“Where does my department—”
My tone is harsher than I’d like as I interrupt her. “Not everything has been decided.” Gentling it, I add, “You don’t need to worry.”
“As your lover or as your employer?”
“When I tell you that you don’t need to worry, I need you to believe it. I need you to trust me.”
She’s silent, and every second that passes feels as if another weight has been added to my chest. It’s obvious I haven’t eased her concerns in the least. She wants a definitive answer and I can’t give her one. I can’t say anything with certainty.
“No more. It’s after six and I promise, I will make time for you at work. As your boss. Right now I only want to be your lover, as you put it.”
It seems for a moment that she’ll say something; her lips part and she inhales, but then her gaze falls and she merely nods. Not looking back at me.
“Thank you for respecting the boundary.”
“I don’t like it,” she whispers, at first looking out the window but then she meets my gaze.
“You look gorgeous squirming, though.” I pick up her hand and kiss the back of it, our fingers laced together. “It would please me if you wouldn’t worry.”
In a breath she laughs, as if it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s heard. “Is that all you need, for me to just not worry?”
Softly, I repeat the reassurance, “You will be all right.”
She’s quick to tell me, “It’s not just me.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m done. I’m done for right now. I won’t bring it up again.”
“I want you to confide in me, I do. I wish I had the answers for you, but I don’t.”
“When you do, will you tell me?” There’s hesitancy in her tone, but also hope.
“The second I know, I will tell you everything.”
Her shoulders drop slightly and she sinks deeper into the seat, not responding other than a nod and a soft, “Thank you.”
A moment passes, and the tension lessens.
“I had a hard day today,” I confide in her, our fingers still intertwined.
“I did too,” she speaks softly. “Fridays are long days, but at least we have the weekend.” Just when I think that’s all she’ll say, she offers, “Can I do anything?”
“Do anything?”
“To make anything better.”
“Not with work—”
“No, with you. Can I …” she trails off and tosses her hand in the air, the one I was holding. “Can I yell at someone, or massage your shoulders? I could …” she pauses and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, write an angry email or order us takeout for dinner.” In my silence, her tone is laced with exasperation when she says, “I could … I don’t know. What would make it better?”
“You could kiss me.”
“Would that make it better?” she questions, the hint of a smile on her lips.
“Yes. If you kissed me, it would.”
She doesn’t waste a moment, and when she kisses me, her hands wrapped around my face, I can feel her smile.
Suzette
The New York skyline is much different from the windows of Adrian’s penthouse. I’m used to feeling as if it’s towering over me, but in his living room we’re a part of it. In the heart of Tribeca surrounded by historic industrial buildings and new construction that’s all steel and glass.
It’s the epitome of New York.
It almost seems like a movie backdrop is wrapped around the entire room. Floor-to-ceiling windows that with a touch of a button, darken for privacy surround us. Every other day, Adrian introduces me to more wealth than I’ve experienced in the years I’ve planted roots in this city.
Behind me, he busies himself in the foyer answering a call. The design is open concept but so far away, I feel lost in the view. Even his furniture seems to play a part in the city.
It’s the perfect layout for a home with so much luxury. Hardwood floors shine under my feet and the neutral color scheme is fresh and strong. He has high ceilings and windows that kiss those ceilings, and beneath is a living room with sumptuous leather furniture that looks like it cost a mint.
Nothing in his home is out of place. There’s not a single ounce of clutter, which adds to the masculine energy. It even smells like wealth, if ever there was a scent, one so clean it makes me a little jealous. I can imagine the people it would take to make a home look like this. A housekeeper at least, and others to make sure the walls and furniture stay perfect. The view alone is worth millions.
I can hardly keep my mouth closed as he gives me the tour, passing quickly by his bedroom and ending up back in the living room. “I didn’t realize just how wealthy you are.” I swallow thickly, my fingers playing at the hems of my silk sleeves.