Chapter Twelve
By Friday, Reed and I had fallen into an easy working relationship. He gave me manuscripts to read each morning and I read them, then reported back–to which he would agree or challenge. He was at times aloof, the Smirker I’d met on my first day. Other times, he was gruff and demanding.
But, unlike Hector–and surprising even myself–I was thick-skinned and prepared to let him have it if he pissed me off.
Which, remarkably, he hadn’t. Not really. Not since the security camera incident with Marisa on Tuesday.
Although, I may have added a bit of a swing to my steps now that I knew he watched me.
Shh. Don’t judge.
But this was how each day went. Uneventful. Normal. I was five days into my twelve-week internship and loving every minute of it. I looked forward to the routine.
So when he found me around three o’clock on Friday, tucked into my place beneath the tree sculpture in the lobby of Reed Tower, it was no surprise. I’d spent every day in this spot, reading the amazing manuscripts he allowed me access to.
The surprise was the lavender latte he’d brought me.
I looked up at him, narrowing my eyes.
He squatted to my level. “It’s just a coffee, Ms. Blake.”
Reaching out, I accepted the drink, watching him as I brought the cup to my lips. I took a sip and smiled. “Thank you.”
His eyes held mine as he nodded.
But then he didn’t leave.
And as was always the case while in his presence, it didn’t take long for my blood to heat.
For my veins to begin buzzing with desire.
For my breath to become weak and unsteady.
I hadn’t seen him in White Rabbit all week, but I’d wanted to. Oh, how I’d wanted to. I’d imagined it a million-and-a-half ways. He’d approach me at the cash register, staring me down with those onyx eyes. He’d extend his hand to me and I’d slip my hand into his, then he’d lead me downstairs, into the Rabbit Hole–
“Do you think you can keep your professional life separate from your private life?
His words caught me off guard, so lost in my imaginary moment as I was. “What?”
His lips twitched. “I’d like to know if you can keep your personal life separate from your professional life, Rylan.”
Oh god. Anytime he said my name, I was done for. He’d slip it in every so often, dropping the formalities, and every damn time I nearly swooned.
This time was no exception.
And he knew damn well what he did to me.
The attraction between us was an actual, palpable force of nature.
It filled whatever space we occupied, electrified the air.
He’d already been quite clear about what he wanted, and it was no doubt quite obvious that I wanted the same thing.
We hadn’t acted on that desire, but it had arguably been a very long week of dancing around the obvious.
Reed tilted his head and I remembered the question. Could I keep my personal life and professional life separate? “Yes.”
Fine. It was a fucking lie. The lines between personal and professional had been obliterated the moment I saw him in the underground. He knew it and I knew it.
But I wanted to know him outside of Reed Tower. Was desperate for it.
So I lied.
But I think the question was more for formalities than anything.
“I am teaching a class this Sunday and my assistant is unavailable tonight. I need to practice, and cannot do so alone.”
“What kind of class?”
“Shibari. It’s a form of art. Using rope.”
He was an artist? With rope? Like macramé? I shrugged. “Okay.” Macrame was cool.
Reed’s lips twitched back into that smirk and he inclined his head. “What time is your shift over tonight?”
“Ten o’clock.”
“Then I will see you then to escort you downstairs as my guest.”
My eyes widened. “Oh, you mean… you meant…”
“Is there a problem, Ms. Blake?”
Butterflies did obnoxious little somersaults in my stomach.“No, sir. No problem.”
“Good.” He glanced at the manuscript in my lap. “Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off. Let me know what you think of that one on Monday.” With that, he rose swiftly and turned away from me, then strode to the elevators.
My shoulders fell and I breathed deeply, the first solid breath I’d taken since he approached me with my lavender latte surprise. Breathing around him was impossible. Functioning around him was nearly unmanageable.
Maybe the lack of oxygen had affected my brain. Did I just agree to go to the Rabbit Hole with him?
I pressed my fingertips to my lips as a smile spread across my face, then pulled out my phone to text Greer. Pausing with my finger hovering over her name, I closed out my texts and opened my search app instead, then entered shabarry into the search bar.
The results were varied, with a bunch of suggestions about what I might have tried to spell, but none of them had to do with rope or art.
I tried again. Shabarry rope art.
The search engine corrected the spelling to shibari, and I clicked on the first listing. It was a link to something on Etsy, which made sense for macramé. There were listings for rope in various colors and–
Oh.
Oh.
This was… wow. Okay. I’d definitely spelled it incorrectly.
And it was definitely not macramé plant holders.
Backing out of Etsy quickly, I typed in the correct spelling and giggled as I read the description, then clicked over to images and nearly dropped my phone. I swiftly closed out the screen and looked around, making sure no kids had been nearby when I pulled those pictures up.
Well then.
Another laugh slipped past my lips and I grinned like a fool at my dark phone screen.
This should be an… interesting night.
I’m not going to say that I took my newly acquired freetime this afternoon to shave every inch of my body, but…
I'm not going to say I didn’t do that either.
And who could blame me?
I had a date with the most beautiful, powerful man I’d ever seen.
Okay, not a date, but still.
We were meeting up at ten o’clock to go to the Rabbit Hole.
Together.
Date or not, did the wording really matter?
Noooope. This girl was about to get her whip on.
I know, I know, I’m getting ahead of myself. But a girl can dream.
The store was busier tonight than it had been all week, but with the pub across the street busier on the weekends than on most other nights, the influx of people made sense. More revelers meant more lookie-loos and window shoppers often turned into actual shoppers.
I scanned the store for Reed as often as I could, but my attention was almost always on the stream of customers and I hadn’t seen him all night. I hadn’t smelled him either, which was nearly as disappointing.
By nine-forty-five doubt had begun to settle heavy in my gut. Maybe he’d changed his mind. It wasn’t that unlikely, really. After all, I was an intern. Interacting with me outside of work was surely against the rules, or, at the very least, highly frowned upon.
And he was the CEO now. Tomorrow night, at the shareholders gala, he and his father would make it official.
Maybe he’d realized he couldn’t spend time with me tonight. Especially not here.
I get it, I tried to remind myself. It makes sense.
Didn’t make it suck any less, though, honestly.
There was this small, quiet part of me that tried to convince me that getting to know Cabot Reed at the Rabbit Hole was worth more than the twelve week internship I’d worked my ass off to acquire.
That part of me was an irresponsible harlot, completely consumed by lust, obviously, but she got a little louder as each moment passed and he didn’t show up. She really wanted me to track him down and quit the internship, then throw myself into his arms.
I was answering questions about garter belts to the best of my ability when my body alerted me to his presence. Lifting my gaze to the entrance of the store, my words trailed off.
Our eyes locked.
I felt Cabot Reed in every fiber of my being.