Chapter Thirty
Josephine
’d been given one night off in the middle of my NYFW job, and I’d spent it hanging out with naked old people. Not only that, I’d dragged Julian along with me. There wasn’t enough eye bleach in the world to clear the memories of that night from my brain, and I knew I had to make it up to Julian somehow.
“I need you to read through that contract the realtor sent over last night,” Julian instructed from his perch at his hotel room’s dining table on Monday morning. Papers were scattered out around him and we were knee deep into our work for the day. We’d yet to discuss Saturday night and I had no clue how to bring up the subject.
Maybe I could apologize with a tasteful ice cream cake. “Sorry for subjecting you to old lady boobs. Your best friend, Jo.”
“Jo?” he asked.
I glanced up and racked my brain for the task he’d just asked me to do. Oh yes, the contract.
“I read it this morning and highlighted the sections I think you should take a look at,” I answered.
“Good.” He nodded, typing away. “And we have a meeting with the general contractor for Lorena’s store tomorrow.”
I nodded. I may have subjected him to a terrible party, but I was a kickass personal assistant.
“I’ve scheduled a car to pick us up at 9:00 AM. We’ll be meeting the contractor at a coffee shop in Soho.”
“And the email Lorena sent over last night?” he asked, peering at me over the top of his laptop.
I smiled. “I replied first thing this morning.”
“Looks like you’re on top of your game, Keller,” he said with a seductive smile.
I stared at him for a moment before averting my gaze and staring back down at my keyboard. Hey vagina, let’s focus on other things right now. Like, oh I don’t know, WORK. It was his fault though. Perhaps I should have added one more rule the other night: no smiling with dimples. Frowning and flat smiles were allowed. Anything more and I couldn’t be held accountable for my hands or my lady bits.
“Did you see anyone interesting leaving your landlady’s apartment yesterday morning?” Julian asked, barely masking his amusement at my ridiculous life.
I closed my eyes and answered. “No, but Holly left my cupcake platter outside my door with a note that said ‘Thanks for the special treat’. She had washed the dish, but I don’t think it will ever be truly clean.”
He choked on his coffee.
“Never,” he agreed.
He stood up to grab a napkin and I plucked my mug from the coffee table for him to refill while he was up. (We’d established this system early on: if one of us got up, that person was responsible for coffee refill duties. No ifs, ands, or buts.) I used the moment to study him while he was preoccupied; those moments were part of my routine. While he was typing an email or making a phone call, I always took a moment to covertly watch him. He always had a warm complexion, but his tan had deepened from his early morning runs. He’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and the subtle veins on his forearm were enough to make me swoon. There was something about a guy with strong, defined arms. Or maybe it was just Julian.
“You have to move,” he said, turning back to flash a dimpled smile at me.
For a second, I didn’t understand what he meant. Like move from his couch? Dammit, this is why I shouldn’t be checking him out at work.
“Out of your apartment,” he clarified when I didn’t immediately reply.
Ah, duh.
“Believe me, I wish I could. Unfortunately, I can’t find a place that’s cheaper than my current lease unless I move to New Jersey or something.”
Julian frowned over the coffee cup, and I wondered what he was thinking.
“Don’t I pay you enough here?”
I swallowed and thought of how best to reply. Julian knew nothing about the debt I was swimming in. Sure, this job was decent, but between New York City rent, groceries, college loans, and the damn credit cards I’d used to purchase books and stuff in college, I’d need a lot more than an executive assistant salary to pay it all off. I didn’t want Julian to know about my money struggles. It wasn’t his concern, and I doubted he’d be able to understand. He came from old money and had made plenty on his own. I didn’t want him to look at me any differently.
“More than I’d make breakdancing on subway platforms,” I quipped with a fake smile.
Julian laughed and handed me back my mug full of coffee.
“You could always move in here,” Julian said, motioning to the master bedroom just off the suite’s living room.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s the one line you get today. Shock. Collar.”
He rubbed his neck with a feigned grimace. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just an offer. I’m a noble guy like that.”
“Sure you are.”
“Like when I rescued you from a swinger’s party.”
I laughed and covered my eyes, willing away the images that flashed through my mind.
“Let’s make a blood pact to never speak about it ever again.”
“Okay, but only after we tell Dean about it tonight.”
I glanced up and met his eye. “Tonight?”
“Yeah.” He frowned. “Didn’t I mention that we’re supposed to get drinks with him tonight? I cancelled on him for that party we agreed to never discuss again.”
I ran through my mind, trying to recall any mention of it. The only thing on my schedule for the day was work, work, and more work. From 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM I was with Julian, and then I had to run across town to Lincoln Center for a NYFW shift from 5:30 to 9:00 PM.
“I don’t think you ever told me about it.”
He shrugged. “Well, we’re heading over to The Merchant at nine o’clock. Are you interested in joining?”
I should have said no. God knew I’d be exhausted after my shift at Lincoln Center, but the idea of Julian and Dean alone in a bar together was enough to convince me. The two of them would attract women like moths to a flame, and even though he and I couldn’t date, it didn’t mean I wanted women flirting with him at the bar. No, with me there as a buffer, he’d have a harder time picking up women. I’d make sure of it.