Bastian

As I watch Julia leave my office, I think two things: one, I have to give her credit for her spunk; and two, I fucked that up so badly that I’m surprised the building’s still standing.

I glance over at my personal assistant, Holly. She and Noah, our receptionist, are still gaping. At my scrutiny, Noah clears his throat and averts his gaze. Holly says, “I’ll call Mr. Masters later today to confirm that appointment, sir.”

She normally calls me Bastian, not sir, and the reason she’s doing it now fills me with guilt. “Thank you.” I’m about to apologize for being so curt with her earlier when she looks over my shoulder and frowns. I turn and see my brother, Lucian, approaching. He points in the direction of my office and I nod. When I turn back, I see Holly walking in the other direction.

I’ll just have to apologize to her later. It’s the least I can do for being such an ass.

I’m not the one about to lose an important client because I’m a judgmental dickwad. Did Julia really say that to me? No one ever talks to me like that. But now a woman who hands out chicken wing samples at the local grocery store basically told me to go fuck myself.

I laugh softly, then notice Noah staring at me again.

“I’ll be in my office with Lucian, Noah.”

“Yes, sir.”

I shut the door after I enter my office. Lucian already has his feet up on my desk, which I silently move off the expensive mahogany.

I slump down into my chair across from him and sigh.

Holly’s not the only one I need to apologize to. As soon as I can, I need to track Julia down. But when I do, will I be able to apologize and refrain from asking her out, which I’d been wanting to do for weeks now?

I’ve been wanting to do far more than ask her out. I want to feel her move against me. I want to hear her gasp and cry out my name with pleasure. I want plunge into her moist depths over and over again, until I know her body inside and out as well as I know my own. And I want to spend hours, days, and months, every moment that we’re not making love, uncovering the nuances of her sweet and fiery personality.

Only I can’t do any of that. Not anymore.

Well, I can, but I shouldn’t.

I’ve been off, feeling tired lately, and I’d begun to fear it, but collapsing at Cooper’s and the subsequent tests have confirmed that my lupus is back. Not that it ever went away, but I’d been in remission for over a year now. I’d stupidly thought I’d put it behind me, and to add insult to injury, I ended up passing out in a public place, in front of Julia. Which is why I’d been so fucking embarrassed when I’d seen her just now and, already agitated because of my conflict with Ryland, had acted like the asshole she’d called me.

What a mess. I sigh again.

“So are you going to tell me what that was all about, or are you just going to sit there and sigh?” I have to give Lucian credit—he never minces words. He stares at me, waiting for me to reply.

I laugh, a little bitterly. “Do you really want to know?”

“Stupid question, since I already asked. Give me the deets. The four-one-one. Whatever the young people call it these days.”

“Lucian, you’re only twenty-eight, and two years younger than me at that.”

He waves a hand. “I feel old in my soul. And you’re deflecting. Who was the girl, and what did she want?”

I can feel my wallet in my jacket pocket, heavy and almost accusatory. Julia had taken the trouble to return it, when she could’ve kept the cash and tossed the rest. I imagine she could use the extra money. My heart warms a little.

“She actually came here to return my wallet. I told you it disappeared after what happened at Cooper’s? Well, apparently she had it the entire time.”

Lucian raises an eyebrow. “Took her long enough to return it, but I guess she gets points for altruism all the same.”

I don’t reply. All I can think about is how Julia looked when she put me in my place: gorgeous. She should get angry more often. Her face flushed, her eyes flashing, and her magnificent rack heaving? God, she’d been glorious, and I can feel my body stirring at the thought of her. Which really isn’t anything new. Since spotting her in Cooper’s that very first day, I’ve made fantasizing about her an Olympic sport.

She’s pretty, and bright, and funny, and now I know she has a backbone, too. My last few girlfriends always complained that they couldn’t get me to do anything they wanted because I’m so stubborn. Clearly, Julia would have no problem telling me to go to hell.

“Now you’re smiling,” Lucian says. “Are you daydreaming? Shit, you are.”

I shuffle through some random papers on my desk, embarrassed. “What do you think our options are with Ryland?”

Now it’s Lucian’s turn to sigh. “Fuck me if I know. We gave him all the stats, all of the information about why this investment could turn sour quickly, but he didn’t want to hear it. I think with each page of stats we showed him, he shut down even more. It doesn’t bode well for him recommending us to his peers.”

I tap a pen against my desk. RichCo is doing just fine, yet positive word-of-mouth is always a priority. Beyond that, I want to do right by my clients.

Julia said that I needed to think about how Ryland looked at things, and that taking risks seemed to be a life goal of his (something he’d failed to mention when he hired us). I wouldn’t call myself an overly cautious person, but I also don’t rush headlong into things when I know very well they could go badly. So Ryland’s friend is developing a mobile app? Everyone and their dog has a mobile app, and this one doesn’t seem any different from all the others floating in the App Store.

Lucian and I have told Ryland this, but he wants to proceed anyway. Obviously it’s his money and he can do what he wants, yet he’s taking our advice as a sign of advisor/client incompatibility. I tap the pen harder.

“You know,” I begin, thinking. “I wonder if we really looked at everything. Maybe there’s some component here that would show it’s not a complete wash. Maybe this business has actual potential. Obviously, Ryland thinks so.”

Lucian stares at me, and then he bursts out laughing. “What are you talking about? Didn’t you just explain to me how pointless this mobile app was and how we had to keep Ryland from throwing money at it no matter what?”

I grit my teeth. “Yes, but sometimes you have to change tactics. Sometimes there’s an angle you didn’t look at. I’m thinking there’s something we haven’t considered. Have you even listened to his music?”

“No, I haven’t. But as you pointed out, I’m twenty-eight; I think Ryland’s music is better suited for college kids. And I hardly have time to surf for the latest trends in music.” Sitting back in his chair and putting his feet back up on my desk, Lucian strokes his chin. “Does this have anything to do with that girl? What was her name?”

I still, my tapping going silent. “Her name’s Julia. What about her?”

“I didn’t hear everything she said, but what did she say to you? I’ve never seen you do a one-eighty on a deal so quickly, if ever. She must’ve made an impression on you.”

I hesitate. Do I tell Lucian how Julia reamed me? I decide not to tell him everything, but I also know that if I lie outright, he’ll be like a shark out for blood. “She and Ryland apparently got to talking and she felt compelled to offer her advice.” I can’t help the snort that comes from me: yes, I admire her spunk, but at the same time, she’s hardly got any credentials. At least, none I’m aware of. I know it sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud. “She told me that Ryland has lived his life taking risks, and I should take that into account.”

“Huh,” Lucian says. “Huh.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“I’m thinking.”

I start tapping my pen again.

After a few more moments, Lucian stands. He’s a bit like a cat, stretching in a patch of sunlight coming through the office window. “I’m not sure if we should listen to some random woman,” he says finally, “but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to consider what she said, since Ryland isn’t happy with what we did give him.”

He turns then, and suddenly his full focus is on me. “My real question is: are you going to ask her out or not?”

I clench the pen in my fist. That is the real question, isn’t it? Before collapsing at Cooper’s like some Victorian woman with a too-tight corset, I’d planned on asking Julia out after she returned with more chicken wings. Now, though? How can I, when I can already tell I’d want more than a fling with her. In truth, I’m not the fling type. Not anymore. I’ve grown up from the bad-boy manwhore I used to be, and I like the man I’ve become. I like having a girlfriend. I like pursuing something important with the knowledge that it just might end up being the most important thing in my life. I’ve never gotten to that point with a woman, but with Julia…I’ve dated doctors, models, CEOs, but there’s something about this grocery store sample girl that has me intrigued, not to mention half hard just thinking about her, most especially her eyes and breasts and smile.

Especially her breasts.

But Julia’s young, and doesn’t deserve to get involved with, and maybe start to care about, a guy who’s fighting a major illness.

I clear my throat a little. “At the moment, no. I’m not going to.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because it’s not exactly an opportune time, if you hadn’t noticed.”

He frowns. “Bastian—”

“I need to get back to work and so do you,” I clip out and start to fuss with some papers on my desk.

I feel my brother’s eyes on me for several seconds before he reluctantly stands. “If she’s scared by a little illness, she’s not worth your time, anyway. But how will you know if you don’t ask her in the first place?” He says this quietly and I don’t look up or respond. Then he’s gone.

I push my fingers through my hair and lean back in my chair. When I do, I feel the wallet in my jacket, and I reach inside, pull it out, and open it up. I don’t believe Julia would have taken anything, but I rifle through the bills anyway. I realize there’s an extra one; there are now two $50 bills.

Everything else is there, including the condoms I always keep handy. Seeing them, I imagine myself between Julia’s thighs. How I’d give anything to sink deep inside her. See those breasts for myself, taste her, hear her moan. Is she a screamer, I wonder, or a moaner? Maybe she doesn’t make much noise during sex at all? I have to shift in my chair because I’m getting hard (again) just imagining the scenario.

I finish up the work I need to do, and then track down Holly to apologize. She’s nicer than I deserve, and she forgives me without issue. I then ask her to look up dates for Ryland Masters’s concerts, and to purchase two tickets for the soonest one. “I want VIP access,” I tell her. She raises her eyebrows at this, but she’s too professional to comment.

I guess I’m going to ask Julia out after all.