Page 12 of Rules in Love
I didn’t know what ripper meant, and I didn’t care because his strong-looking fingers then moved toward my face. Time slowed. My stomach knotted. His eyes flicked to mine, and his cheeks flushed red as his thumb brushed and dragged down the edge of my lip. “You had a noodle on your…” Suddenly, he froze, then the same hand shot through his dreamy curls. He puffed his cheeks, exhaled loudly, and backed away. “Right, three it is.”
“Wow. That was hot.”
I’d forgotten Teddy was beside me. “Yeah.” I sighed. “I really need to use a napkin.”
“Why? I’d walk around with a rotisserie chicken on my face if it meant he’d touch me like that.”
I had no recollection of anything I did between one and two fifty-two pm.
None. Zero. Zilch.
Actually, that’s not true. I panicked, ate three doughnuts and a fucking amazeballs thing called a bear claw, and drank a liter of coffee. My surroundings were only heightening my insecurities. I was in conference room A. It was the big money room with the best tech, the comfiest seats, and the view of our cherry blossom tree.
Until today, my authorized entry to this space was limited to note-taking during meetings and bringing a man in a suit some coffee like a good little girl. Unofficially, though, I’d sneak in here to cry when the restroom was full, and sometimes, I ate my lunch here too, pretending I belonged while relaxing in the high wing chairs and gazing out the window. My mood determined the object my eyes fixed on. When career driven and focused, it would be what I could see of the city surrounding me and the endless possibilities that dwelled within it. When feeling more worried, stressed, or homesick, it was the garden. I pictured myself beneath the cherry tree, watching how its branches would bend with the breeze, always accepting its fated direction, never resisting, never questioning, just going with the flow. I yearned to be like that tree far more than that cold, rigid city. But for now, those steel giants and the money encased within them were much more in control of my future than I wanted them to be.
“Miss Scarlett, may I have a word?”
“Hmm, yes. Yes, of course, Mr. Wise.”
“Now, we’ve talked about this before. It’s Herman, not Mr. Wise—he’s my father.” He chuckled heartily at his joke as I considered at what age you should stop using that line. I would hazard a guess and say old Hermie was well past that point.
“Sorry, what can I do for you, Herman?”
He sat beside me and took the world’s most indiscreet look at my breasts. “When Mrs. Crane comes in today, I don’t want you to overreact or become emotional should she choose Finn’s design. You should feel honored that a young designer such as yourself was asked to prepare something. A wealthy woman like Mrs. Crane need not be concerned about showing her understandable bias. In this city, it’s not what but who you know.” Herman groaned as he stood, patronizingly patted me on the head, and left. Finn, who I hadn’t noticed entering the room, followed his exit with a scowl, and then gave me a sympathetic smile.
I refused to acknowledge his gesture. A rash conclusion had already formed in my mind. Herman’s condescension served as a timely reminder of how the world worked. This firm had the facade of a modern, equal-opportunity one, but underneath the thin veneer, the old boys’ club reigned supreme—just as it had in England. As for Finn, perhaps all he cared about was getting this job, making out to everyone that he was sweet and fair by giving poor, little Scarlett—the most inexperienced designer here, APART FROM HIM—a shot, when clearly, I had none.
My blood boiled. Finn wandered over, leaned in close, and put his hand on my shoulder. My traitorous body fluttered head to toe at this unprecedented touching, but I was too pissed off to enjoy the rush. “She’s here, Scarlett. Are you ready?”
“Definitely. Let’s get this over with so I can get back to nothing, eh?” I shrugged his hand away, and that still-furrowed brow of his almost turned itself inside out. But I didn’t care. I was too busy trying to breathe through the rotten stench of nepotism.
“Are you alright, mate? Did I do something to upset—”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not your mate,” I mumbled under my breath, unsure if I wanted him to hear me or not.
“Scarlett? Wait—”
It seemed entrance-making was genetic. Interrupting her beloved nephew, Jocelyn Crane rolled in like she should have theme music pumping through speakers wherever she went. Carrying plans tucked under her Armani-clad arm, her regalness saved me from a conversation I didn’t want to have. After greeting her, Finn and I sat opposite each other at the large boardroom table while Jocelyn hovered by a wall-mounted bench beneath the window. There lived an impressive drink and snack station and fancy indoor plants that I would kill in five seconds. Both drumming our fingers on the table, Finn and I watched as she trickled water into a glass so slowly each drop could be counted. Thankfully, I didn’t need to go to the loo. It would have been torture. Her eyes flared as she sipped, and every swallow was exaggerated.The woman loves the limelight as much as Teddy. I should introduce them.
“Ahhh,” she sighed, “that’s better.” She placed the glass down and began to pace. “Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I’ve already spoken to the partners and informed them of my decision. But I wanted to speak with you two personally.” She looked at Finn and me, then smirked, much like Cruella De Vil would at the poky little puppy. A chill ran up my spine. “I’m going on holiday but wanted to run this past you before I fly out.” I couldn’t help but sneak a peek at Finn. He seemed surprised.Did he not know about her vacation? Maybe they weren’t as close as I thought.“Open those plans, and tell me what you think.”
Does she always talk like this? So, demanding and bossy.I didn’t much like being on the receiving end of it, but I couldn’t help but admire her grit. “I see two designs I love and two designers that could make magic together.”
Poor Finn—no, not poor Finn, Poop-head Finn went white as a ghost and rubbed his hand down his face. I was so busy studying his reaction I didn’t process the words that inspired it. “I will be in France for one month, and while I do have a favorite, I cannot choose between your designs. Both contain elements of what I want, but neither captures it fully. You two,” she said, pointing between Finn and me, “will design my forever home together.”
That, I got. The collective thud of our chins hitting the floor garnered attention office wide. Like finned inhabitants of an aquarium, we were ogled at through the glass walls. Fittingly, Finn’s mouth flapped like a fish gasping for air while I watched on, wholly bemused and at immediate risk of floating on my back.
I—and Herman, for that matter—had misread the situation and not given Jocelyn enough credit. A collaboration wasn’t what I had hoped for, but it was better than what I was expecting. Still, even if he wasn’t a massive nepotistic dickwad, there was no way I could work directly with Finn. I was one breathy, whispered word away from orgasm when he touched my hand, for Christ’s sake. How could I sit beside him for hours on end, smelling his smell, eyeing his eyes? Protests I hoped would sound more professional than my first thoughts (but I like him, I hate him, he’s too hot, do I have to talk to him?) formed in my mind, but I was beaten to the punch.
“Jocie, I… She… I haven’t worked on a project with someone else…well, not since uni,” Finn stammered, watching me from the corner of his eye while his tapping hit overtime.
“Lucky for you, it’s only been a short time since you graduated.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to hear any buts. You know what I’m like once my mind is made up and made up it is. You want my business, then you do this my way.” She began to play on her phone until both of ours buzzed repeatedly. “I’ve just sent you both a list of everything I want. Study it. Perfect it. When I come back, we will meet again, go over the ideas, and I will choose between the current front-runner or your joint creation. Now, off you go, young people. Hop to it.”
I was speechless. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I’d be damned if I didn’t respect the fuck out of that woman and officially wish to become her when I grew up. Then I remembered I was a grown-up, had a son, and my ability to feed him very much depended on my employment. This was a big deal.
