"Ashley?" I call out into the living room, which separates the hallway from our two bedrooms.The only answer I received is a long snore. I retreat to my room, shaking my head. If you asked her, she'd swear up and down she doesn't snore. At one point in the relationship Jonathan even recorded a playback for her the next morning, but Ashley still refuses to admit the bearlike sounds were coming from her. She accused him of stealing audio from the internet.Memories of their argument clench my heart as I remember the pain and anger associated with Jonathan now. None of us will look back at the last two years the same. And what causes someone you thought you knew so well to become a completely different person overnight?Has Jonathan always possessed the capacity to cheat lingering within him or did something recently set him on a different course? Why is he so angry? If I consider the last two times Ashley's been near Jonathan or his new girlfriend, it's ended in violence. I don't
It's not a long walk, six steps or so to my room on the left side of the apartment, and with each one he's right behind me. Good smelling and tall. Damn him.Valiant walks into the bedroom right up to the window, finding his building before he smiles."Vincent, what are you doing here?" I ask again.He turns, his smile bigger. "I like when you say my name. No more of this Mr. Valiant stuff.""Okay," I agree, sure he'll forget this tomorrow morning and yell at me the first time I call him Vincent. I remember the whole Mr. Valiant rule from my first day on the job. It was one of the few instructions I'd been given."I don't know what to do with you," he says, turning back to look through the window. "I keep making choices I can't take back. Each one leads me closer.""Closer to what?" I step to his side and search out the top floor of his building with him."To you, Ms. Marshal, and my impending doom," he says, the last part quieter, almost solemn. Like he's accepted a weir
Another day, another dollar, right? Isn't every day about that? Getting ready for work should not be this mind altering. But when your boss almost kisses you in the apartment he owns the night before, going to work on Tuesday morning is terrifying.Will he remember what happened last night? Will he regret it? What would be worse, a man forgetting your first kiss—even if it was only a brush of lips—or him regretting it?"You're up early," I say sticking my head out of the large walk-in closet when Ashley plops down on my bed.She shakes her head, her eyes still half closed as if she crawled off her air mattress less than a minute ago. "I'm exhausted from the last week. I need to get my shit together today.""It's not like you didn't have an excuse." She spent the last week dealing with an abusive boyfriend. I think the world can cut her slack.She lays back on my bed. "The bar exam waits for no one, Kens.""You don't need to study. You've got this," I say pulling a lilac-col
"There's a visitor here to see Ms. Marshal. Ashley Dartmouth." The man I know to stand over six-foot-five and be larger than a lumberjack sounds so formal, like he's introducing Ashley to a party."Send her up, Ronald, please." I release my finger from the button and wait for the elevator.Ashley will be super disappointed that the first time she visits me at work Vincent's not here to see her. Or rather her to ogle Vincent. Although, it's for the best. Who knows what he'd say or do if he knew I had a friend on the floor? There'd be "Ms. Marshals" everywhere.The elevator doors take longer than expected to open, but when Ashley walks out, she's wearing a cute white and pink dress that accents her frame. Her hair is curled into adorable spirals that fall at her shoulders. That took at least an hour.One eyebrow pops up as I ask, "What happened to studying?" The bar exam waits for no one crap she was spewing this morning.Ashley hates to be around people in the morning. She's m
The sun is already shining brightly as I walk out the front door of my apartment building. Living this close to work has its perks, and even though Vincent drives me insane in every possible way it's the first time since I took this job I truly feel as if I can do it. I'll spend the next few weeks fake smiling while he barks orders at me from his office, and then when it's all said and done, I'll take my position in marketing and have only the fantasies of our one shared almost-kiss.It's a great day, and I'm in a great mood. I've got this.My pleasant mood halts when I spot a large black SUV parked in front of my building. It's blocking an entire lane of traffic and doesn't seem to care. I only know one man with the balls big enough to do such a thing. My biggest worries are confirmed when Davis steps out from the driver's side and holds open the back door. I thought he and I had moved past this.There's a scowl on my face as I stop walking next to the vehicle. "Not this again.
THE FIRST HOUR of the trip we spend in complete silence. It leaves me hyper aware of everything in the small space of the vehicle. Vincent's cologne, a sporty sent that differs from the one he wore the other day. Pleasant, but not my favorite. The way he keeps his legs crossed at his ankles so his papers are level. His steadfast attention to the stack laid out on his thighs. Hell, the way his thigh muscles contract as we go over a bump in the road and he's forced to flex to keep the papers steady. The way his eyes narrow, creating small crow's feet at the corners when he spots an error in the reports before circling it with his bright red pen and leaving remarks in the margins. You can learn lots about a person from the corners of their eyes as you travel on the highway at seventy miles an hour."Would you stop fidgeting?" Vincent asks, with an irritated trill to his voice, drawing me out of a fantasy where he uses his determination and focus in other—non-PG—ways. I put a hand
It was close at the end, but I make it to the restaurant without puking in Vincent's lap. I'm almost disappointed. Wearing my puke on his expensive Armani suit would serve him right.Lunch may have taken forever to reach our table, but waiting more than sixty minutes for a pizza is worth it once our server brings out the large deep-dish pizza with the sauce on top, the cheese bubbling. When my fork cuts into the gooey goodness Chicago pizza finds a place in my heart. I've had it before, but this is the best."Kens, I'm so glad you enjoyed the pizza," Everett says as he walks my boss and me to the car. "I'll see you both in twenty," he says to Vincent, but his gaze never leaves my face... or chest. I can't be sure which. He's the contact we're here to see, and I won't cause a scene even if I want to.His gaze is unsettling, but my stomach is too full of cheesy goodness to care. The man might work with my arrogant pigheaded boss, but he got me to Chicago, and he fed me full of pizz
"Cake?" It's not what I expect, but I'm also not used to compliments. I'm not sure where he's going with the thought, and I don't want to agree to something that will get me in more trouble later.Vincent looks like he's going to have a heart attack on the other side of the table as he glowers in my direction, and I do my best to ignore him. I refuse to admit I'm in over my head."Yes, we have a bakery down the road. I told my assistant to swing by and pick up a small selection."Vincent huffs, his first outwardly expression since we sat. "I thought your assistant was working on revisions?"Everett laughs. "We'll get to that, my friend. First, I must make sure and feed everyone. We have the best pizza and cake in the country. Mackenzie needs to experience both."Vincent doesn't look impressed. He's not concerned with my cake consumption. "I think Ms. Marshal ate her share of pizza."My mouth drops open again and my cheeks heat in earnest this time, causing them to burn a re