Chapter 14
“What am I going to do, Kitty?” I slump hard into the seatback, the light brown rods of support behind me twisting. “I don't know what I was thinking.”
The mug in front of her tinks as she stands at the counter, stirring in sugar to my liking. Slippered feet drag across the tile when she walks to rejoin me at the table. “You weren't thinking with your head. That's for sure.”
I’m not sure if I should laugh or groan while she slides the drink my way.
“But don't beat yourself up. You did well to last as long as you did.” She repositions a hot pink hair roller that’s falling sideways. “I wouldn't have lasted two days.”
Tucking my knees into my chest, I stretch out the oversized black shirt she's given me to sleep in. “Getting so wrapped up in a single person feels like a huge mistake waiting to happen.”
“Is he right?” She fluffs out the pink collar of her robe. “Do you need him?”
“Can I please just say this feels like peeking into Pandora’s box, and I’d rather not talk about it?”
“I’m sorry.” She stirs her tea. “It’s just … you talk so little about your past. I’ve never been able to figure out if it’s due to you not fully trusting anyone, or if it comes from a lack of confidence in people, like me.”
“Perhaps it’s rooted in a little bit of both, Kitty. Safety and secrecy are kind of my friends. Also, the idea of him being so high-profile is something I’m not sure I like. It goes against my whole way of living.”
“The first one, I get. Totally. The second one? I don’t know, Liv. Maybe it’s time you give into someone who borders on the line of superhuman.”
A laugh spills out of my mouth. It’s one of part amusement, part shock. There’s no doubt Grant Brexton is different from any person I’ve met. He’s more powerful, deciphering, and concise, and he radiates an aura that you only touch him if he allows it. But…
I brush back my hair with my fingers, giving a pensive look to my mug of tea. The deep color that doesn’t allow me to see into the bottom of the mug matches too well with my soul tonight, with all its endless questions. I gently push it away, shaking my head. “But even subhuman might not be enough, Kitty. Not after—” A raw, unsealed edge of my heart slices at my lungs with the deep breath I take.
I already feel it.
A sob story ready to rear its ugly memories. And no. Just no. I’m not even about to go there. Waving my hand in the air, I push the pain and story into a dusty corner of my brain. “Shit, just forget it.”
“Then,” Kitty begins softly, breaking through my haze, “maybe fate is choosing for you and saying it's time to trust someone with everything you hold so dear.”
“I doubt I need that.” I shrug. “All these years, I’ve been managing fine.”
“But have you? We're not islands, Liv. Whatever happened in life, you need to open up and have a little faith. Either way, I can't imagine having a hotter person to explore with.” She winks. “In the meantime, live a little for once. I’m sure you've earned it.”
* * *
There's no break the following day, even though Brexton is gone. I’m stuck at my desk, making international calls, stretching my German to its capacity as I try to send baskets to our potential new clients.
In other words, I’m doing the opposite of interior decorating.
Life leads you down a crooked road sometimes.
By the time I get home, my mind and body are dead because being on the phone all day and talking in your non-primary language is tough, even if you love the culture.
When Friday morning rolls around, I expect the worst, but there’s nothing. Brexton isn’t even here. Thoughts of what happened in the elevator are what I’m left with and those haunt me.
The almost sex, the desperate kiss, his fist slamming against the metal wall right before he plucked at the buttons of my top. Lust coils at the base of my spine when I hear his words again.
“Button your blouse.”He sounded so primal, gruff and dry, when he said it; not at all like the most powerful man in Seattle.
I’m the one who made him feel that way.
I really need to stop thinking about this. If he shows up today, I’ll be in an even more slippery mental state than before—
But lunch comes and goes, and there’s still no Brexton.
He must not be showing up today.
After a while, some of the memories recede. Partly because I’m busier than yesterday. More phone calls and talking in German. Right now, my office and mind resemble the hullabaloo outside my door—pure chaos.
The day races by in a fury, and I never notice the time. I've just wrapped up my final notes for Klein Manufactures when my blood runs cold, and my spine snaps straighter than a board.
“To my office now, Olivia.”
It's my intercom, and the pissed voice of Brexton summoning me.
“Oh shit.” My heart plummets so fast I’m surprised I can’t hear it drop into my stomach. I scrub my hands over my face and look at the time. Double shit. It’s six p.m.
Everyone’s gone.
Now I hate myself for not checking the clock because I could’ve been avoiding this.
As things are, I collect my planner and march to his office—well, maybe more like, knees quaking with my chest wanting to implode. There's zero marching, because I'm terrified.
Brexton's pissed, but I don't blame him. I'd be pissed at me too if I was him—and if we’re being transparent, I’m even a little pissed at myself.
He’s hot, smart, and a total badass.