Chapter Ten
At seven o’clock sharp, the phone on her desk rang. When she answered, Paul said from the other end of the line, “Mr. Andrade just exited the elevator. Do you want me to stall him?”
“No, Paul. It’s good. I’ll be right out.”
With a quick look in a compact mirror, Julia hesitated. If I freshen my lipstick now, it’ll look like I did it for him. Like I’m expecting him to ask me out again. She made a face in the mirror and chided herself.
It’s more likely that he’s looking for a way to dismiss me without this becoming a big deal. He’s had time to think about it and he’s as embarrassed as I am by what we did—or almost did.
She decided to apply a fresh coat of lipstick after all. I’m going to need all the help I can get to survive hearing him list why sex with me is no longer a good idea.
With one final fortifying breath, she opened the door and walked out into the foyer. Mistakes are like ladder rungs to success. Embrace them. Learn from them. She couldn’t remember which article she’d found that quote in, but right then it didn’t matter. She was embracing that quote along with her mistakes. Hugging the shit out of both them, really.
And forcing a brave smile to her face. “Mr. Andrade.”
“Gio,” he said smoothly and took her by the arm, guiding her out of the foyer and out the front door of the building. “Let’s go outside,” he said, his tone giving no hint to where this conversation was headed.
“Sure,” Julia said slowly, keeping step beside him. Not that she had much of a choice. He wasn’t letting go of her arm. Oh, my God. Just tell me whatever it is you want to say.
After about a block, his pace slowed and his hold on her relaxed. Without looking down at her, he said, “About last night . . .”
Trying to sound casual, she said, “I vote we forget it ever happened and move on.”
He stopped and she nearly crashed into him. Even with people jostling around them on the sidewalk, the world seemed to disappear and nothing mattered but him and how she felt when she looked into his eyes. “Easier said than done.”
Tell me about it. She bit her bottom lip and waited, her heart beating wildly in her chest.
“I’ve told you how I feel about office relationships.”
Slam. Of course. Disappointment rose like bile in her throat. “Yes.”
“The only solution is you quit. You’re a distraction I don’t need at work. I’ll help you find another job. Not right away, of course. I’d like you to be free to travel with me. You’ll have to move, though. Your living arrangements are completely unacceptable. I’ll set you up in an apartment on the nice side of town. If you’re worried about money, I can give you a generous allowance.”
A slow burning anger started deep in Julia’s stomach. Between gritted teeth she said, “Sounds like you put a lot of thought into this offer.”
“I did,” he said, so calmly that she wanted to kick him.
“And never once did it sound offensive to you? I can’t believe I was upset because I thought you were going to say you didn’t want to see me again.” She threw her hair back over her shoulder. “You make me so angry I could strangle you.” She poked a finger into his suit-covered shoulder. “And not in some funky, paid-mistress way. I mean actually hurt you.”
He pulled her to him and the kiss they shared channeled her anger into a frenzied passion. Her hands flew to the back of his head and she ground against him, unable to deny the pull between them. His hands cupped her from behind, grinding her against his pulsing erection.
“Get a room,” someone said behind them, but the taunt wasn’t enough to pierce through their haze of sexual need. They stumbled backward against the side of a building, and Julia finally understood why people risked everything for this. There was something exquisitely, almost painfully, beautiful about giving in to a primal need and leaving the rest of the world behind.
His hand was sliding up her rib cage beneath her shirt when a camera flashed and someone said, “Got it.”
He pulled back. “Shit.” He reached for the photographer, but the young man was too fast and disappeared into the busy stream of people. His face tight with anger, and his eyes still storming with unfulfilled passion, he said, “This is exactly why we can’t continue as we are . . .”
Julia’s head was still spinning from the kiss. “I did not mean for that to happen.” She covered her lips with one shaking hand.
“I did.” He looked down at her intently and then, with his hand on the small of her back, guided her toward his office building. “Maybe now you’ll stop pretending we don’t want the same thing.”
She looked up at him sadly. “I don’t know what kind of women you’re used to dating, but I don’t want your money. I don’t need you to pay for an apartment for me. And I’m offended that you think I would.”
“Then tell me what you do want.”
Julia looked away and then back at him. She had difficulty forming coherent thoughts when he was around her, but if he cared enough to ask, then she felt he should get an honest answer. “All the normal stuff. Ask me out. Send me roses. I’m partial to pink ones.”
He didn’t look happy with her answer, nor did he flat out reject the idea. They reentered Cogent Solutions together. He walked her to the door of her station, not seeming to care that all eyes were on them as he did. “I don’t know what we’re doing, but God help me, I can’t stop myself when it comes to you.” After one final, deep kiss that left Julia sagging against the wall, he walked away.
Julia was still standing there, watching him go, when she heard Paul say, “See. When a woman is that beautiful, no man is immune.”
“Shut up, Paul,” Tom said.
Still floating from the kiss, Julia wasn’t bothered by the commentary. She returned to her station, sat down, and hoped no one decided to break into the building that night because her attention was definitely not on the monitors.
* * *
Back in his office, Gio sat down at his desk and picked up his phone. Years of erasing stories in the media had given him the contacts necessary to ensure that photo wouldn’t see print. It wasn’t an easy feat in this day of the Internet, but people rarely published anything unless there was potential profit in it. The trick to getting a story killed was to make sure that remaining silent was more profitable for the source; or safer for their career.
He preferred to keep things positive, but he’d go to whatever lengths he needed when it came to protecting what was his.
And Julia fit that definition, regardless of how she might try to fight it.
She would be his.
Even though she fought him at every turn. He closed his eyes as he remembered how he hadn’t cared who was around them on the street. He’d wanted her with such urgency that the photographer had done them a favor. A few more minutes and they might have started shedding clothing and given the press a story that even his contacts couldn’t squash.
He groaned. After years of judging Nick for chasing everything in a skirt and mocking his lack of control, Gio was coming to the humbling conclusion that he had his own Achilles’ heel—and her name was Julia.
And what did she want from him?
Flowers. He did a quick search on his phone for a flower shop, then placed an order that the florist repeated twice to make sure she’d heard correctly.
Would he like to include a message?
Oh, yes.