by Stella Rhys
I found out about the story when I picked him up from the hospital that night, and admittedly, I still found it hard not to laugh when Kenzie spoke with misty eyes about the night Adam “saved her life.”
“Alright, fine, dungeoned,” I relented, accepting the submission of the new topic, because I did have way too much fun at his expense with the story. “That said, you should probably stop doing anything to lead the girl on. Unless of course you plan on sleeping with her at some point.”
“Yeah, not happening,” Adam said.
“Why? Because she’s the boss’s daughter?”
“No, because I’d never be able to get past the extreme baby voice. It would be like fucking a Cabbage Patch doll.”
“That entire sentence just gave me hives, but you’re probably right. Which is why you should just nip it in the bud before she falls any deeper in love with you.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine.”
“Mm. Famous last words,” I lilted, earning myself a grouchy look from Adam, but he said nothing in reply, because he knew my record with him.
From bets about which of us would fare better at SoulCycle to whether or not there was something going on between his sister Holland and his best friend Iain last summer (spoiler alert: there was), I was undefeated in just this past year alone. I knew it, he knew it, and he hated acknowledging it, which was why he generally just changed the subject.
“Moving on,” Adam said. “What’s the rundown?”
With a dutiful nod, I opened up my planner, going swiftly into the rundown of the day’s schedule, which started with our noon flight to Palm Beach, which got us in before six and allowed us an hour to go over the notes for tomorrow’s big meeting before I was dismissed to get ready to surprise Caspar.
“At which point, you’ll be an hour away from having dinner at The Palm Grill. Confirmed the res with Mario last night and made sure you had your usual table and your usual wine,” I said.
“Perfect. What else?”
“Confirmed with Knox’s team that we’re on for noon tomorrow, and just to pack a little more punch to our presentation, I’ve scheduled three of your current clients to be available for a conference call during the meeting—just so Knox can hear from other like-minded players who’ve had contract success as your client,” I said, peering up to catch Adam’s eyebrows lift with approval. “And last but not least, I know you only asked for a list, but here’s a full breakdown of every endorsement deal you’ve negotiated for your clients over the past two years.”
With a big, winning smile, I leaned over his desk to present him the report, watching his eyebrows ascend even more as he flipped through its concise but detailed pages.
“Damn. Good work,” Adam said, openly impressed. Still, he knew better than to assume that I’d do extra credit just to be nice so leaning back in his leather chair, he hit me with a look. “What do you want?”
“To pack my extra stuff in your suitcase.”
“Your extra Caspar stuff?” He made a face. “Are you sure you need all that shit?”
“Are you sure that’s any of your business?” I countered.
“Just seems you’re going a bit overboard with this whole thing.”
“Yeah, well, you would too if you ever, you know, loved somebody.”
Adam uncapped a pen with his teeth. “I love being single more than anything in this world, so hard pass on that,” he said, circling something in my report. “That said, this is pretty exceptional work, so I’ll go ahead and let you pack all your dumb shit in my suitcase,” he said, making my eyes light up for all of a second before adding, “As long as you show me what’s inside first.”
“Of my garment bag? What, I need your approval on what I’m going to wear to surprise my fiancé for his birthday?”
“Considering I had to spend my week watching you make thirty date night Pinterest boards on company time, yeah. I’d like to know your efforts and my patience didn’t wind up in vain because you decided to go with a brown pants suit.”
“First of all, there’s nothing wrong with brown or pants suits.”
“So that’s really what’s in there.”
“No, dickhead, if you must know, it’s all very expensive lingerie in there,” I said, tipping my nose in the air. “A little silk robe and some very delicate, strappy bras and garters that I don’t want to get all tangled.”
Adam raised his eyebrows, as if impressed that I knew such spicy lingerie existed in this world. He paused for a second, as if genuinely needing the second to process.
“Well,” he finally said. “I certainly hope it works.”
I narrowed my eyes at the hint of a smugness touching the corner of his mouth. “For what?” I asked, already annoyed.
“Cassie’s performance issues.”
Ugh.
“Okay, first of all, dungeon,” I started curtly, knowing well that he was referring to what he’d overheard me telling my best friend Georgia about Caspar on the phone last week. God, I wish he would just tie me up and take control for once. For good reason: Dungeoned. “Second of all,” I went on hotly. “It was never performance issues, it’s just a… fundamental difference in personal taste.”
Adam’s eyes glimmered wickedly as he nodded.
“Right,” he said. “You like good sex and he doesn’t.”
“Alright, I’m leaving,” I said, already turning around.
And with that I marched back to my desk, breathing in, then out, then promptly getting over the fact that my boss knew the intricacies of my inadequate sex life. It wasn’t like I didn’t know plenty of weird shit about Adam, and in Caspar’s defense, I probably could’ve been more vocal about things I wanted in the bedroom. Of course, that was precisely what tonight was about.
Fixing things.
Getting us back to the us we’d always been.
It was basically going to be a hot, sweaty, sexy reset button for our whole relationship, and there was honestly nothing Adam could say today that could ruin my excitement.
In fact, just peering over at my garment bag full of satin and lace had me feeling like I could hardly wait any longer.
At this point, I was just counting down the hours.
2
ADAM
Sitting forward at my desk, I dragged my hand across my jaw.
I had an hour till our flight and about thirty emails to send but despite staring at all the words on my screen, I wasn’t actually seeing a single one, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the bullshit that had been bothering me all week or the bullshit that was bothering me right now.
“I mean come on, man.”
My eyes flicked up to the bullshit of the moment, Josh MacMillan—or as he liked to call himself, J-Mac.
He was an entertainment lawyer who consulted at Engelman, generally on endorsement deals, and one of the guys I played basketball with on the weekends. He was also annoying as all hell, even when he wasn’t doing what he was doing today, which was hanging out uninvited in my office while staring out the door at AJ, who was talking to one of the other assistants down the hall.
“It’s wild. Five years she’s worked here and only now does she decide to start putting an effort into looking hot.”
“I think she specifically avoided ‘making an effort’ to avoid the creepy shit you’re doing right now.”
Josh laughed. “I’m not being creepy. I’m just being a guy with a working dick and eyes,” he said, waving down the hall at presumably AJ, no doubt because she’d caught him staring like an idiot. “I mean she’s one of the only chicks in the office, and probably the only one who’s actually hot underneath it all. No way you’ve never thought about hitting that before.”
“I haven’t,” I said as I finished up one of the thirty emails. “I’m also not engaging in this conversation with you.”
“Good. ‘Cause I don’t actually have anything to talk to you about. I only came in here to get a better view of Adrienne ‘I Was Secretly Hot Thi
s Whole Time’ Tan,” Josh said, chuckling at his own dumb joke right before cursing under his breath. “Goddamn, bro. You seeing this shit?”
I heaved a sigh as I glanced up, looking past Josh and at AJ, who was over by The Pit. She was smiling big, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder as she leaned over Liza’s desk, discussing something on Liza’s computer.
And as she did that, I took the time to fully process her look today.
I did this often enough, and pretty easily considering I saw her way more than any of these other clowns at work. I’d seen her at home in her pajamas before. Noticed the way her body looked in a fitted cotton tee. On pure instinct, my dick had definitely twitched that time I saw her at the hotel gym in Chicago.
All I remembered was a grey hoodie that cut off above the waist of her black yoga pants, and thighs so toned I’d been compelled to look for longer than a second as we walked past each other. “Gross,” AJ remarked, to which I’d snorted, and then we kept it moving.
Because that was generally what I did with her in these situations: Assess the difference. Catalogue it in my head. Carry on with my life.
But today was different.
Today, it wasn’t quite as easy to move on from looking at her, because I knew she looked the way she did specifically for Caspar, and while I had always known his weak ass didn’t deserve her, I was pretty sure I had the hard evidence now after seeing him outside a cafe on La Brea three days ago.
When he was supposed to be location scouting in Sydney.
As in Australia.
The lie itself would’ve been bad enough, especially since AJ had been waking up at a quarter to five all week just so she could call him before bed, but his shittiness didn’t actually stop there, because I hadn’t just seen him in LA.
I’d seen him with his hands stuffed into some girl’s back pockets.
And his mouth buried in her neck.
Christ.
The memory of the image made me grimace and curl my lip at my desk, because I’d already disliked this guy before all this—for always forcing AJ to tend to his needy ass, and for making her step outside to call him every twenty minutes when she was with me at work parties.
It didn’t help his case that he started every sentence he goddamned spoke with “as a filmmaker.”
But now I had a much realer reason to hate the little shit, and I was struggling hard with the decision not to tell AJ about what I saw.
So as Josh went on about some bullshit, I grabbed my phone off my desk and shot a quick text.
ME: You’re sure I shouldn’t tell her?
I attempted in vain to read an email as I waited for the reply, which took about twenty seconds.
HOLLAND: Yes. She literally spent her entire week getting ready to surprise him and you’re only 70% sure the guy you saw was Caspar.
I grimaced, rubbing the back of my neck as I read my little sister’s text.
Admittedly, with his stupid face buried so deep in other-woman neck and my car going sixty miles an hour, I hadn’t been able to confirm with total certainty that the blond douchebag with the man bun was in fact Caspar.
But he was about five-ten with a slight build and a T-shirt with Quentin Tarantino’s stupid face on it, so all signs seemed to be pointing in the cheater’s direction.
ME: Fine. But for the record it’s more like 76%
HOLLAND: Weirdly specific but my point stands. Don’t tell her.
My brow furrowed at her insistence, but just as I went to text my number two for his opinion, she texted again.
HOLLAND: Save it pal. Iain agrees with me.
“Alright, damn,” I said under my breath, laughing because eight months later, I was still getting used to the fact that my kid sister and best friend were an item.
I was also getting used to the fact that Holland, despite being ten years my junior, was a whole lot wiser a lot of the time.
HOLLAND: I know it sucks because you tell AJ everything but if it helps, I don’t think it was Caspar you saw. He might be annoying but he’s always been loyal.
HOLLAND: And to be totally fair, you’ve hated the guy since day one. Don’t you think there’s a chance your bias might’ve influenced what you saw that day?
I frowned hard as I read the latest text, but as I started typing a rebuttal, I stopped myself.
Because I didn’t actually have a defense.
I did hate Caspar. He constantly wasted AJ’s time and thus mine and I certainly wouldn’t complain if I didn’t have to hear his name again.
But at the same time, I didn’t want this to be AJ’s reality.
And as much as I hated having to defend Caspar—even if it was only in my own head—the fact was that I much preferred to hate the guy than have to kill him, or to see AJ made a fool.
So I went with the only move I had left, which was to assure myself that everything was probably fine.
“Hey, so now that you’ll be in town, you gonna be at the party tomorrow?” Josh asked, referring to the Engelman Foundation Fundraiser, which was held every year at a luxury resort in Palm Beach.
I blinked out of my thoughts but didn’t look at him. “Yeah,” I said, returning to my work.
“Is AJ going?” he asked, making me snort.
“No, she’ll be with her fiancé.”
“Ah, right. Forgot about him,” Josh said distractedly, staring down the hall for another few seconds before adding, “Man, fuck that guy.” To which I smirked.
At least there was one thing we could agree on.
3
AJ
“So, like… how long has it been exactly?” Georgia asked as I sat on the phone with her at the bar of The Hugo, where Adam and I stayed whenever we were in town on business.
It was a gorgeous hotel on the island of Palm Beach, and the very place I’d booked Caspar his own suite—as an “early birthday gift” to make up for “not being able to be there.”
It was the perfect cover.
Since the reservation was under my name, I was able to grab my own key at check-in fifteen minutes ago, which set the plan right in motion. Upon finishing this quick meeting with Adam, I’d do my hair and makeup in his room and then go to let myself into Caspar’s, where I’d be ready and waiting for him once he got home.
The timing was perfect, since according to Instagram, he and his crew were currently shooting at some house in West Palm Beach, and according to his texts, he planned to be back at the hotel by seven-thirty.
I couldn’t help the grin on my lips as I reread some of his cute texts from the morning.
CASPAR: All I want is to be back in that big ass bed. :) Thank you again for the room babe
CASPAR: Best fiancée ever. Miss you like crazy
I looked again at the cute selfie he sent me before taking a sip of my wine and following up on my best friend’s question of exactly how hefty a streak Caspar and I would be breaking tonight.
“Ummm, since actual sex or since sexual contact?”
“What do you mean by sexual contact?”
“Like… hand stuff? While we’re both half-asleep on the couch and mostly focused on Netflix?” I said, my entire face puckering into a shameful wince as I heard Georgia stop dead in the middle of stirring the soup she was making—basically the equivalent of me hearing her horror.
“Like, not even looking at each other, just looking at the screen?”
I covered my face with my hands, unsure if I was about to break into laughter or tears. “Yes.”
“Oh…” My best friend trailed off, sounding so genuinely upset for me that I had to cackle. “AJ. Honey,” Georgia said seriously. “How did it get that bad?”
I took a big drink of wine as my amusement wound down to a groan.
“I don’t know, he just… lifts a lot of heavy film equipment every day? And is super tired?” I hypothesized weakly. “And we just put so much energy into our careers. He’s busting his ass to break into the film industry and I’m dealing with Adam and these clien
ts all the time. By the time we get home, we wind up just relaxing with each other instead of... firing each other up. You know?”
“Oh, I know,” Georgia said, her sigh a clear reference to her on-and-off boyfriend of four years, Wes. “Thing is, babe, it’s an easy fix. All that attraction and sexual chemistry is still there. It’s always been there. It’s just buried under a million layers of life and stress and all the complexities of your relationship. But it only ever takes is one night to wake it all up. And before you even know it, you two will be humping like bunnies.”
“God, I hope you’re right, because it’s been a month since I’ve been laid and my vibrator basically handed me a letter of resignation last night.”
“Wow, that is quite the visual. But hey, you know the saying ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’?”
“Yes…”
“Well, I think distance also makes your climax stronger.”
I broke into a laugh that was half-groan as I glanced at the clock. “That’s… beautiful, Georgia. But on that note, I gotta go. This meeting’s about to start any second.”
“Fine, but text me later to let me know how it goes with Caspar!” Georgia said eagerly just as the bartender slid a neat whiskey onto the counter next to me.
“I’ll text you tomorrow morning. Hopefully I’ll be too busy to text you tonight,” I said, looking down at the fingers wrapping around the whiskey, then up at who they belonged to—a smirking Adam as he slid into the seat next to mine.
“Hopefully being the key word,” he said as I hung up.
My eyes rolled back. “Adam. If you don’t let go of that one stupid thing you overheard about my sex life, I’m going to go into extreme detail about every time in the past five years that Caspar rocked my world with his nine-inch dick.”
Adam choked on the first sip of his drink, but my satisfaction was short-lived. “Christ, I think we’ve hit a new low for Cassie when you’re lying about his dick size for him.”
