Page 50 of Vicious Arrangement
“Shit dude, turn it off.”
This time, I pick up the paperwork and read through it. It’s good I make some notes and have my assistant run it to Felicity. It comes back and we’re agreed. We can discuss it with Mark.
Fucking vice president. He’d be better off in a different position or perhaps sharing it with Felicity.
I choose her to run things by because I noticed her as I worked my way up, everyone else either try to befriend me or make my life hard because, y’know, nepo baby bullshit.
Oscar treated me worse because of who I was. There were no privileges, and I had to work harder than anyone else, longer, and sure, I partied, and got judged.
But yeah, the reason I like Felicity is she’s smart, talented, and never once treated me as anyone other than a colleague. If I fucked up, she told me. If I did well, she told me. She also helped, too.
But the document is good, and I get up, right as my phone flashes. It’s seven p.m.
Aria:when will you be home?
Then she texts:It’s about dinner.
My fingers itch to text back. But I put the phone in my pocket instead.
I go and knock on Felicity’s door. “Hey Noah.”
“It’s good. Excellent, we can?—”
“Mark left an hour ago. But we can bring him up to date tomorrow. The board’s on board, and you’re the one with the most shares, anyway…”
“Mark gets pissed if he’s left out.” To be fair, I make myself add, “which I get. He thought he’d have my job.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“I’ll set up the meeting, but… you present it. You did most of the work.”
“Me?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “I wish I could move you up in the hierarchy.”
But she laughs. “Once I wanted the most tippy job I could have without owning the company, but I have the right amount of responsibility. But next pay raise cycle, I’ll take one.”
“Under advisement.” I salute her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When I get off the elevator in the marble and glass foyer, I say goodnight to the security man, and I call my car and step outside.
Aria hasn’t texted back. I’ve probably disappointed her, but I’d rather she learn that now.
If I go home and she’s cooked, prepared some candlelit romantic dinner—okay, just dinner, or ordered in for two, totally ignoring the healthy, balanced, and delicious meals in my fridge—then I know what’ll happen.
We’ll flirt, and that’ll lead to fiery banter and more flirting and touching, maybe some kissing and fuck.
Dinner with Aria’s probably going to lead to sex with Aria.
And I want that. Thinking about that makes my fucking skin and flesh heat, and my pants get tight, but don’t want the baggage.
I don’t want the feelings she’ll develop or all the questions about getting to know me. She doesn’t want that. No one does. I’m a fuck-up and a chip off the old block. Christ. If my grandfather couldn’t love me then who can? Okay, Josh, but four-year-olds aren’t great decision makers and Asher’s an idiot when it comes to loyalty and his heart. He’s trust and like anyone. Hell, he’ll probably fall for Katie, Aria’s friend. Which’ll just make things worse.
My car pulls up, and I get in.
I just don’t want to go home and get tempted by Aria, but I also just want to go home and be tempted. I’m a mess. I call Asher.
I roll my eyes when he doesn’t answer, so I text.Pick up your phone.
