inevitable termination from the company. Truthfully, I knew I only had one option: I would continue on as Julian’s employee and his friend, nothing more. We’d be cordial, I’d get my job done, impress him, and move my way up in the world.
I couldn’t let this job slip through my fingers. I had debt collectors at my door, next month’s rent to worry about, and Lily couldn’t move to New York if I was unemployed. I owed it to her to commit to the position I’d been given, even if that included putting my love life on the backburner for the time being. This conclusion meant that I had to be upfront with Julian.
I huffed out a breath of air and pushed off the counter to pick out the most conservative outfit I could find. I settled on a loose pair of slacks and a boring, gray blouse that completely hid away every ounce of cleavage. I pulled my hair into a low bun and slipped on a pair of flats. Hopefully the message I was trying to send would come across loud and clear. Me = employee. You = boss. Even a caveman could understand that.
By the time I started my trek to work, I was still trying to push aside stray memories from the boat. One particularly vivid image—Julian gripping my hands in place above my head—had just played out in my mind when my phone vibrated in my pocket. My hand shook as I reached in my purse, assuming it would be Julian calling.
It wasn’t.
My mother’s face lit up my small screen and my stomach dropped. I hadn’t talked to her in weeks and this was the precise moment she chose to call me? I veered off to the side of the sidewalk and leaned against the side of a building to try to drown out a bit of the street noise.
“Hello?” I asked after the call connected.
“Josie. It’s Mom. Is this a good time to talk?”
I stared out across the sidewalk. Technically, I had ten minutes until I was supposed to be at work and I was already a block away from Julian’s hotel. I had no excuse.
“Yes. Yeah, can you hear me all right?”
The morning streets were full of honking taxis and bustling pedestrians scurrying to work as quickly as possible. Chances were it sounded like I was in the middle of a circus.
“Yes. I have you on speakerphone over here so your dad can hear too.”
I smiled. “Hi Dad.”
“Hi Jos,” he chimed in.
I hadn’t heard from either of them in a month and now they were calling me together? Something was up.
“How are you getting on in New York?” she asked.
“Good,” I replied, treading lightly.
“We read up on the news every day. Looks like someone gets mugged or killed every night of the week up there.”
And yet they didn’t think it was necessary to check up on me until now…
“Yeah, but I don’t walk around at night and I always have pepper spray on me.”
“You know you wouldn’t need that pepper spray back home…” my mother mumbled.
You’re right, ‘cause I’d hurl myself off a
bridge from sheer boredom before I ever got the chance to use it.
“How are things at the shop, Dad?” I asked, ignoring my mom’s little dig.
“Oh, same as always. Slow, but steady.”
“Slow but steady” could have been the motto of my entire hometown. Seriously.
“Well we just wanted to check up on you. I know you’re busy with all of those New York dreams of yours… will you be making it home anytime soon? Maybe for your dad’s sixtieth next month?”
Guilt clawed its way up my vocal cords until I had to clear my throat just to be sure I could still talk.
“I’ll try. Really.”
I knew I was making false promises, but I couldn’t tell them the truth. I had so many people watching and waiting for me to fail. I’m sure every single person in my hometown had placed a bet on how long I’d manage to stay in New York before crawling my way back home. They’d all taken it as almost a personal insult that I’d wanted to leave and make something of my life. They’d sleep a little better at night knowing that I’d gone out to fulfill my dreams and landed face first in the dirt.
Why?
Because it meant that every time they got the urge to reach for more, to dream a little bit bigger, they could rest easy in their ranch-style house, with their .2 acres of land and their 2.5 children, knowing they’d made the right decision—the proper decision—while “that ol’ Josephine Keller wasted her youth on foolish dreams.”
I’d be damned if I let them see me fail.
“Listen Mom, I gotta go. I need to get to work. I’ll let you know if I’ll be able to come home next month.”
Before she could reply, I hung up and shoved my phone back into my purse. Fierce determination coursed through my veins. All memories of the boat ride were packed away and shoved below. For now, I needed to focus on myself.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Josephine
Open laptop, read emails, order breakfast, pour coffee, avoid eye contact, stay at least two feet away from Julian, and for god sake’s stop remembering what it felt like when he kissed you.
I’d been working at Julian’s hotel for fifteen minutes and my resolve was already slipping. I’d felt confident when I’d stood outside his door and knocked twice. My shoulders were pushed back and my head was held high. Then, Julian had opened the hotel room door and sucked the confidence right out of me with no effort at all. He was wearing a fitted navy suit, brown belt, and sleek brown shoes. The top button of his white shirt was undone and his midnight black hair was still slightly damp, like he’d just stepped out of the shower minutes earlier.
He’d ushered me inside and I’d mumbled a greeting, averting my eyes so that I could keep hold of what little resolve I had left.
For the first fifteen minutes of my being there, neither one of us had said a word.
“More coffee?” he asked¸ breaking the silence with an offer I couldn’t refuse.
I nodded and he rounded the couch to pour more medium roast into my mug as I held it up for him. His shoes hit the hardwood floor and with every step, I felt my nerves ratchet up another notch.
I stared at my computer screen, all the while trying to concentrate on where he was in proximity to me. He was busying himself with something behind me and I tried to think of what our normal working life was like. Normally, I’d have turned around and asked him about his weekend, how his Sunday had gone, but there was no way I’d open up that line of discussion.
“You’re quiet this morning,” he said as he stepped back around the couch and took a seat across from me.
My stomach fluttered.
“Am I?” I asked, not meeting his eye.
I could see him smirk out of the corner of my eye.
“I’m just thinking about work things,” I muttered.
He nodded, studying me in a way that made chills creep down my spine.
“So are we going to talk about—”
“Julian.” I held up my hand to cut him off before he could utter another word. “Let’s just concentrate on work and we can talk about this another time, maybe when I’m not on the clock.”
His smirk slipped away. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that response.
“So even though you and I almost—”
I clenched my jaw and gripped the edges of my laptop. “Julian, please. It’s complicated.”
His calm eyes, the eyes that had greeted me at the door fifteen minutes earlier were gone, replaced with a brewing storm behind dark brows.
I thought he’d push the subject, draw up memories that I was intent on pushing aside for the next eight hours, but he didn’t. He opened his laptop in silence and we got to work. For hours, we fired off emails and read through contracts for the space we wanted to rent. I began calling architecture firms around town, explaining our project and scheduling initial design meetings.
We didn’t utter a word to each other unless it was directly work related. His tone was distant and cold. I could hardly meet his eye, even if he was only firing off the names of firms he wanted me to get in contact with. I hated every minute of it, but it was the way it had to be.
After lunch, I settled back into my seat and pulled up the email I’d started to draft before running down for a sandwich.
“The other night, I went to this ice cream shop down the street from my hotel,” Julian began, pulling my attention from my computer.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Do you ever really crave ice cream?” he asked, a hint of a smile covering his lips.
What the hell is he talking about?
“Uh, sure, I guess.”
“Well, I really wanted some the other night, so I went down to this shop and stood in line. It took forever to get to the front to order. It almost felt like I’d been waiting there for weeks.”
I arched a brow. “Sounds like you should have just picked up some ice cream from 7-Eleven.”
He smiled. “I couldn’t. It had to be this ice cream.”
I narrowed my eyes in confusion but held my tongue.
“So anyway,” he continued, “I got to the front of the line and I asked to sample the flavor I’d been eyeing—y’know, just to get a little taste.”
“Mmm,” I hummed. “You’re going into way too much detail about ice cream.”
He ignored me.
“And after I’d had that tiny sample, I knew I wanted more. It tasted amazing, just like I’d known it would. So I asked for two perfectly round scoops in a waffle cone.”
“Okay. That’s the weirdest way I’ve ever heard someone describe—”
“But you know what happened right after I paid and walked out of the shop?”
“You realized you were being really weird about ice cream?” I joked.
He laughed. “No. I leaned in to take my first bite, tripped, and the entire ice cream cone fell to the ground. Can you believe that? Right before I really got to enjoy it.”
I stared at him, mouth in a thin line, annoyance building within me.
“I know what you’re doing,” I said.
“Has that ever happened to you before?” His gaze held mine as he teased me. “Have you ever been so close to getting something you’ve been craving, only to have it ripped right out from under you before you can really savor it?”
I stood up and carried my laptop toward the bathroom. “I asked you not to talk about it, Julian. Not during work. I have to take this job seriously. Do you?”
“Jo—”
“This job means everything to me. Can’t you see that?”
Before he could answer, I continued.
“I can’t blame you for being confused about my priorities. We’ve both crossed the line from the very beginning. I assumed I could have my cake and eat it too, but now that the choices are right in front of me, I know I have to choose my job over you. I can’t afford to be fired.”
The image of moving home and working at the town Dairy Queen was enough of a reality check to set me straight. No more fooling ar
ound.
He stood and held up his hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I’ve got to run some errands anyway, so don’t stuff yourself in the bathroom. You can stay right where you are. I promise that when I get back I’ll be on my best behavior.”
He stepped closer and bent to find my eyes.
“Okay?” he asked.
I hated that I could smell his body wash. I hated that I had to tell him lies, when inside, deep down, I wanted to continue right where we’d left off on the boat.
Being an adult sucks.
I stayed right where I was as he walked out of the room, letting the door fall closed behind him with a heavy thud. When he was gone and I had the entire hotel room to myself, I finally felt like I could breathe again. I pulled up my work calendar and started hammering away at each item. From then on, I was going to impress Julian with my work ethic, not my bra size.
Julian was still out running errands when his hotel phone rang late in the afternoon. I’d attached his phone number to a few of the emails I’d sent out to architecture firms, so I didn’t hesitate to answer the phone. If they were already getting back to us, it was a good sign that they were in need of work.
“Hello, this is Josephine Keller,” I answered, poised with a pen, ready to take notes.
“Josephine?” a shrewd voice asked on the other end of the line. “Who are you? My son’s girlfriend?”
I nearly dropped the phone. The feminine voice was crystal clear and confident, with an air of aristocracy laced through every syllable.
Holy shit. It’s Julian’s mother…
“Oh, no. No,” I clarified. “I’m his personal assistant.”
She cleared her throat, clearly annoyed.
“And yet you’re in his hotel room, answering his phone?” Her tone said it all.
I fidgeted in my seat as if she were there, staring me down. “Oh, yes, it’s just that we… he and I have been working from his hotel room while we try to find an office space.”
Nothing about the situation was suspicious and yet I sounded guilty even to my own ears.
