Present Day
Laken
Back to Jack from Titanic.
Even when he knows the ship is going down, and will most likely end up as shark bait, the dude keeps his game face on. It’s like no matter how many icicles hang from his perfect blond hair or how blue his lips get, the dude has this never say die attitude.
You have to respect that. I mean, I think you have to respect that. The chips are down, the band is playing that annoying as fuck song, and people are dropping like flies off the side into the frigid water, but that son of a bitch never gives up.
So why in the hell am I sitting on my couch at six a.m. in an evening gown, stuffing my face, half drunk, and feeling sorry for myself when I should be pulling a Jack and climbing to the top of my own sinking ship instead of going down with it?
Good question. Maybe because I’m a fucking glutton for punishment. Or a moron. Or hopelessly in love. Can you be in love after only three weeks?
Yes. Never mind. I’m answering my own question. Yes, you can, because I’m head over heels in love with Niall Mackay. I just didn’t know it until I lost him. And now, after making myself sick off ice cream and cheap wine, I know now there’s only one thing left to do.
Tossing the demolished ice cream carton on the coffee table, I chuck the spoon across the room and discard the empty wine bottle on the couch cushion. The ship may be sinking, but it hasn’t gone completely under yet.
I’m going to do what I should’ve done six hours ago. I just hope it’s not too late.
Picking up my phone, I call for reinforcements. The minute she picks up, I don’t even bother with pleasantries. “Do you still have the security tapes we saved on that flash drive for a rainy day?”
“Of course,” Lollie says as if offended I’d even ask. “Why?”
“Email them over to me.”
“Why?” she repeats, a slight edge in her tone.
“Because there’s about to be a fucking tsunami.”
***
Threatening Gloria Hammerle ended up being the highlight of my year. No, I take that back. Having her cave under pressure and dissolve into a bucket of tears at my feet was the highlight of my year. Threatening her just felt fucking fantastic.
Spending the better part of a decade as the Hammerle housekeeper, Lollie had made friends with the gardener, the chef, the maintenance workers, and most importantly, the head of security. Not surprisingly, they all loathed Gloria as much as we did and took great pleasure in passing along security tapes of every debaucherously sordid sexual escapade she had on the grounds. Lollie had kept them all on a backup file, calling them her little insurance policy for a rainy day.
With Gloria still threatening to have Niall fired and Sophie thrown out of Ravenhill, as I ran out of the Tate & Cane party, I knew the floods were rising and I had to act quickly. Convincing Lollie to be my partner in crime wasn’t hard. She’d been waiting for a moment like this and gleefully emailed me every pornographic detail that was now burned into my retinas for all of eternity.
With the blackmail in my hand, it was almost poetic to have Gloria meet me at the same park where I’d first met Niall. Perfect for justice to be served. Once I showed her the footage, she folded like a cheap house of cards. Gone was the bravado of Lady Hammerle, her nose stuck so high in the air she’d trip over a pebble and break her fucking neck. All that was left on a bench in Central Park was a woman in a velour track suit with mascara running down her face as she begged me not to send the file to her husband.
Apparently, there was a prenup. And that prenup included a cheating clause.
Do you see the shit-eating grin on my face? Just wait, it gets better.
With a written agreement—because I’m not a moron—Gloria agreed to leave Niall and Sophie alone, and to step down from the board of directors of Tate & Cane as well as give me visitation rights with Preston.
Didn’t think I had that kind of power, did you? Yeah, me either.
But apparently, when your bare ass is on the line—and the pool table, and the chaise lounge, and the kitchen island—then a shift of power can happen in the grunt of an orgasm.
See what I did there?
Now, half an hour after Gloria ran off in a sniveling mess, I’m still here. I’m still sitting on a bench in Heckscher Playground, staring at the same slide where two unsupervised children started a chain of events that landed me right back in the same spot. Only this time, I’m alone and the only thing that’s unsupervised is my life. My future.
My hands shake as I type out the text I swore I wouldn’t send. Twenty-eight days. That’s all our pretend engagement was supposed to last in their eyes. For three weeks, Niall and I met at this same spot and built something that neither of us expected or wanted.
One promise unfulfilled.
Staring at the ring still on my hand, I give it a twirl and hit send.
Me: So, I’m here at the park. Obviously, you’re not. It’s 2:00 p.m. on Sunday, so I’m banking on the fact that you’re a creature of habit. Don’t let me down.
4:00 p.m.
Me: Two hours. Wow. You sure like to make a grand entrance, huh?
6:00 p.m.
Me: Okay, if you insist. I forgive you.
Yeah, that one’s a stretch, I admit it.
Waiting for him is hopeless. I knew that the minute I sat down. But four hours later, here I am, watching every person who walks by, praying by some twist of fate that he decides to forgive me and shows up for our normal standing Sunday date at Central Park. It’s not like he’s given me anything but radio silence since last night.
I don’t know what I’d hoped for. Maybe a Hail Mary? An olive branch? A miracle? I feel like screaming while pulling my hair out and crying until I give up at the same time. A stabbing pain radiates from my chest as I glance down at my phone again, my hope fading as I send one last text.
Me: I still have your ring. If you won’t talk to me, at least give Vince my number so I can arrange to give it to him so he can return it safely to you.
7:30 p.m.
Me: For what it’s worth, despite everything, I fell in love with chocolate ice cream. More than you’ll ever know.
One of my favorite movies is Never Been Kissed. It’s one of those “come from behind” flicks where the heroine has a secret hidden agenda the whole movie. The heroine goes undercover and pretends to be a high school student to get the digs on a teacher, Mr. Coulson who has the hots for her. Gross, right? Only she ends up falling for him and fucks it all up.
Kind of like I did. Except after the heroine’s disastrous reveal, the hero realizes he’s in love with her and blah, blah, blah, her heart was truly in the right place. He shows up at the very last minute, right as all seems lost, and sweeps her into a passionate kiss while someone starts a slow clap in the background and everything ends with some uplifting music and shit.
Well, reality check. Real life is no rom com, and there’s no happily ever after for me.
Packing up, I lift my hand and let the sun sparkle through the brilliant stone on my hand one more time before I slip it off. Life doesn’t end up like it does in the movies.
No matter how hard you try to do the right thing.
***
We are pleased to offer you an internship with Tate & Cane Enterprises. We’re impressed with your skills, and are positive your qualifications are well-suited to our immediate needs. Enclosed you will find a Tate & Cane welcome packet as well as information pertaining to your start date and division assignment. Welcome aboard.
I could say that two weeks later, I held the fourth letter from Tate & Cane in my hands—the golden ticket, the one—and it’s as sweet as I imagined it’d be.
I could say that. But I’d be a fucking liar.
It’s bittersweet. I don’t feel the euphoria of finally landing the job of my dreams. Maybe because it cost me everything. Yes, I managed to secure the internship on my own, and I guess that’s something to be proud of, but the pain I caused? The look of disappointment in Niall’s eyes when Gloria and Preston outed me? That, I’ll never be proud of. I’ll never recover from that for as long as I live.
Getting dressed for my first day on the job should be monumental, right? It should be like the first day of high school, where you can hardly sleep. Where you get up way before time for the alarm clock to go off, just so you can pick out the perfect outfit and make sure you look like a million bucks to start the final leg of your adolescence. Instead, I slept through my alarm, barely made it in the shower, and pulled out the least wrinkled business suit I could find from my closet.
Grabbing a disposable coffee cup, I fill it to the rim and make my way toward my first day of work when my phone rings. My heart skips a beat, and for a moment I pretend it’s Niall calling to forgive me for everything. But the minute I glance at the caller ID, my stomach falls to my feet and that one spark of hope returns to a black void.
Keeping my head down, I make my way toward Madison Avenue as I answer the phone and force a cheerfulness I don’t feel. “Are you ready to jump ship and come be my assistant?”
“Funny girl! You are an assistant.”
“Just goes to show how much you know. Assistants can have assistants these days. Welcome to the new corporate America.”
Lollie laughs as I weave my way through the throngs of pedestrians on their way to work in midtown Manhattan. “I just called to wish you luck. How does it feel to finally get everything you’ve ever wanted in life?”
“Not at all like I expected.”
“I know,” she says quietly. After spilling my guts to her about the disaster which shall not be named, Lollie and I have an understanding. I don’t speak of it and neither does she. It’s better that way. I need to move on with my life and stay focused. Living in the past and wallowing in a river of what-ifs will only drown me.
“How’s my little dude?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
“Missing you. He still talks about you all the time.”
“I miss him too.” After Gloria fired me on the spot, she’d refused to let me see Preston. Besides Lollie, I was one of the only constants in his life, and it tore at my heart to know he probably thought I’d abandoned him. Luckily, my little chat with Gloria in the park cured that. Although with my new job, I won’t get to see him nearly as often as I’d like. I know what it feels like to be abandoned. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
“He keeps asking about the wedding, you know.”
I rub my forehead, creases wrinkling under my fingers. “Wedding?”
“The one his mother announced at the gala. He told me all about it. He says you and Niall are getting married. He’s been practicing walking you and Sophie down the aisle in front of all the mirrors.”
I should’ve seen this coming. Beyond Niall and me, I should’ve realized there are two other innocent lives we tangled up in our web of deceit. During our planning and fake courtship, Sophie and Preston had forged a real friendship. Not the fake kind Niall and I forced, but one based on innocence and honesty.
“The ceremony might get a little awkward when the groom doesn’t show up.” I manage a dry laugh and cross the street to my new office building. “He hasn’t returned my calls for weeks, Lollie. It’s over. I blew it.”
“I refuse to believe that.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic, you know that?”
“So are you.”
“I used to be. But I’ve decided that stuff’s not for me anymore. I’m over it. Done.”
“You’re right. I mean, those kind of movie kisses and happily ever afters don’t happen in real life. Especially like that dumb kissing scene in The Notebook, which is the worst movie of all time.”
“Oh my God, shut up!” I yell as I pull open the door to the skyscraper that will be my new home from eight to five every workday. “The Notebook is the greatest love story of all time. That kiss? Holy shit, that’s the greatest kiss in movie history, Lollie, what’s wrong with you? The thunder? The rain? The boat? Are you kidding me? They’re all wet and he tells her it’ll never be over, and she goes to scream at him and he shuts her up with a kiss! No happily ever after trumps a shut-up kiss.”
Silence beats a few moments before I hear her smugness through the line. “Told you—hopeless romantic.”
Letting out a frustrated scream, I pull the phone away and yell into the mouthpiece. “I’m hanging up on you now.”
As I make my way to the elevators, I make a mental note to throw out all my copies of The Notebook when I get home.
***
I’m single-handedly keeping Starbucks in business.
Two weeks into my internship and I think I’m about to break a record for most hours worked. I’m not kidding. Beyond my classes and homework, I live, eat, and breathe Tate & Cane. I’m the first one in the office on Monday morning at dark o’clock and the last one to leave on Friday night. Sometimes Vince and I even work on Saturdays.
Yes, I said Vince. I’m personal assistant to Vincent Tribiotti. Don’t get any ideas. We’re strictly professional. I know he has a reputation, and trust me, I’ve even seen it in action a few times. However, Vince has been nothing but on the up and up with me. Maybe it’s because he respects me. Maybe it’s because I was fake engaged to his best friend for four weeks. Who knows.
At least he has the decency to never mention Niall, and for the most part, I haven’t had to deal with seeing him around the office. Niall’s job keeps him on location most of the time and out in the public eye. Vince and I work behind the scenes on projects, and that’s just fine with me. I don’t need any reminders of what I lost.
“I need projections for the Halpert account, Laken,” Vince says, taking the double espresso I brought him on my morning coffee run. “I need them bound in a report along with graphs, pie, bar, line, all that shit. I need it all.”
My brows rise. “By one o’clock? Are you serious?”
“Come on, Laken. You’re resourceful. You can do this. If we’re going to save this account, I need you with me.” Stopping in the middle of the hallway leading to the breakroom, he settles a hand on each of my shoulders and holds my stare. “Are you with me?”
“I’m with you, I’m with you…” I nod emphatically while wondering when in the hell I’ll have time to breathe, much less get all this done before noon.
With ten minutes to spare, I close fifteen folders and pack them up, ready to make Vince shine in the meeting. I’ve done my job, and hopefully I’ll be able to ride his coattails far enough for someone to notice me. That’s all it takes around here—to get noticed. Then you’re gold.
I follow Vince into the meeting and take my seat beside him. He gives my hand a pat as he stands up and addresses the Halpert delegates.
“As you know, we’ve worked on your account for many years, and while our relationship has always been a mutually beneficial one, we thought it was time to shake things up a bit.” Moving stealthily from chair to chair, Vince charms everyone, and I smile at his presence. For all his faults, the man can work a room like nobody’s business.
“Shake things up how?” an older man representing Halpert asks.
“I’m glad you asked, Joel.” Vince throws his hands out and mimics a big screen. “I’m thinking a larger scale marketing campaign like no one has ever seen before. And with the help of my amazing assistant,” he lays a heavy hand on my shoulder, “and artwork by a photographer that will blow you away with his eye for detail, we’re going to take the market by storm.”
If you’ve made it this far in this story, you know where this is going, right? I’m glad you do, because I sit there like a fucking dumbass just grinning like a cat on Quaaludes while Vince works his magic.
I thought I’d turned a corner. But shit never goes like it’s supposed to go. That’s not life, and that’s sure as hell not my life. Because karma is a bitch, and she’s dressed up in thigh high fuck-me boots as she walks tall and proud behind him, five minutes late to the meeting, and flips my world upside down.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone. I had to drop my daughter off at school. Traffic was a bleedin’ nightmare.”
I stop breathing. The visceral reaction from just hearing his voice tears me to shreds. I will myself not to look at him, but my eyes refuse to listen and take him all in. He looks even better than I remember. The navy blue suit he wears hugs him in all the right places, his crisp white shirt presses against his hard chest as his red power tie dominates the room.
I manage a smile, and he returns it with a scowl. My stomach twists until I realize Vince still has his hand resting on my shoulder. And that’s exactly where Niall’s eyes are glued. I think about shrugging Vince’s hand off, but at least I’m getting some kind of reaction out of Niall, and the heat in his eyes is just too tempting to pass up.
Yes, I know I’m walking a fine line here. Smoke and mirrors are exactly what got us in this mess in the first place. However, honestly? What do I have to lose? Smiling, I pat Vince’s hand and settle deeper into my seat as the sound of a pencil snapping in half fills the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I glance over and see Niall tossing the two halves onto the table and running his hands over his face.
Game on.
Again.
***
The meeting has barely ended, and as we file out of the conference room with Vince high-fiving every manager and executive at Halpert like they were off to the big game after a rousing pep rally, I feel a hand grab me around my elbow.
“Quiet,” Niall mumbles in my ear.
I stumble behind him as he drags me down the hallway and through the breakroom, his pace unrelenting and his grip hard. All the color is gone from his eyes, leaving only a pure black dominating stare. I don’t know what I’m in for as he drags me into a cramped supply closet, but by the predatory look on his face, it’s not an apology.
I take a step backward and raise my palm in an attempt to ward off his tirade. “Niall, please don’t start—”
Slamming the door, he spins me around and backs me against a wall of shelves stocked with office supplies. As my back crashes into the ledges, our lips clash, and it’s not gentle. It’s hurried and frantic and about as romantic as you’d think making out in a supply closet would be. But holy fuck, it’s hot. Immediately, my hands go to his waistband and jerk his shirt out from the confines of his belt, diving under it and raking over his hard chest.
Fuck, I’ve missed this chest.
I can barely breathe as he kisses me on my lips, my face, my neck, my hair, anything he can reach, his tongue is tasting, and I’m about to lose my mind. My head drops back, and I whimper as Niall groans and pulls my jacket off my shoulders. Unbuttoning the first few buttons on my dress, he jerks the lace of my bra down and trails a heated path from my chin to my breast. The minute his tongue scrapes over my over-sensitized nipple, I let out a moan that I’m certain can be heard all the way to the breakroom.
This is it. I’m going to die right here in this closet, because all I want is his touch. I’ll give up everything for it. Even the one thing I risked it for in the first place. Unable to stop myself from touching him, I reach out between our bodies and cup him, my blood boiling as his teeth graze over the tip of my nipple.
“Turn around and spread your legs,” he commands hotly, pulling back and licking his lips.
Just the sound of his voice almost makes me come on the spot, but I manage to lift my head and stare at him with an open mouth. “We can’t. Niall, someone will hear us. I just started this job,” I halfway protest, but I’m already curling my fist around the shelf in preparation of his onslaught. “I can’t…shit, I can’t get fired already.”
“Aye, I outrank your arse in this office.” He’s near losing control. Even in the short time we’ve been together, I know his accent always gets heavier when he’s angry or painfully hard. “Christ, Laken, just around and spread your feckin’ legs before someone comes in.”
Weeks of missing him and hating myself blind me to what’s right or wrong. All I can see is what’s in front of me and the sinful way he’s manipulating my body. And I know it’s only about to get worse. Or better.
Fuck, I can’t even think anymore, but I obey, and turning around, I grip the shelves and spread my legs. Even in the dim light, I can see the wicked grin that tips the corners of Niall’s mouth up from over my shoulder. After he jerks my skirt up around my waist, the sound of his zipper lowering catches my attention and he crowds in behind me, his rigid length settling between my ass cheeks.
“Were you trying to make me jealous today, Laken?”
My world is spinning as I feel him grab hold of the base of his cock and move my panties as he slides it between my slick folds. “No,” I groan, leaning my forehead against the shelf for support.
He pushes the tip in just enough to drive me insane. “No?”
“Niall…”
His hands come up in front of me and squeeze my breasts and I can’t help but push my ass backward in an attempt to force him inside me. I groan at the loss when, at the last minute, he pulls back out.
“I’ll ask again. Were you trying to make me jealous of my own friend today?”
“Yes! Fine, all right? Is that what you wanted to hear? You’ve frozen me out for the last three weeks.”
“Well, you have my full attention now. You want to talk…let’s talk.” He slams into me, and once he’s embedded as far as he can sink, he only stills for a moment before sliding back out and driving back in. He sets a punishing pace, and I welcome it. Because at the end of the day, I know I deserve it. It’s what I need to rid myself of this guilt. Maybe this is what will finally allow me to sleep at night.
One final fuck. The nail in the coffin.
But one fuck will never be enough with Niall. The heat and sensations between us will only make me crave him more. I know this as sure as I know my own name. Despite the forgiveness I crave, I have to tell him. Even if he tells me to go to hell.
“Niall, I—” But I’m cut off as he fists the back of my hair and pulls my head against his shoulder, continuing to thrust into me with a furious pace. Stars rain down behind my eyelids as I clench hard around him and spasm, exploding into a chorus of curses and cries of his name.
With two more punishing drives into my body, his breathing becomes ragged, and he lowers his lips to my ear, groaning in a hoarse voice as he comes deep inside me. “Mother, student, nanny, intern…I don’t give a feck who you are. No one will ever love you the way I love you. Do you hear me? No one.”
With the smell of sex surrounding us, everything becomes deathly silent in the tiny closet as Niall releases my hair. Biting my lip, I think of all the things I should be saying the minute he zips up his pants, but before I can get a word out, he punches the shelf and lets out a string of curses as he slams the door on his way out.
I’m left alone in a darkened supply closet with my own shame. Only, I have none. That guilt I should feel for fucking a fellow employee at work? Yeah, that piece of conscience is waiting outside with earplugs.
And that tiny spark of hope? That one that struggled to stay lit when I saw him walk into the meeting? It’s now a burning inferno, and any thoughts I’d had of walking away from Niall Mackay are now shot to hell with one admission that I know he never meant to voice.
He loves me.