Chapter 17

Gemma

I switched my phone on discreetly, while sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. Vincent was frying eggs in front of me, looking up from time to time with a smile. My phone buzzed in my hand from the texts that came pouring in.

“Sounds like you’ve been missed,” he said with a laugh, raising an eyebrow at me. He still had no clue about my parents, the trailer we lived in, or my living situation. I blushed and put my phone on silent. All the texts were from my parents of course, mostly Mom.

Where are you Gemma?

You better come home right away!

When will you be home?

Why did you hang up on me?

What will you do about your job?

“Everything all right?” Vincent asked, popping bread into a fancy-looking toaster. I only nodded my head as I gripped my phone tightly in my hand. This was not the time to discuss my family with him. Not over breakfast. Not after the morning we had just had. When would be a good time to discuss it anyway? I gulped and started typing a text.

Not coming home today. I don’t want to think about my damn job. Big Mike is an asshole, I wrote it and sent it off. I switched off my phone again for good measure and looked up at Vincent with a beaming smile.

“All good?” he asked, walking up to me with two plates of fried eggs, buttered toast and bacon on the side.

“Yeah, just friends wondering what my plans are for the day,” I said, waving a hand at him.

“What are your plans for the day?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he sat down across from me.

I pulled the plate closer to myself and picked up one of the greasy bacon strips with my fingers.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I said, taking a bite.

“Well, my plan is to spend the day with you. If you’re willing to do that, of course,” he said, taking a big bite of his toast. We were smiling at each other coyly. We both knew what my answer to that was going to be. I wasn’t prepared to leave just yet.

“How long are you here for?” I asked him, without answering his question.

Vincent sighed and rubbed a hand on his knee. “A few more days. Until the end of the week, but let’s not talk about that right now,” he said, the smile disappearing from his face. I wasn’t smiling either. The thought of him leaving, of all this coming to an end, sent a knife through my heart. I could feel it there, twisting in my chest.

“Tell me about your life here,” he added quickly, and I refused to meet his eyes.

“There’s nothing much to tell. I go to work, or I used to go to work. I attend classes in the evening. I study and go to bed. Same story next day,” I said, cutting a piece of the egg. The yolk was runny and spilled out all over the spotless white plate. At home, I would have swept it up with the toast, but in front of Vincent I wasn’t so sure. I was still self-conscious of my mannerisms. What was the right thing to do?

“Sounds simple enough,” he said. Those deep dimples on his cheeks looked delicious enough to eat.

“What about your life in LA? What is that like?” I asked, sitting back in my chair. Vincent was smooth and sophisticated with his food, carefully and slowly chewing it. There was no spillage and no mess on his plate.

“Busy. Pressurized. I’ve been working non-stop for two years to get the cure out into the market,” he replied and our eyes met. “I was surprised that you had even heard of me,” he added with a smile.

I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head at him.

“Did you think we are that cut-off here?” I asked and he laughed.

“No, of course not, I just mean that my line of work is boring,” he said. Although I was sure that some others who read those gossip magazines often would know him, his personal life wasn’t boring in the least, but I kept that to myself. There was no reason to bring that up again.

Vincent got up to pour us two glasses of orange juice.

“Don’t you have to meet with your employees or something? I thought this was more of a business trip,” I asked, following his every movement with my eyes. It was still hard to believe that I was in this place, sharing breakfast with Vincent Stoltz. There were so many questions I had for him, so much praise to give him… I had admired his work for several years. But with him in the room, all I could think about was how hot he looked and how he wrecked my body and mind.

“I did, but I’ve cancelled the meetings. They can keep themselves entertained. I have better things to do today than give tiresome presentations,” he said with a laugh. “I also had your car fixed, so we can pick it up whenever you want.”

I pushed my plate away and narrowed my eyes on the handsome man in front of me.

“Not hungry anymore?” he asked, still chewing on his food. The runny yolks and bits of bacon remained on my plate. It wasn’t that I wasn’t hungry, and I was just too self-conscious of how I was eating the food. I decided not to argue with him about fixing my car.

“No, but the food was delicious, don’t get me wrong,” I said and sipped on the orange juice instead.

“You’re right,” he said, wiping the sides of his mouth with a white napkin. “I’m not hungry either. Let’s find something else to do.”