Page 16 of It Will Always Be You
“Enough of that.” I deliver an elbow to his side. The last thing I feel like dealing with is my best friend having a hard on beside me while thoughts of his better half run wild in his head.
“Wanker. Anyway, how’s that assistant of yours? Jack says Donna’s half in love with her, never mind you.” He smirks, pumping his eyebrows. A group of women make to approach us, flirty smiles on their faces and heat in their eyes. It’s a look I’ve seen a hundred times before. Hell, it’s one I’ve entertained before, but with a shake of my head, I dismiss them and refocus on Seamus. With a smirk and knowing eyes, he looks between me and the woman who’s already moved on to her next target.
“Shut up,” I grouse, looking away from him and back out at the floor. Bodies grind against one another to the beat of the music. Everyone is here to let go, to be wild for a night, to hell with responsibilities. I can’t remember the last time that was me. Life as a businessman by day and mafia heir by night doesn’t leave room for much else. But tonight, I’ve carved some time out to shoot the shit with Seamus, drink a few whiskeys, so that’s exactly what I do. If thoughts about Helen and what treat she’s going to have for me tomorrow trickle in well…that’s no one’s business but my own.
Chapter 13
Morning people are psychopaths. Legitimately. Like, one day you’ll be watching the news, and they’ll be wanted for murder, and you’ll wonder why until they mention that they were a morning person and then you’ll be like ‘ah, say less’. And people who are morning people on a Monday? They’re even more insane. Morning people simply can’t be trusted; clearly, their judgment is miles off. Or maybe they just don’t have to deal with the joyous thing that is an alarm clock jolting you out of your dreams—and if those dreams feature my criminally hot boss, then that’s between me, myself, and I. With a groan, I scramble to turn my alarm off before dragging myself out of bed.
It’s been over a week since the fundraiser, and in that time, the photo of me pressed up against Jonathan has been plastered everywhere. Seeing myself on the front page of all the major newspapers had a ball on anxiety lodged in my throat, the fear that at any moment, I would be ripped from my life and thrust back into Angus’ orbit made it impossible to focus on anything else. Even the beauty of the picture couldn’t pull me from my worries, but as the days passed without anysigns of being caught out, that anxiety has died down to the gentle simmer that’s my norm.
At this point, there’s nothing I can do about it. What’s done is done, and all I can do is hope that by some miracle, I’m still coasting by under his radar. Surely enough time has passed for him to have found his next victim and forget I ever existed. I would bet my entire pay cheque the only person who still cares is Freya. Thinking about her is like a stab to the heart, one I’m well used to at this point. Tucking her memory back into the box I guard with my life, I focus on getting ready for the day ahead. I can fall apart later, but for now, I’ve a part to play.
Pairing a fitted white blouse with a black pencil skirt and securing half my hair back with a claw clip, I call it a day. Jonathan can suck it up if it’s too basic for him; Mondays are the epitome of doing the bare minimum. With an iced latte in hand, I make the now familiar commute to the office. While the early hour leaves much to be desired, the hush of the lazy morning is always something I enjoy. It’s the calm before the storm; the last chance I’ll have to savour my coffee in peace before I get to the office and hit the ground running in an attempt to stay ahead of Jonathan’s demands. While he’s more bark than bite, his bark is still annoying enough to want to avoid it at all costs.
Exiting the tube, I’m immediately assaulted by suits, ties, and ego. The sun hasn’t even fully risen, but Canary Wharf is a hub of activity already, with everyone shaking off the remnants of sleep, guzzling their coffees, and getting ready to make their billions. Making my way through the office, I wave at Tina before heading to the lift and heading up to the top floor.
I’m in the middle of firing off a few emails and sending things to the printer to prepare Jonathan’s morning briefing, only to freeze in my tracks when he comes strolling in a full forty minutes earlier than scheduled. I make a show of looking at my watch as I quirk a brow at him.
“Who kicked you out of bed?” I tease, springing up to get hiscoffee, only to just about lose my shit when I clock the coffee cups from the cute artisan place across the street in his hands. Coffee cups- plural.
“Here, you’ll need this. I’ve got to be across town for the meeting with Alan and Sons at eight, and you’re coming with me,” he says without even pausing his stride into his office. Trailing after him, I watch as he picks papers up, seemingly at random, before he looks up at me with a frown. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get your stuff gathered. We’re on a time crunch.”
“I know you’re the big boss and all that but, Jonathan, it’s not on my schedule. I’m meant to be here, getting that research for tomorrow’s meeting finalised and fielding your calls. If I go with you, then...” I trail off, watching as he picks up his phone without removing his eyes from me.
“Donna? Get Saul to cover Helen’s to do list. She’s coming with me.” Without even waiting for an answer, he hangs up and raises a brow at me in silent challenge. I should be pissed at his domineering behaviour, but something about a man taking charge to get what he wants is unfairly sexy. Heat rushes to my core despite my best efforts to remind myself this man is firmly off limits. Holding up my hands, I back out of the room with a shake of my head and make quick work of switching out my shoes and checking for flyaway hairs.
“You look perfect. Let’s go.”
Where did my grump of a boss go, and who is this in his place? Perfect? Since when does he lay compliments at my feet? God damn, this whole morning has been a whirlwind, and it’s not even eight. He wasn’t wrong when he said I was going to need the extra caffeine.
I hurry after him as we make our way to the car park. Leading me over to his sleek black Bugatti, he clicks a button on his keys to unlock it and holds my door open. Something about a man holding doors open scratches an itch in my brain just right. Not looking at him, I duck under his arm and get in. Watching as he rounds the car to get in, I use those precious moments to take a few deep breaths and centre myself. Big mistake. Now, my lungs are full of his cologne—musk,cigars, and cedarwood. The combination makes me want to roll around in it like a dog in heat.
What would Father say if he saw me now, I wonder? Here I am, in the enemy’s car, more at ease than I ever was at ‘home’. The irony that the safest I’ve ever felt is in Jonathan’s presence is not lost on me, nor is the danger. This whole thing could explode in an instant. All it would take is one wrong move, one slip up, but God, do I pray it doesn’t happen. I’m not ready to give this up just yet.
The morning passes in a blur of marketing talk I only half understand while I scribble down notes. By the time Jonathan wraps it up with handshakes and promises of a follow up call, the morning is long gone. As soon as we’re back in the car, I’m past the point of caring, toeing off my heels the second Jonathan closes my door. Mother would have a heart attack if she saw me doing something so crass in public, which just makes it all the more satisfying to stretch out my stocking-clad feet in the footwell and relish in the satisfying crack as I roll my ankles.
“I don’t know why you bother wearing those if they hurt so bad,” he grumbles from the driver’s seat, putting an arm around the back of my chair as he reverses. The sexiness that one action possesses should be studied.
“I don’t always wear them, only when the day calls for it. Flats hardly send the same message,” I try to explain.
“And what message is that? I’m suffering, but at least I’m a few inches taller?” he mocks with a teasing glint in his eye and a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Seriously, who is this guy, and where’s my grumpy, monosyllabic boss?
“There’s a reason they say beauty is pain. It’s a power thing; you wouldn’t understand. I mean, why would you? It’s a man’s world. I doubt you’ve ever had someone doubt your abilities just because of what’s between your legs.” I scoff at the unfairness.
“You don’t need any of that shit. And the next time someone questions your abilities, you come to me, got it?” The barely concealedthreat in his tone has me clenching my thighs and praying he doesn’t notice. Now is not the time to get the hots for my boss. And even if he wasn’t my boss, Jonathan is firmly off limits to me. Forever. He has to be, for my self-preservation. And yet, I find myself looking at him through new eyes. Today has shown me all kinds of sides to him I’d never seen before, and the urge to dig deeper, to learn more, is eating at me. Shaking it off, I offer him a smirk and a ‘Yes, sir,’ taking great joy in the way a muscle in his jaw clenches.
“You hungry?” He changes gears both figuratively and literally, and I don’t know whether to look at his veiny forearms or the unfamiliar road he’s taking us down.
Frowning at the sudden change of subject, I shrug. “Sure. I could eat.”
“Good,” is all he says before making an abrupt turn down a side street. As far as I can tell, we’re going in the complete opposite direction to the office. Surely, there are lunch spots closer to the office.
“Would it not make more sense to head the other way? Save a bit of time and all that.”
“Sweetheart, I’m the CEO. I make the rules, but I sure as shit don’t adhere to them. Plus, didn’t you hear? Rules were created to be broken.” The dark promise in his words speaks to more than lunch. Sinking lower in my seat, I watch the scenery blur by, listening to the music playing softly on the radio as a cool autumn breeze floats in my rolled down window. It’s not long before he’s pulling up to a quaint little café and once again holds my door open for me.
“This is where you wanted to come?” I frown, looking around the place as we make our way in and seat ourselves. None of the men back home would be caught dead somewhere so common. Father would have a fit if he knew I was about to eat somewhere like this. It’s absolutely perfect.
