Page 43 of Promise Me Forever

Shit. It’s Linda. We both freeze, and I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing. A few seconds pass, and we hear her say, “I don’t know where he is, Susan. Someone said they saw him going in here, which is obviously nonsense. I swear, that man drives me crazy. He might look good, but I wouldn’t object if he went back to Chicago and…”

Her voice fades as she moves away, and we finally give in to the laughter. He puts some distance between us, and I very deliberately don’t look at his groin. “Linda fancies you,” I say, straightening my hair.

“She does,” he replies. “I’m a lucky man. Though a little heartbroken that she wants me to go back to Chicago.”

“Well, personally, I think you should put in a complaint with HR. You shouldn’t have to tolerate being objectified like that.”

I’m arranging my hair back into its ties and ribbon, and he’s watching every move I make. “Leave it down.”

I raise my eyebrows at him and see that he means it. “Um, no. Thank you for the apology, Mr. James, but you don’t get to tell me what to do. You may be the boss of me at work, but this is a team-building day, right? So, let me communicate with you, openly and transparently—I’ll wear my hair however I like it.”

His lips twitch with a hint of a smirk while his dark eyes narrow. He’s both pissed and amused—a dangerous combination. I roll back my shoulders. This is going to be a long day.

It turnsout that Drake is hosting my group’s first session, and predictably enough, he does a great job. We all made our way into a large meeting room, the atmosphere still lighthearted and jovial, and after yet another round of refreshments, he took to a small podium at the front. He made a few jokes about the corporate world, spoke with genuine passion about the companyand its ethos, and then basically told everyone that they should forget who he is for the next several hours because this day isn’t about him, it’s about us.

It could have sounded corny, but the way he delivered it left the crowd in no doubt that he genuinely believes in what he’s saying. He truly believes in James and James and that we are all an essential part of it. I know he’s a lawyer and he’s used to performing, but I still buy into it, and from the sound of the applause echoing around the room, so does everybody else.

He calls people up by name and invites them to take their spot at the podium and share a little information about themselves and their role in the firm. There’s a huge variation in how everyone manages this part of the proceedings—some simply stutter their names and job titles and clearly can’t wait to escape, and others come complete with PowerPoint presentations and slides. One guy—the never-to-be-forgotten Drew, executive manager of catering services—even had his own theme song. He shimmied up to the podium to the sound of Kelis singing “Milkshake,” then told us all about how many tons of fruit and how many gallons of milk it takes to provide us all with our smoothies, shakes, and lattes each year. It made us all laugh, but it also caused me to consider how much work goes on behind the scenes to make the small things happen—which I suppose is part of the point of a day like today.

Eventually, Drake looks down at his notes and smiles. “Now,” he says, “as most of you know, I’ve been running the Chicago office for several years. That means that today is the first opportunity I’ve had to meet a lot of you in person. Our final team member, though, is one I know well. Really well. Please put your hands together for my assistant, Amelia Ryder.”

He makes eye contact with me as I shuffle along my row of chairs and walk nervously toward the front of the room. He quirks one eyebrow, and to anybody else at all, it wouldmean nothing. Just a boss acknowledging his employee. But I am hypersensitive to everything this man does, and that simple quirk of an eyebrow, along with his mischievous smile, is enough to make my heart hammer harder. I was already nervous, and now I have him telling the whole room that he knows me “really well.” Nobody else will suspect that he knows me so well he knows how my orgasms taste. But still… I know. And he knows. And that’s enough to knock me further off-balance.

He applauds as I walk toward him and gestures for me to take his spot. With every other guest, he’s stood off to the side or behind them. With me, he changes it up, taking a seat in the front row so he can see me.

I stare down at him, my throat dry and my hands clammy, wondering what on earth to say. The room is packed with people looking up at me, but he’s the only one I can see. He meets my eyes and actually winks. Damn him. He’s messing with my head, and he knows it. Well, two can play at that game. It’s definitely time to be more Scarlet. I take a deep breath. I can do this. Or at least she can.

“Hi!” I say brightly to the assembled group. “Can I get anyone a coffee? Would you like me to run to the deli for you? Should I order your wife some flowers or order your mistress some diamonds? Does your dry cleaning need picking up? Would it help if I answered your phone so I can blow off the people you can’t be bothered talking to? And then can I get you some more coffee?”

There are chuckles around the room, and I see some people nodding. I’m guessing the ones who have similar roles to mine. Drake looks momentarily taken aback, especially at the word “mistress,” but then he settles back in his chair with an amused look on his face.

“I’m guessing most of you don’t have secretaries or assistants, or whatever you want to call them. Most of youprobably learned long ago how to get your own coffee, buy your own lunch, and remember your own wife’s birthday. As for the mistresses, I’ll leave that well enough alone, it’s none of my business. But one of the perks of being truly successful, not only at James and James but at most companies, is that you get to basically unlearn all that stuff. You get someone else to do it for you. You get a babysitter. Mr. James says he knows me really well, and to some extent that’s true—but how well does he actually know me? Shall we see?”

There’s a chorus of cheers and people yelling “Yeah!” and other words of encouragement. I put my hand on my hip and tilt my head as I look at Drake. “Are you up to the challenge,sir?”

He narrows his eyes at me, and I know I’m playing with fire here. But he started this. He cornered me in a storage room and messed with my hair. Hewinkedat me, goddamn it!

“Sure,” he shouts back up at me. “Go for it.” That earns him a round of applause too, and I grin at him. He smiles back, and I’m glad nobody else can see that smile, because it is downright wicked.

“All right. Mr. James, what star sign am I?”

“I have no clue at all, but your birthday is September Ninth.”

I’m genuinely surprised he knows that, but I suppose it is in my employee file. “Correct. That makes me a Virgo, by the way.”

“Good to know. Make sure to order yourself some flowers from me. Or diamonds, if that’s what you prefer.”

The room erupts into wolf whistles and cheers at that one, and I join in with the laughter. I can’t believe I’m standing up here in front of all these people, verbally jousting with Drake. He’s kind of flirting but doing it so publicly that it almost doesn’t count—the room full of witnesses makes it harmless banter. At least to them. His knowing smile almost melts my panties off, but they don’t know that.

“Okay. Next question. Am I a dog person or a cat person?”

He chortles and says, “Trick question. You like dogs and cats, but when you were a kid, you kept rabbits.”

Wow. He’s totally right, but I genuinely don’t remember telling him that. It’s hardly sexy pillow talk, but I suppose it must have crept out at some point on the night of the wedding—it definitely wasn’t on my job application. “Very good, Mr. James. You must have been paying attention in class.”

“Well, you’re an excellent teacher, Miss Ryder. Next question?”

“Right. Okay… What’s my middle name?”

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