Chloe

I step into the lobby of the Bishop Hotel at noon. It’s busy. There’s a line of people waiting to either check-in or out. I assume it’s to check out since every hotel I’ve ever stayed in wants its guests to clear their rooms by twelve o’clock so they can ready them for the tourists who arrive later in the day.

I scan the faces of the people waiting to approach the reception desk. Evan isn’t there. I glance over at a small seating area. There are two leather sofas and three chairs. Four people are gathered there, but they’re all women.

As I turn in a circle to take in the entire lobby, I glance at every dark-haired man that I see. Not one of them is Evan. The excitement that has been buzzing inside of me since I saw him this morning starts to fade.

He might have stood me up.

The thought of Evan bailing on me after our conversation this morning stings.

I know that I wasn’t imagining the way he was looking at me. There was hunger in his eyes when he saw me. He wanted me as much as I wanted him.

I start toward the lobby doors, intent on getting my ass back to my office where life is safe and predictable. I’m in control there. I know how to do my job and at the end of each day when I get home to my apartment, I’m content.

Maybe my life is as dull as watching paint dry. At least, I know what to expect almost every minute of every day.

“Jane?” A female voice calls from the left.

I ignore it because the only person who refers to me that way is Evan.

Just as I feel a light tap on the shoulder, the woman repeats the name. “Jane. You’re Jane, aren’t you?”

Before I can say another word, a bouquet of bright flowers is shoved into my hands.

“Evan told me to find the most beautiful blonde woman in the lobby, so you have to be her.”

I take the flowers before I look at the woman next to me. She’s a blonde too, the same height as me with blue eyes and a cheerful grin. She’s dressed in a white wool coat, black pants and knee-high black boots.

“You’re her, right?” She skims her fingers over her chin. “He didn’t have a picture of you, but the description he gave me was spot-on.”

I look around, not exactly sure what I’m searching for. “Where’s Evan?”

“He’s at the …” she stops herself mid-sentence. “Evan was called into work. I’m Vanessa, a friend of his. He asked me to come by and give you these.”

My gaze drops to the flowers in my hand and a white envelope that is tucked into the top of the bouquet. I tug it out from between the fragrant blossoms.

There’s only one word written on it in blue ink.

“Jane.”

“I need to get back to work.” Vanessa slides on a pair of black leather gloves. “I’m glad I found you. Evan told me not to come back until the flowers and note were in your hands, so my work here is done.”

***

I read the note Evan wrote me for a third time.

His handwriting is messy and uneven. The ink trails from one word to another but I can make out the message just fine.

“Jane,”

If I were an accountant or a lawyer who takes a normal lunch break, my cock would be in heaven right now.

Inside of you – heaven – that’s how good it feels.

Look, my life is controlled by fate.

It calls. I run like the wind.

Fate called today.

I’m sorry that her timing is completely fucked up.

I’ll be back at the Roasting Point Café the first chance I get.

Don’t give up on me.

I like your beautiful face and the rest of you.

Evan (That is my real name, “Jane.”)

P.S. I’m going to fuck your real name out of you the next time we’re together.

“Chloe?” Rocco asks as he walks into my office. “Why is it that our father sees fit to send you flowers on a Thursday for no reason? Do you know how many flower arrangements the old man has sent me? Zero.”

I laugh as I tuck the note back into the envelope and shove it into the pocket of my black dress. “He signed you up for that craft beer of the month thing for Christmas. I didn’t get that. Do you hear me complaining?”

“Duly noted, counselor.” He settles into one of my office chairs. “Gabi said you were free so I came right in. You’re not busy, are you?”

I’m not. I stopped to pick up a turkey sandwich and a fruit salad on my way back to my office after I left the hotel. The flower bouquet I was carrying around the streets of Manhattan caught a few quizzical looks.

It’s cold enough outside that I know the flowers will wither and die within a day, but for now, they’re in a vase that Gabi found in her desk drawer. I put them on the windowsill next to my desk so they’ll fall into my vision line every time I look out at the view of the building next door.

I can’t afford an actual view, so I’ve grown accustomed to the red brick façade that greets me when I open the metal blinds each morning.

“I’m never too busy for you.”

Rocco rolls his hand in the air. “For you, my favorite brother. You forgot to finish your sentence.”

I don’t have a favorite. Rocco is the one I feel most comfortable talking to about life stuff, but even that has a limit.

“I stopped by because I was in the neighborhood and Pop said some guy was giving you grief.” He eyes the flowers. “Are those from him?”

I study his profile. I know he wasn’t in the neighborhood. The words my father said to him are what brought him here. I barely even mentioned Evan to my dad the other night, but the Jones men are fiercely protective. This awkward conversation is proof of that.

“Your conference call is in five, Chloe.” Gabi appears in the doorway. “I can entertain your brother while you take care of business.”

Rocco turns back to look at her. “It’s a tempting offer, Gabi, but I’ve got business of my own to handle. Maybe another time?”

There will never be a time when my assistant hooks up with my brother. She’s always flirting with him and he tactfully shuts it down with a reasonable excuse and a killer smile.

“Everyone out.” I motion to the doorway. “I’ll talk to you later, Rocco, and tell dad I’m a big girl.”

He stands and buttons his coat. “You’re the baby of the family. You should be used to it by now. No man is going to hurt you again, Chloe. We won’t let it happen.”

I won’t either. My heart is locked away and there isn’t a bouquet of flowers or a handwritten note that will change that.