“I'm glad you decided to accept my offer.” Carol Bryson beams at me.
It feels odd not being at The Billionaires Club on a Monday. Surreal, even. When I awoke this morning, habit made me start getting ready for work. Then I remembered that I quit my job when I told Croix about Hudson Paragon Solutions. I had barely been awake for an hour before I got the phone call from Carol asking me to come into the office and fill out my new hire paperwork.
“Thank you for giving me this opportunity,” I say softly before typing in the log-in credentials she gave me.
Thankfully, all of my new hire paperwork can be filled out via computer.
“I think you'll be a great fit for our company.” Carol pats me on the back. “This will probably take you a while, so I'll leave you to it. You know where my office is if you need me.”
I turn and watch her walk out of the small office that she put me in to fill out my paperwork. Her office is all the way down the hall, a corner office with a splendid view of Palm Beach. She gave me the grand tour of the place when I first arrived before sitting me down to go over my job duties in length.
To be honest, the conversation stressed me out a little. This is going to be far more work than what I did at Club Diamond and The Billionaires Club. I can only imagine that's why they pay more. Hopefully, I'll be able to handle the pressure.
Have more confidence in yourself. This is what you went to school for. This is what you want to do for the rest of your life, help a big company thrive. It's your passion.
The gentle reminder helps to prod me to begin the online paperwork. It's an arduous task, entering my name and social security number and the date repeatedly. The entire process takes a little under an hour. When I'm done, I leave the computer to go find Carol.
“It's a lot, isn't it?” she says with a smile.
“Oh yeah. But I suppose that's to be expected.”
“I've set your start date for next Monday. I hope that works for you.” She stands to lead me out of the building.
“Monday will be fine,” I reply, my heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves.
“I'm sure you'll be a great addition to the team. Welcome aboard.”
***
“It sounds like everything is finally coming together for you.” Cindy stands in the kitchen carefully pulling a pan of piping hot muffins out of the oven.
Apparently, she's back on her low-carb diet, because these were made with golden flax seed meal, sugar-free caramel syrup, and a bunch of other things you wouldn't normally associate with sweets. They smell delicious, though.
“I certainly hope so.” I sigh. “I can't complain much.”
“People can always complain,” she comments absentmindedly.
“I now have the job of my dreams. Croix and I didn't break up.” I glance down at my phone. “I suppose if there's one thing to complain about, it's that Roscoe showed up again. Thank God I was gone this time.”
“He wanted to wait for you.” She glances at me over her shoulder. “I had half a mind to let him.”
I scowl at her. “Why would you do something like that?”
“You know why.” She picks up one of the muffins with a pair of oven mitts and brings it over to me. It looks tasty, a deep brown color with slivered almonds on top.
“Chocolate?” I ask, my mouth salivating.
“Chocolate.” She grins. “I hope they're good.”
“There's only one way to find out.” I go to peel off the wrapper, but it's too hot.
“Careful. They haven't been out of the oven for five minutes.” The corners of her lips dip.
“I should have known better.” I shake the burn out of my fingers.
She returns to the kitchen to put a muffin on a plate for herself before taking off her oven mitts and coming back to sit across from me. “The only thing that made me turn your brother away was not knowing how long it would be before you returned.”
“I'm not ready to deal with him right now.”
“Well, you're going to have to deal with him. I gave him your phone number.”
“You did what?” My mouth falls open.
“It's better than having him show up here over and over again.” She gestures in annoyance.
I want to be mad at her but I can't. She's always so sweet to me. Well, most of the time she's sweet to me. The rest of the time, she's dismissive, but that's still better than her being cruel.
I know it must be strange for her to have all of these men dropping by her house unannounced all of a sudden.
“I'm sorry.” I sulk. “I was hoping he'd go away on his own.”
“Family is obviously important to him. It should be important to you too.” She delicately unwraps her muffin. Seeing that they're cool enough, I do the same.
“It was important to me once.” It was important to me back when I felt like I had a family. When my mother and father were just a short drive away. When my brother and I used to sneak off to the movies together when he could manage to find time away from his job and family. Those seem like the good ole days now.
“Family is always important.” She breaks off a piece of muffin and pops it into her mouth.
“Yeah,” I reply inattentively, not wanting to argue with her anymore.
Instead, I turn my attention to my own muffin, picking it up and taking a bite. I expect my mouth to fill with the strong taste of chocolate and artificial sweeter. Instead, it's flooded with bland, undercooked dough that tastes more like cardboard than food. I have to resist the urge to spit it out. When I look up and see Cindy grimacing, I know I'm not alone in my assessment of her creation.
“Oh God, that's horrible,” she says once she's finished swallowing. “Do you want some water?” Cindy stands to go to the kitchen.
“Yes, please.” I nod fervently, just wanting to get the taste out of my mouth.
“I'm so sorry.” She returns to me with a glass of water.
I take it from her and try to gulp away the horrible aftertaste. I drain the entire glass before I'm able to accomplish that goal.
“Muffin fail.” I push the remainder of my muffin away.
“Muffin fail,” she agrees, picking up both of our muffins to dump them in the trash.
***
It's not until Friday that Croix invites me over to spend the night with him. I'm acutely aware that it's the first time I've been to his beach house since meeting his daughter. As he opens the door to me, I can picture her standing in his place. I could tell she was Croix's just by looking at her, but she definitely has an equal mix of her mother in her. Both parents have dark hair and brown eyes, but she inherited her mother's bronze skin tone.
We stare at each other for several seconds before he finally invites me in. I have the box with the watch that I bought for his birthday present clutched in my hand. I thought it would be a good ice breaker, anticipating that things might still be a little strained between us. It was a smart move.
When we pass the kitchen, pain snakes through my heart. It's subtle, but it's definitely there. The image of Croix and Kenzi embracing still seems more than platonic to me. I do my best to brush the thought off, knowing that it will ruin the afternoon if I keep obsessing over it.
“Here.” I turn to him once we reach the living room, offering him the box. “I got this for you for your birthday but never got to give it to you.”
He takes it from me, but his eyes never leave mine. “I was kind of hoping you'd show up in that trench coat.”
“Maybe some other time.” I smirk before my gaze drifts down to the box. “To be honest, I had no idea what to get you. I hope you like it.”
I'm amused by how he delicately peels the wrapping paper away. There's a hollowness in the pit of my stomach when he opens the box. He smiles as he looks down at the watch, admiring its face for a moment before working to get it out of the box.
“It's nice,” he says softly.
“Not very thoughtful, I know.” I shift my weight. “It was either this or a gift card to that coffee place down the street.”
He lets out a short laugh, and the dullness in his eyes makes me think he might have preferred the gift card. “You know me well.”
Do I? I wonder. It certainly hasn't seemed like it lately.
We sit side by side on the sofa as he unclasps the watch to place it around his wrist. It's the first time I've noticed he's not wearing one. Maybe he doesn't wear watches. Most people don't now that everyone has a Smartphone. Still, it's a good accessory.
“Do you really like it?” I ask timidly, watching his expression.
“I love it because you gave it to me. Thank you.” He sets the empty box and wrapping paper on the coffee table and gives me a hug. I inhale the scent of his cologne and instantly feel soothed.
When he pulls away, his eyes look dark. It's obvious he's still thinking about what might have been under that trench coat.
Croix leans in to kiss me, and I allow his lips to brush against mine, keeping things chaste. When he slides his hand behind my head to curl his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck and deepen the kiss, I deflect by turning my head to the side.
He lets out an audible sigh, resting his cheek against mine and holding onto me tightly. “Please tell me I'm not still losing you.”
His words cause a jump in my heart. They're so earnest and desperate that I can't help but feel something from them.
“You're not losing me,” I whisper before pulling back to look at his face. “I just need a bit more time to heal.”
“You can heal in my bed.” He strums the string of the white tank top I'm wearing.
“That's not how this works.” I grin at his insistence. I had completely expected him to tell me to take all the time I need. That would have been the right answer. His hunger for me is both endearing and arousing, though.
“Haven't you ever heard of sexual healing?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“You're such a dork.” I burst out laughing, slapping at his chest playfully.
He grabs my wrists, his expression suddenly taking a serious turn. The lust is still there, and it seems to be transferring to me with his touch. The intensity of his gaze is quickly breaking me down.
“I need this, Raven. I need to know that you still want me—that I haven't fucked things up so badly that they're beyond repair.”
My breathing changes as we stare into each other's eyes. Desires swirl beneath the surface—yearnings begging to be satiated. Maybe he's right. Perhaps time isn't what we need to heal. Maybe it's this. Just this.