He's a tanned surfer boy. Harmless and likely high on weed. I text her my approval and a reminder to use protection and I head home.
The air outside is cold, a few degrees below freezing, but my skin keeps sizzling.
Back at Blake's place, I go straight to the spare bedroom. My room for the time being.
I unzip my boots and peel off my tights. I do it slowly, the way Nick would.
He's not going to fuck me. That much is clear. It's a good thing for our professional relationship. I can learn a lot from him, about programming and about AI specifically.
Deep, slow breath. Not fucking Nick is a good thing. It's absolutely a good thing. Totally, absolutely a good thing.
I press my eyes closed and drag my hand up my thighs.
He's never going to fuck me.
I need to get over how badly I want him.
I slide my panties to my knees. I need the release. A healthy way to deal with all the desire coursing through my body.
My fingers slide over my clit. I'm already so sensitive, like my body remembers how much it enjoyed Nick.
Memories fill my head as I stroke myself to an orgasm. The release is there, but I don't feel any more satisfied.
I'm only more desperate to have him.
Chapter Four
The intercom buzzes at 7 AM sharp. There's a mountain of paperwork waiting for me at the front desk. I spend the morning finishing it and dealing with Stanford administration.
I arrive at Odyssey at exactly 1 PM, just as Nick requested. Jasmine helps me set up my desk and get familiar with the company software.
The office empties around five-thirty, but I stay, lost in my work.
At six, an instant message pops up on my computer screen.
Phoenix Marlowe: Miss Wilder, please come to my office at your earliest convenience. I need to speak with you.
I bite my lip. Does he have to be so formal?
We're colleagues. That's it. I can do that.
I power down my computer, collect my things, and knock on the door.
"Come in," he answers.
I do. He's sitting behind his desk, all his attention on his computer screen. His office is huge. There's a couch, a wet bar, and an amazing view of the buildings on the other side of Broadway.
His focus shifts to me. "How was it?"
"Amazing." I clear my throat and try something a little more professional. "I expect it will take me a few days to get familiar with everything."
"Interns are allowed to be excited."
"I'm aware that I'm an intern, Nick."
"Please address me by my last name while we're at work." He shifts out of his seat, all business. "We need to discuss your living arrangements."
"I'm pretty sure that where I live is none of your business, Mr. Marlowe."
"You can't stay with Blake Sterling. I won't punish you for your sister's engagement, but it doesn't look right, an employee staying with the CEO of a competing company."
"I don't have anywhere else to stay. Do you have any idea how much it costs to rent a place in the city?" I fold my arms over my chest. "No, I suppose you're too rich to care about little trifles like rent."
"I'm aware of the market."
"Own enough buildings that it matters to you?"
"Don't insult my wealth. The money doesn't matter to me."
"Money never matters to people who have it." Go to hell for telling me what to do.
I take a deep breath. This is an important opportunity. I'm not throwing it away, even if it kills me that he's this calm and collected.
I press my palms against my skirt. "I can't accept a salary without losing my school credit. The two-thousand-dollar-a-month stipend is more than generous."
He scribbles something on a memo pad and hands it to me.
It's an address.
"A leasing company," he says. "We offer employees discounted apartments."
Nick rises to his feet. He looks even taller and grander standing in his sleek, modern office.
"For you, I'll pay the extra." He stares at me.
"You're paying for my apartment?"
"The company is. It will be yours through June." His voice is stern but his expression is protective.
Does Nick really care about my well-being? This can't be cheap.
But then he's a billionaire. It's all relative.
I stare back at him. It doesn't help. He's unreadable.
"Is that legal?" I ask.
"Yes. I can refer you to the company lawyer—"
"No, I trust you. About work." And about sex. But that isn't happening. I need to stop thinking about it.
"I'll take you to sign the papers tomorrow."
Did that night mean anything to you? Even a little bit?
I swallow hard. As much as I love my sister, I hate feeling like a third wheel crashing at her fiancé's place.
I've always wanted my own apartment.
I make eye contact with Nick. "Fine. But I can't go tomorrow. My sister gets back from St. Barts tomorrow."
"Lucky her."
"Yes, she's very lucky and very happy and very in love. But, really, Blake is the one who is lucky to have her, because she's—"
"Caring, sweet, and idealistic?"
His face is smug, like he's satisfied with his memory.
"Yes." I fold my arms. How can he remember such a specific detail and still act like we're strangers?
Nick moves out from behind his desk. He grabs his coat from the rack and slides it around his shoulders. "We'll go now."
We go straight to the apartment building.
The elevator ride is unbearable. His hand skims my lower back. It's enough to send heat racing through my body.
Nick is ten inches away. Close enough to touch. Close enough to rip off every one of my four layers, press me up against the elevator, and bury himself deep inside me.
He's wearing that same fucking cologne.
My thoughts do nothing to straighten once we're inside the apartment. I try to focus on taking in the small yet elegant place.
The high-tech, stainless steel kitchen serves as a hallway. Hardwood floors. Just enough room for a desk, a TV, a bed, and a yoga corner.
He could press me against the wall. He could peel off my coat and unbutton my blouse and tease me until I'm panting.
We're alone.
No one has to know.
I swallow hard. I'm the one with everything to lose. I can't fuck this up.
There are low clouds in the sky. A storm on the way. But nothing is stopping me from going out on that balcony.
I unlock the glass door. Frigid air nips at my nose and chin.
I button my coat and shove my hands into my pockets as I step outside.
It's slick. There's a small puddle a few feet from the built-in drain. Leftover from the New Year’s Day snow. Or as simple as a drunk upstairs neighbor spilling his cocktail.
I hold onto the railing to peer over the edge. Ten stories is still plenty high. In one direction, the river is dark and choppy. In the other, the steel and glass reflect the grey sky.
Nick steps onto the balcony. His hands go to my waist and he holds tightly. "Careful."
"Is it bad for your liability insurance if an intern falls to her death?"
"Lizzy, you—" He stops himself. "I would be very unhappy if something happened to you."
I release the railing, shifting my waist so I'm pressed against him. "Why?"
"You know the answer to that."
"Actually, I don't." I turn to face him. "And I don't appreciate you pretending like that night meant something to you."
"It did."
I play with the button of my coat. "Should I strip right here to remind you how it went?"
"You'll freeze to death."
"Probably worse for your liability insurance if an intern freezes to death naked on the balcony while the CEO watches."
He frowns, not at all amused. "Will it make you feel better proving that I want you?
"
"Yes."
"Then do it." He stares at me, daring me.
Okay. I can do that. I unbutton my coat and slide if off my shoulders. The cold air nips at my forearms. My blouse does nothing to keep me warm. There's no way I'm undressing here.
Nick's eyes are fixed on me. "Come here." He slides his arms around my waist, pulling my body against his.
Instantly, I'm warm. I'm safe. I'm whole.
It was one night. I shouldn't want him this much. Shouldn't feel like we're old lovers.
Nick pulls me inside. He grabs my coat from the balcony and slings it around my shoulders.
His touch is gentle, caring.
He leans in to whisper, "It won't help things, baiting me. You aren't going to get me to break."
"To break what?"
"I have rules about this. I don't sleep with people who work under me." His voice fills with regret. "You're a bright girl with a great future ahead of you. I'm not letting you give that up because you have a crush on me."
"It's not a crush." My temper surges. Half of me hates him for assuming he knows what's best for me. The other half is desperate for the intimacy we shared once upon a time.
Behind us, the wind howls. The balcony door pounds against the frame. Nick's expression is intense and he's staring right at me.