Page 94 of Not That Into You

Mac hands me a marked-up document. I sit behind my desk while reading through it. “Okay. I agree with your edits except for ‘luxurious.’ I think Stephanie’s use of ‘opulent’ is better.”

“It’s not too pretentious?”

I hand the paper back. “No. This is a 58-story building with marble floors and chandeliers. It’s a showpiece. It’s supposed to be pretentious.”

They nod. “Okay.”

I wake up my computer and scan my inbox. “Anything else?”

“Your interview’s been scheduled.”

I freeze for a moment before looking up. “Call or email?”

“Davonte called.” Davonte is the board’s administrator. “I put it in your calendar. He said he’d send you a confirmation email.”

I glance back at my inbox and pull up the email. My interview is scheduled for next Friday.

I take a deep breath. “Thanks, Mac.”

They nod and walk out of my office as I lean back in my chair. It’s a relief to have the interview scheduled but also nerve-racking. Despite my last name, I know I’ll have to fight harder than the other candidates for the CMO position.

I have a clear vision for The Stanhope Group’s marketing strategy, including strengthening the brand and ensuring The Stanhope Group remains synonymous with luxury. But the board will have to be willing to take some risks and actually understand marketing to see the value in my proposal.

I run a hand through my hair.

I’ve met many of the board members and have already started laying the groundwork for where I think the marketing department needs to go. But I still don’t know where they stand. And I haven’t talked to all of them.

Kathryn Levitan, for instance, has proven elusive. I’d been working on making inroads with Vanessa while we were in the Hamptons, but it’s a delicate dance. I have to express interest in Vanessa without leading her on or making her feel as if I’m only interested in connecting with her mother. I meant to call her last night to make plans to get together, but I was so focused on Monica I forgot.

Groaning, I let my head fall back.

Monica.

Rubbing a hand down my face, I try to banish the image of Monica’s naked body. I’ve been thinking about her a lot. I’d barely slept last night, my mind too busy reliving every breath, every touch, every moan.

I sit up and take a deep breath. Now is not the time to be revisiting those thoughts. Sporting a hard-on in the office is generally frowned upon, and I still have a lot of work to do.

But I can’t stop thinking about the feel of Monica’s body and the intensity of our connection. Sex with Monica was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

I blow out a breath.

And I want more. A lot more. But I’m not sure what Monica wants. Hell, the moment she caught her breath, she kicked me out of her apartment, panic written all over her face. I barely had time to get my shoes on before she was shoving me out the door. I can understand not wanting Hayley to walk in on us, but I can’t shake the feeling Hayley was a convenient excuse for Monica to get rid of me, to run away from whatever is going on between us.

Because something is definitely going on between us.

I’ve always known we had chemistry, but I didn’t expect it to be that explosive or intense. I’ve never felt so desperate before, such a driving need to possess and be possessed. If she’d let me, I would have kept her up all night showing her exactly how much I needed her.

And it’s not just the sex.

Monica is one of the few people I don’t have to pretend around. She has no patience for my charm or bullshit. With her, there are no calculations or manipulations. We just talk. And, sure, we argue. But there’s no heat behind it, and now, I can admit it’s more foreplay than fighting.

And bickering aside, I’ve told her things I’ve shared with few other people.

I trust her.

And I want her. I want to spend time with her and explore what we have together. But I’m not sure how she feels, and she’s frustratingly guarded. Shit. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already convinced herself last night was a fluke, a moment of insanity.

Which is why I need to talk to her.

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