Page 63 of Body

“Excuse me, Kat. Where the hell did you get, “he’s in love with you?” I take a breath and groan. “I basically got a promotion because I’m fucking the boss like a common whore!”

“Jesús Cristo, Cara Bonita!That’s such bullshit. You deserved that promotion. You’ve been bringing them tons ofdineroover the past two years!” Maria exclaims.

“But the timing is no coincidence. The boss did it to get into Chase’s good graces.” I slump, my shoulders sagging low. I feel weighted to my seat. The heaviness of what happened with Chase, of how we fought, is crippling.

“So what if he did. You still deserve it. You get the chance to prove it to everyone, including yourself, and Chase!” Bree argues.

I go several more rounds of woe is Gillian and come to the conclusion that I’m going to have to talk to Chase. My cellphone pings, and I pull it out of my purse. It’s Chase. I’m a little surprised it took him this long to contact me.

To: Gillian Callahan

From: Chase Davis

I’m sorry. I still don’t know what happened. Please come to the Penthouse so we can discuss this. I’m lost without you.

That’s the closest thing to an “I love You” I’m going to get right now. I don’t even know if I want him to profess his undying love for me yet. It’s only been a few weeks. The butterflies in my stomach and ache in my heart can only be mended by an egotistical, wealthy, over protective, controlling, breathtakingly good looking, bastard. And he’s all mine.

I kiss and hug each friend as if it’s the last time I will see them. I don’t know where I would be if I didn’t have them to walk me away from life’s ledges.

We share a round of “besos,” and I go hail a taxi. The driver asks me where to.

There’s only one place I need to be right now. “Davis Industries, please.”

Chapter 15

The taxi cab pulls up to the building, and I run to the bank of elevators. Jack is sitting on a bench next to them. He stands when I push the button.

“He’s expecting you,” he says with contempt.

“He made you sit out here and wait, didn’t he?” I already know the answer based on the permanent scowl he’s sporting.

“You don’t have access to the Penthouse. We’re going to rectify that situation now.” He’s clearly irritated. He pulls a small black box from his pocket. It has a LED screen with an outline of a thumb print on it. “Place your right thumb on the panel here,” he points. I do as he asks and the screen scans my thumb. He pulls it back, slides out a tiny keyboard, and enters Gillian Callahan next to the imprint. “As requested by Mr. Davis, you now have unfettered access to the Penthouse.”

“So I can come and go as I please?”

“Yes, you may. Please consider the fact that he is entrusting you with access to his private quarters. If you bring anyone with you, I must be privy to the information in advance so I can run appropriate background checks.” His tone is flat and unwelcoming.

“Seriously?” He nods. “Did you run a background check on me?”

“Of course.”

“May I see it?”

He shakes his head. “That information was obtained by Mr. Davis. If you want to see yours or anyone involved with you, you’ll have to ask him directly.”

“Excuse me? What do you mean by anyone involved with me?” He can see that I’m less than impressed and getting agitated. I’ve got a hand on my hip and the sucker is cocked, ready for battle.

“Mr. Davis has background checks done on anyone he comes into regular contact with. We’ve done them on a Ms. De La Torre, Ms. Bennett, Ms. Simmons, Mr. Redding, Mr. Parks and a few others.” I close my eyes and breathe deep trying to understand without reacting why he would invade my privacy and the privacy of my friends. “There are plenty of people who would be thrilled if Mr. Davis was seriously damaged, hurt, maimed or dead. As his security advisor, I insist on background checks for all parties he comes into contact with.”

The words “maimed or dead” ring loudly in my ears lessening the initial shock. He does have a point. Being filthy rich comes with disadvantages. “Is that all, Jack?” I blow my bangs out of my eyes. I’m eager to see Chase. I need to clear the air with him.

“No,” he says as his eyes turn hard. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention at that frosty gaze. “That stunt you pulled today on the street was childish and immature.” His tone is scathing.

“Frankly, Jack, that’s none of your business.” I say it with confidence despite knowing, he’s right. It was a bit juvenile.

“Everything involving Mr. Davis is my business. I’ve been there for him since he was seven years old. I have no intention of allowing anyone to hurt him again.” He sounds like an over-protective father.

“You’re not his Father. You’re his bodyguard. He pays you to be there.” I can see that my statement hits home.

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