Both men are attractive and incredibly smart, two things that certainly don't hurt when it comes to finding success in business. No man could ever doubt their intelligence or business savvy and no woman could ever resist them. Recipe for success, or so that's what Zayne said.
But now as I stand outside of the high-rise glass building, I can't help but be anything but extremely proud of my big brother, and of Zayne. They had a dream and they went for it. I envy the courage that it takes and hope someday my own courage will pay off and I will get to achieve the one dream I have had for a very long time, to see my book in print. To hold it in my hands and know that I created it, that a piece of me lives within the pages.
I quickly make my way up the ten step, wide, cement staircase leading to the entrance of Fredrick Tower. I push my way through the revolving door and side step a large group of people exiting the building before turning my attention to the reception desk sitting in the middle of the most enormous and elegant lobby I have ever seen.
White columns line the main walkway and open up to two large staircases on either side of the reception area, both starting on opposite sides of the desk and then rejoining in the middle of the second floor.
My heeled feet click against the shiny marble floor as I approach the beautiful woman working behind the desk. She's dressed in a light blue business suit with a frilly white top peeking out from under her jacket. Her dark hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail and her bright red lips smile widely at me when I reach her.
After showing her my driver’s license and signing in, I’m given a Visitors badge and directed to the nineteenth floor. I straighten my black wrap dress in the mirrored elevator walls, having decided a more conservative look would be the better choice for visiting my brother at his office. Thanks again to Emma, of course.
When the elevator doors slide open, I step into an equally beautiful lobby as the one downstairs only on a much smaller scale. There are no columns or fancy staircases but other than that, everything is spot on. From the silver and black décor, to the shiny floors, everything is uniform. I make my way to the left where a reception desk sits in the center of the lobby.
“Alec Morgan,” I say to yet another beautiful, dark haired receptionist, dressed very similarly to the one downstairs. What is it with this place? I swear it must be required that all of their receptionists be insanely gorgeous. My self-esteem plummets a little at the thought of Zayne working with women who look like the one in front of me on a daily basis. What could he possibly see in me when he has this to look at all day?
“Name?” the woman asks with a forced smile. Her reaction seems snippy to me, but deciding it's probably just the way she is, I ignore her obvious annoyance.
“Grace Morgan. I'm his sister,” I say, not missing the way her smile stretches across her face at the news. Suddenly her previous reaction makes perfect sense. She either has a thing for Alec or is having a thing with Alec.
“Oh, okay. He's in...” She quickly scans the computer in front of her before meeting my eyes again. “Conference Room E. Through those doors, hallway to the left, last door on the right. His meeting is in ten so if you hurry you can probably catch him before it starts.”
“Thank you.” I give her a brief nod before making my way to the set of double doors directly across from the desk. I push my way through the heavy wood and follow the hall that leads down the left side of the building.
Unlike the lobby, the floors are covered in a light gray carpet and the walls are a couple of shades darker. Well, the inside walls anyway. The outside walls are the same glass as the rest of the building.
I pass a couple of middle-aged men in suits on my way down the hall, but other than that, the floor seems relatively empty. I can't imagine that Alec and Zayne have that many employees. I know that both of them are the 'do it yourself' kind of people and I can't see them giving up much control when it comes to their work.
I find Conference Room E at the very end of the hall just as I was told. The door is partially open and I pause before entering, making sure that I’m not interrupting anything. I don't hear anyone talking, so I push my way through the door, my eyes immediately landing on a couple locked in a passionate kiss. The man is sitting in one of the chairs that surrounds the large oval table in the middle of the room. A lean woman with long blonde hair is straddling his lap, her face hovering over his.
I start to back away, embarrassed to be imposing on such a private moment, but then the man unlatches the woman from his lips just as I turn. I catch a brief glimpse of his face as he lifts the woman and stands. I quickly do a double take. My heart immediately picks up speed and my insides twist.
“Zayne?” The word comes out unintentionally and causes his blue eyes to shoot in my direction. I can see the emotions as they flicker across his face. Guilt, shame, panic. But then just like that, the mask slips into place and his lips pull into a tight line.
The blonde seems to have no idea of my presence until Alec's voice causes her to swivel on her heel. I catch sight of her face for only a fraction of a second but it's enough to see that the woman is beyond beautiful. I quickly turn to face Alec, a sick feeling knotting in the pit of my stomach. I do my best to push through the emotions seething through me and plaster on a smile.
“Gracie. What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?” he asks, wrapping me in a tight hug.
“I wanted to drop something off to you. Do you have a minute?” I ask, gesturing toward the hall.
“Sure, yeah.” He peers over my head to speak to Zayne. “Give me five,” he says, before wrapping his arm around my shoulders and leading me into the hall.
I don't look back at Zayne. I can't let him see how affected I am. I don't want him to see how badly he's hurt me. But more than anything, I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I care enough to be hurt.
“What's up, baby, girl?” Alec asks the moment we are out of earshot of Zayne and the woman.
“I just wanted to drop this off.” I extend the white envelope to him. He eyes me curiously before peeling back the flap. When he catches sight of the cash, he looks at me even more confused. “For the guitar. It's every cent I owe you.”
“Grace, no.” He tries to hand the envelope back to me. “You don't have to pay me back.”
“I want to,” I say, my tone suggesting that this is not up for discussion. “I asked to borrow it and now I am paying it back. Thank you for loaning it to me.”
“Look at you.” He looks almost impressed. “Dare I say my baby sister is not so much of a baby anymore?” He sighs, smiling fondly at me.
“I haven't been for quite some time, Alec. I think you're just now choosing to notice.”
“Yeah, I suppose you're right.” He checks his watch before glancing back at me. “I gotta go or Zayne and Ashley will start without me.” His words instantly slice through me.
Ashley.
My stomach twists again and the little green monster in my head lets out a vicious scream.
“Oh and just so you know, we're leaving for China tomorrow morning.” He gestures to the conference room door. “Should only be gone for a few days but if you need anything just call, okay?”
“Is it just you and Zayne going?” I ask, trying desperately to keep my voice casual.
“Yeah and Ashley,” he says, sealing the nail in my coffin. My heart hammers painfully in my chest and I feel the tears welling behind my eyes just begging to be spilled. “Zayne and I are working on expanding into the China market. Ashley works for the company that we are in negotiations with and is stationed here in their New York office. She's flying out with us but is staying in China for a couple weeks once our business there is finished.”
“Well, I should let you get to it then,” I say, plastering on a smile. “Be safe and let me know when you're home. Love you.”
“Love you too, Gracie.” He pulls me in for a quick hug before disappearing behind the conference room door.
I practically
sprint the entire way out of the building, trying with very little success to calm the storm raging inside of me. How could he do this to me? How can he sleep with me and then so casually bounce to another woman as if I mean nothing?
My tears are boiling over by the time I make it to the garage where my white Prius is parked. I tear open the door and collapse into the driver’s seat
We never made things exclusive, I try to reason with myself. Only it shouldn't matter, should it? Isn't there some unspoken rule somewhere that you are not allowed to fuck your best friend's little sister and then totally fuck her over?
I honestly don't know why I’m even surprised. I know how Zayne was with women prior to me. How could he not be? It was foolish of me to think that he would be any different because I couldn't control my libido. I pursued him, so I asked for this, right? Only I didn't pursue him. Not really.
I let out a scream of frustration and slam my palms onto the steering wheel. I hate him for treating me like another one of his whores, but more than anything, I hate myself for ever giving him the opportunity to do so.
WHEN I ARRIVE AT Vitos approximately eight hours later, I’m in no better of a mood. In fact, I would have to say that time has only given me the opportunity to let my anger fester. I have definitely reached the conclusion that jealousy does not look good on me.
“What's with you, girl?” Becca asks, standing next to me at the bar. I shrug and lay back my third tequila shot before retrieving my guitar that's leaning against the stool beside me.
“Men” I grumble, hoisting the case strap over my shoulder. Becca rolls her eyes and gives me the 'they're all assholes honey' look.
“What did yours do?” she asks, rolling her tiny lip ring with her tongue. Something she does all the time that I’m convinced she doesn't even realize she's doing.
“Well he's not mine. Let's just say that was made crystal clear to me today.” I roll my eyes, immediately thinking about how much Zayne hates when I do that. “Whatever. I'm better off without him. So I guess he did me a favor.”
“Good for you. No woman needs a man to define her happiness.” She gives me an encouraging smile. “You better get up there.” She gestures to the stage as the lights in the bar begin to soften and one solitary stage light shines down on my stool. I might feel a little bit like a rock star if there were more than twenty people here, noting to myself that even twenty is pretty good for a Monday night.
“Jake, can I get a bottle of water?” I ask, leaning against the bar to get his attention. He nods, turns to the cooler behind him, and grabs a water before sliding it down the bar at me. I catch it before it spirals off the edge, throwing Jake a smile.
I jump when my phone starts to vibrate in my back pocket. Having turned the volume off, it sends a light wave of pulsations down my leg.
I consider ignoring it. I am ninety-nine percent positive that it's Zayne, considering every message I have received today has been from him.
Grace it's not what you think. Call me
Please call me
We need to talk
And so on and so forth. I opted not to respond to any of them until the last one came through about thirty minutes ago. I'm sorry
To that I simply responded: You have nothing to be sorry for. We're not together.
I felt like a total bitch afterward, but what the hell does he expect? I’m certainly not going to admit that seeing Ashley straddled across his lap, her lips pressed firmly to his, is something that will likely haunt me for the rest of my existence.
Deciding to check, I pull my phone out and click on the screen.
Play something for me. Just for me.
I immediately re-read the message and then spin around, quickly tracing every square inch of the bar. He's here? There's no way he's here. But then how does he know I'm playing? I've never told him I work here, but then again, I'm sure it's something that he could find out if he really tried.
My eyes flip from person to person, trying to pick out his face in the crowd. There is no mistaking his chiseled features, I would recognize him immediately. Only I don't see him anywhere.
“Dude, you playing tonight or what?” Jake hollers from the bar, pulling my attention back. I spin toward him and promptly stick my middle finger up before throwing him a playful smile and making my way onto the stage.
My mind is still spinning from the text message when I take a seat on the stool that sits in the center of the stage. I plug my guitar into the amp and click on the mic, adjusting the stand to the right height before setting my guitar in my lap.
A shiver runs down my spine and pulls my attention to the crowd. I have this eerie feeling of someone's eyes on me, only of course there are eyes on me. I'm on a stage in front of a bar 'not so' full of people. But that's not it.
He's here. I don't know how I know it but I do.
Suddenly my mind goes blank. If he is here and he's watching me right now, I want to make sure I play something that tells him how I feel. That's one of the biggest perks of playing music. You can pour your heart out and no one actually knows if you really feel that way or if you're simply singing a song.
Only problem is, I don't know what to play. A million and one songs flash through my mind. Songs that remind me of Zayne, about the way he makes me feel.
Suddenly the perfect song hits me. It's one of the more recent songs that I’ve learned and I’ve yet to play it here, feeling like I needed to get a little more comfortable with it first. But this is the perfect song. If Zayne really is here then this may be my only chance to play it for him.
The second my fingertips graze the guitar strings, the trembling in my hands eases. This is where I’m safe. This is where I’m free. Just me and my guitar.
Closing my eyes, I start the opening lines for “Butterfly” by Christina Perri. The song is slow and remarkably beautiful. Like with all songs, while it may actually mean something entirely different, it can be interpreted any way the listener chooses. To me, the song is about someone loving another person that always seems out of reach, never being enough for that person, and ultimately making the choice to let them go.
When I reach the climax of the song, the part that I connect to the most, I finally spot Zayne. He's leaning against the wall close to the front door, over half of his body hidden in the shadows. He steps forward, but only enough for me to make out his face, his blue eyes staring fiercely back at me.
I belt out the lyrics, never breaking from his gaze.
I sing out the last few soft notes at the end and then silence my guitar. A small applause comes from the crowd. Not that I was expecting one at all. Applauding is something I’m used to not getting, considering some nights my crowds consist of only a handful of people.
While I appreciate that they liked it, there is only one person I care about right now and at this very moment, his deep blue eyes are set directly on me, a small frown turning down the corners of his beautiful mouth. Before I have time to do anything, he turns on his heel and exits the bar. Just like that. Without even a backward glance.
Remembering that I’m up on stage, I take a deep breath and immediately start in on my next song. This one isn't about wanting someone or loving someone, quite the opposite. This song is emotional and raw and angry and right now, it's exactly what I am feeling. “Limp” by Fiona Apple. Arguably one of the best songs ever written and recorded by a female rock artist.
The tension and build in the song gives me a little reprieve from Zayne's wordless departure and by the end, I feel marginally better. That's what I love about music. While one song can describe my agony and pain, another can make me strong and fearless and then others downright inspire me to be something more. Nothing specific, just more.
The rest of the night goes by without incident. Of course, I check my phone at the beginning, middle, and end of every single break. Not one word from Zayne.
Not a, hey, sorry I left. Or a, hey leaving for China, just thought you'd want to know. Nope, I get absolutely nothi
ng.
Well, if him getting it on with some blonde at his office didn't tell me what I needed to know, his silence certainly does. To him, I am sex. That's it. I'm the forbidden fruit. Something he's not allowed to have but he has to taste.
I get it.
And while I'm hurt and more than a little angry, I'm not shocked. I knew from the very beginning that if we ever crossed the line, sex is all it would ever be. Zayne is not the settle down with a wife and four children kind of man. No. Zayne is sex and power and a life without limits.
But even knowing this about him, accepting that I will never be anything more than this is heartbreaking. I let a part of me hope and that's where I went wrong. Especially since I have done a hell of a lot more than hope. More like wish and pray and wish some more. The problem with wishing is that it never comes true. Hope is for the naive and praying.
Seeing Zayne with that woman did two things to me today.
One, it showed me what it means to be truly jealous, something I have never felt before. And two, it made me admit something that up until now I haven’t let myself accept.
I am in love with Zayne Evans...
And there's not a damn thing I can do about it.
Chapter Eight
IT'S BEEN FOUR DAYS since Zayne left for China. Four days that I have spent determined not to obsess over him and four days that I have failed miserably. Having Emma in the know has helped me tremendously. She has let me cry, get mad, and even laugh at my own ridiculousness, all the while being the comforting shoulder she has always been for me.
Emma, of course, is convinced that Zayne is just 'hooking up' with me and that he is not a man capable of a relationship. While I wholeheartedly agree with her, it still sucks hearing that other people view him the same way. Not that Emma knows him well, but it doesn't take being around Zayne a lot to know that he is as much off limits to women as a devoted married man is, unless you want nothing more than hot sex. That much he can do.
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