He nods to the one on the right then to a small white paper bag on top of the mini fridge. "Cream and sugar. There's milk in the office kitchen if you prefer that."
"This is fine." I fix my coffee with two packets of half and half and two of brown sugar. "No bagels?"
He looks at me like he's trying to figure out if I'm teasing.
"I'm kidding." I look up at Nick, motioning to my coat. "Is there some place where I should put this?"
"Anywhere is fine."
Doubtful. His office is incredibly neat. I didn't notice before, but it's well decorated. The minimalist artwork is abstract shapes in bold colors. They match the clean white walls and the sleek black desk.
I set my coat on the couch. Such a nice couch. It would be so easy for him to throw me onto it, to pull up my skirt and roll down my tights and—
Jesus, I need to get hold of myself.
I take a sip and set my coffee at the end of the desk. It's currently in standing mode. "The apartment looks beautiful. Do you have a decorator?"
"I made the selections."
"Oh." I look around the room. It's put together. Mostly black and white with hints of color. "Your office too?"
He nods. "I dabble in design." He pulls something up on the computer and points the monitor to me. "My second startup was an education website. I asked the user interface designer to teach me everything she knew."
I look through the gallery of screenshots. Nick's second startup. The design is clean but it's sterile.
"You don't like it." He adjusts the desk, lowering it a few inches so it's more at my level.
"It's nice, but it doesn't feel like you the way the office does."
"Are you okay with standing?"
"Sure. Can I take off my shoes?" I motion to my black pumps. Not the most comfortable for standing.
"Of course."
I slide out of my shoes and press my toes into the squishy anti-fatigue mat. It must be so handy having a desk that can be any height you want. There are so many possibilities. I clear my throat. "Would you teach me about design if I asked?"
"Yes, but I can find someone who knows more. I mostly learned from my mother. She was an artist. Her work was modern."
"Like the guy with the paintings that are all one color?"
"Ellseworth Kelly."
"Yeah! That's it." One of the paintings catches my eye. "That's him, isn't it?"
He nods.
"He has the one at the Met—the huge, single color paintings that make up a rainbow. My sister thinks it's genius."
"And you?"
"I don't really get art." I recall a dozen rainy afternoons Kat and I spent walking around the Met. The way her eyes lit up at her favorite paintings. It was quite the revenge for forcing her to watch so much sci-fi. I didn't mind tagging along with her, not when it made her so happy.
His hand brushes against my side.
I try to find the meaning in Nick's expression. There's nothing there. He's not all business, but he's still ninety percent business. The other ten percent is platonic at best.
"Design is all about creating a feeling in the user." He points to the painting in the corner—it's an abstract shape in a royal blue. "What does that color make you feel?"
"It's bold."
"What about the shape?"
"It's calming but dangerous. Like the ocean. A wave even." I look back to him. "Did I get it right?"
"This isn't programming. There is no right answer." He directions my attention to the code on screen.
"What's your office supposed to feel like?"
"Power and sophistication."
"To intimidate people?"
"Not exactly."
"My apartment?"
"Softness. Purple is your favorite color, isn't it?"
"How did you know?"
"You wear it almost every day."
I look down at my outfit. My dress and shoes are black but my tights are purple. A mental check of my wardrobe suggests he's correct. Half my clothing is purple.
He pays attention to my clothing.
My heartbeat picks up. His eyes are wide. His lips are curled into the tiniest smile.
He's interested in me.
I know he is.
He shifts like he's uncomfortable. His attention goes to the screen. "Why don't you explain what you see here?"
I turn to the code and explain the best I can. Nick listens intently, nodding and explaining every technical detail. The further we get into work mode, the closer he gets to me. Until he's right behind me, his hand hovering over mine, his chest inches behind my back.
He's warm. He smells good. That hint of cologne and Nick. I hold my breath so I won't react in a way that convinces him I can't handle this. I can already tell I'll learn a lot from him.
When we break, Nick takes a huge step back. He shakes his head like he lost track of himself. Is it possible he didn't realize how close he was? That his body was taking over?
There might be some wiggle room between forgetting about that night and him firing me for pushing matters.
I try to focus on our lesson, but I keep getting distracted. His jaw is so strong. His lips are so soft. His eyes are such a lovely shade of brown.
By 10AM, I'm exhausted. Half from the intensity of the work, half from the proximity of his body. I slip into a coding trance for most of the day. When I surface, Nick is checking my work, still so close, still so strong and hard and soft all at once.
***
There are bagels on his desk. Two bagels, each on a paper plate, each dotted with cream cheese. One is onion. One is sesame.
Nick is standing behind his computer, cool and confident and utterly untouchable. He looks so handsome. I try to remind myself that I hate him for writing me off. It's coffee and a bagel. It's not a love letter. It's not an apology. It's breakfast.
He bought me breakfast.
It's sweet.
He nods to the bagels. "Your call."
I pick sesame. "You really shouldn't eat bagels. They're nothing but empty carbs."
"I swim two miles a day."
"No wonder you have such broad shoulders." Crap. That was out loud. My inhibitions aren't at full strength yet. It's too early in the morning for them to catch up to my mouth. "Where do you swim?"
"There's a lap pool in my building."
I pull my bagel into quarters then eighths. "I practice yoga for an hour every day. Sometimes two."
"For your back?"
"That's how it started. But then I liked how it forced me to focus on my body." I take a bite of my bagel, chew, and swallow. "I hope you don't have a lunch date. Onions will ruin your breath."
He stares at me with a look that says try a little harder with the subtlety. Okay, I'm reading into that. But there is understanding in his eyes.
"I don't date." He opens a file on his computer. "I don't have time."
"Do you have time for anything fun? Besides exercise?"
"This isn't a productive area of conversation."
He takes a bite of his bagel. Somehow, he does it gracefully. He motions to his computer.
"That's a no." I smirk.
"I'll tell you if you find a way to improve this code."
He steps aside. My ass brushes against his crotch as we switch positions. His fingertips skim my lower back. I check his expression. It doesn't help me figure out his intentions.
It takes twenty minutes of concentration, but I find something. I point to it. "Here. This function is redundant."
He smiles like he's proud of me. "I play poker."
"For real money?"
"It's not about the money. It's about the game."
"Right. What's the entry fee?"
"Depends on the game. Anything from twenty dollars to twenty thousand."
"But mostly the twenty thousand?"
"Usually, around a hundred dollars."
I examine his expression for any signs he's lying. There are none. It's awfully democratic of Nick, playing an
y poker game that will have him. "Isn't gambling illegal?"
"Call the vice squad."
"You're all about rules and order. You're the most lawful person I've ever met."
"Lawful?"
"Don't tell me you don't know lawful versus chaotic! You run a tech company. You're obsessed with AI"
"I'm sorry to break your stereotypes." He half-smiles.
"People who are lawful honor their personal code. Say, a code to never sleep with an employee."
"Lizzy—"
"Mr. Marlowe."
He shifts. "Don't push me."
"It was an example. Not everything is about you."
He shakes his head and shifts back into work mode.
He's six inches away.
Then three.
His hand brushes against my side as he points at his computer. Once again, I look to his expression for some clue to his intention.
Nothing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I spend the weekend trying to forget about my crush. I wake up early Monday morning and do enough yoga to exhaust all my energy.
The second I see Nick standing behind his desk, his tie undone, his jacket tossed aside, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows—I melt. Is he teasing me or getting comfortable? Hard to tell.
There's breakfast, again. Two sesame bagels this time. Coffee on the desk. Packets of sugar and half and half on the mini fridge.
We spend the morning working and making small talk. We take turns adding comments about robot overthrows of the government to the code.
***
It's the same all week. He has breakfast. He stands so, so close to me. He flirts just enough to drive me crazy.
I spend another weekend trying to burn off energy. This time, I volunteer to follow Kat to every museum in the city. I keep myself busy for every spare minute, but I still fall asleep thinking about Nick.
By week three, I can't take it anymore. I go out dancing with Sarah and get home too drunk to care about anything but making my point.
I text Nick's personal number.
Lizzy: I need some DVDs. Movies about artificial intelligence. To inspire me.
Nick: Like what?
Lizzy: The Matrix trilogy. The first two Terminator movies. Battlestar Galactica, the new one. Ex Machina. You'd like it. It's all about a robot who manipulates men using her sexuality.
Nick: Do robots have sexuality?
Lizzy: I should ask you. You're about as close to a robot as I've ever seen. You've seen Judgment Day, right? You must relate to the Terminator.
Nick: I haven't seen it.
Lizzy: Really?
Nick: Really. Would you rather get a rise out of me or keep your job?
Lizzy: Permission to speak freely, Sir.
Nick: Permission granted.
Lizzy: Right now, I'd rather get a rise out of you. I'm drunk and frustrated. Are you at the office?
Nick: Yes.
Lizzy: I can come over there. We can have this conversation in person.
Nick: That's unwise.
Lizzy: Why?
Nick: You know why.
My cheeks flush. It's practically a confession. For Nick at least. He might as well say because I want to fuck you.
Lizzy: No, I don't.
Nick: Even if things were different, I don't fuck drunk women.
Lizzy: Why not?
Nick: It's my policy.
Lizzy: And if I was sober?
Nick: Don't play coy. I respect you too much to bullshit you. I hope you feel the same towards me.
Lizzy: I want to read the words.
Nick: It will only make you want it more.
Lizzy: So? Sometimes it's good to want things. Reminds you that you're alive. Why can't I come back to the office? Why can't we have this conversation in person?
Nick: Because you want to fuck me.
Lizzy: And?
Nick: And I want to rip your panties off, pin you to the couch, and fuck you until you scream.
Fuck. Heat passes through me. I rub my eyes to make sure I'm not seeing things. I'm not.
Nick: Do you feel better?
Lizzy: No.
Nick: How do you feel?
Lizzy: Deprived. Was that to prove a point?
Nick: Yes, but it was true.
Lizzy: I'll come over right now. No one has to know.
Nick: You want to work under me or you want to fuck me?
Lizzy: Both.
Nick: You only get one.
Lizzy: Fine. I'll be good. I'll come to the office and only talk about movies. Have you seen the first Terminator movie?
Nick: Never.
Lizzy: Battlestar Galactica?
Nick: I only watch police procedurals.
Lizzy: Why?
Nick: Because I like them.
Lizzy: Ooh, sassy today. I like it.
Nick: Drink some water before you go to bed.
Lizzy: You'll have to come over and watch with me.
Nick: No.
Lizzy: Okay, fine. Do you want me to explain about Judgment Day?
Nick: Not particularly.
Lizzy: You're like the robot. On the outside at least. I never have a clue what you’re thinking or what you want.
Nick: I want to be unreadable.
Lizzy: Why?
Nick: I have to get back to work. I'll have your DVDs shipped to your apartment.
Lizzy: Will you watch one with me? If we do it at the office?
Nick: I'll consider it.
Lizzy: I'm sorry I said you're a robot. I don't really think that. I'm just frustrated.
Nick: I know. I'm frustrated too.
Lizzy: Really?
Nick: Go to bed. It's getting late.
Lizzy: I can't. It makes me think about you picking out the comforter, thinking about me here, what we could do.
Nick: Good night.
Lizzy: Good night.
***
Friday morning is awkward. I discuss nothing but the project.
At ten, I gather my things to go back to my desk. No more Nick for two whole days. It feels like a long time.
"I'll check your work early tonight," he says. "I have a meeting."
"A date?"
He stares at me like he's saying don't push it.
I don't.
"A meeting with a colleague. I need to leave by six if I want to arrive at his hotel in time."
"That doesn't sound like a very professional meeting. I didn't realize you were willing to get on your back for your company like that."
He stares back, totally humorless.
"It's a joke. I know you wouldn't sleep your way to the top."
He nods. "I'll stop by your desk around five."
"Let me check one thing in the code first."
He steps aside.
I wait for him to turn away and check his calendar.
Meeting with Zachary, 6:30PM.
There's an address. I commit it to memory and close the window.
"Would you like something?" He rifles through the fridge.
"No thank you. I'll see you later."
I lock myself in the bathroom and call Sarah. She doesn't pick up until the third time I call.
"I have to start opening the store in five minutes. Make it quick. I'm hung over," she says.
"I need your help tonight."
"With?"
"A guy."
"Text me a time and place and I'm there, sweet thang."
***
Sarah and I arrive at the hotel at six-fifteen. We find the lounge, order drinks, and get cozy. Like it's a coincidence that we're here right when Nick is scheduled to show up.
"This would go much easier if you just asked him to fuck you." She sips her cherry red fruit flavored martini. "Less games."
"I'm not trying to fuck him."
"Then what are we doing here?"
"It seemed like a good idea this morning." I polish off my rum and diet and signal the bartender for another. "He was so clear, Sarah. H
e told me that he'd fire me if I pushed this. What am I doing?"
"Easy, tiger. He can't control what you do off the clock. Is there anything wrong with meeting your friend for a drink?"
"Not if you're twenty-one."
She smirks. "That dress is pure sex. By the end of the night, he'll be desperate to fuck you. He'll be begging to get his hands on that zipper."
The cocktail waitress drops off our next round. I nod a thank you and get to work on polishing off this glass. My hands are shaking. It's not like me. I only get nervous when I have to get in a car. Not about boys.
But Nick isn't a boy.
He's a man. One with enough power to destroy me.
"Slow down, honey. You want to be sexy, not sloppy." Sarah pulls my drink away. She adjusts my dress a smidge. Motions for me to take off my coat.
I do. I hang it off my chair. We're at a table that seats four. So we can invite Nick and his friend to join us. Since it's so funny that we accidentally ran into them.
No way this fools Nick.
"If you do get him wrapped around your finger, how about you take him to Pixie Dust and clean out the store? I could use the commission. And we have a couple of fuck me dresses like the one you're wearing." She finishes her first drink. Her gaze goes to the entrance doors. "Tall, dark, and handsome man in a suit. Fuck the whole ‘he'll fire you’ thing. He's hotter than I remembered."
I stay put in my seat, so I can play this whole thing casual.
His footsteps move closer. Then he's five feet away, staring at me. For a moment, his gaze is curious. Then it's filled with understanding.
"Lizzy's boss, right?" Sarah stands and offers her hand. "I'm not sure if you recall—"
"Sarah. I'm Phoenix." He shakes her hand, his eyes on me. "What are you doing here?"
Sarah jumps in. "My friend Carly was supposed to get into New York today. She has a rich boyfriend." She lowers her voice. "But she's not here. Out fucking her millionaire somewhere else."
Where the hell does she come up with this shit?
Nick's eyes go to the elevators. "It was nice to see you again. Excuse me."
He looks at me for a split second, his expression stone, then he moves away.
Well fuck.
"Don't worry. He'll be back." She switches to the seat next to mine. "He was staring at that zipper the way a dog stares at a ball."
"He looked pissed."
"Pissed he wants you so bad." She pulls my zipper down another half-inch. "Trust me."
The Billionaire's Need: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (The Billionaire's Deal Series Book 3) Page 5
