I moved my gaze back to his. "It's because that's who you are." He’d said it himself. Said it as plainly as he could.
He nodded, but doubled down by answering as well. "Yes, Sabrina."
"But you're asking who I need you to be…” I let out the air in my lungs, slowly. “So am I to assume that you're willing to give up some of who you are in order to be with me?"
He nodded again. "Or all of who I am. It's up to you to decide how much."
My stomach twisted and braided with both the intoxication of such crazy power and a little bit of disgust. Or a lot of disgust. And also something else—something sentimental and tender, some sort of emotion that would probably fit a lot better inside Audrey than in me.
But here it was inside of me all the same, and I had to figure out what to do with it and how to make decisions with it. I had to figure out how to answer the question that Donovan was waiting for me to answer now:
"So, tell me, Sabrina—who do you want me to be?"
Chapter 11
I needed a moment to process.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since I'd learned the extent to which Donovan had infiltrated my life in the last ten years. I still hadn't worked through all of the emotions I had about that. I hadn’t been away from him long enough, hadn’t had enough time to truly think and let it all sink in.
And here he was asking me to make major decisions based on those emotions?
It felt impossible.
Fortunately the waiter came then and left the tab at our table. Donovan swiped it before I had a chance to even offer.
"I don't expect you to pay for my every meal," I said. A prickly subject perhaps, but much safer than the one we were on before.
"I do.” He pulled his gold card from his wallet. "I just told you I wanted a relationship. This is part of a relationship."
"Maybe in the 1950s. I'm a modern woman. You should let me take a turn now and then."
"Is that part of your terms, then?" He had me there. This subject was more related to the one before than I’d realized. He'd been my benefactor for years, hadn't he? Was that Donovan's idea of a relationship? Taking care of someone? Paying the bills? Coming to the rescue? Had he been taking care of me for too long? Was the ability to pay my own way part of my terms?
This was even more complicated to answer than it sounded. And it had already sounded complicated.
"You can pay for my lunch." I was chickenshit. It was easier than continuing the debate when I wasn’t prepared to argue.
Donovan nodded with a knowing smile and caught the eye of the waiter as he passed by again. He handed him his card and I watched as the server disappeared, wishing I could look at the man across from me instead. Wishing I knew what to say.
"I can ask for his number when he comes back if you want me to," Donovan teased.
I glared in his direction. "I'm not interested in our waiter."
"He sure seems to have your attention."
I sighed. "It's not him who has my attention. It's you. Always you. I don't know how to answer you. I’m a bit overwhelmed here."
His forehead wrinkled as he considered. "Tell me what you need."
He sounded so sincere, and why shouldn't he? He was good at that. Good at giving me what I needed. I just never realized how good he was at it. I wondered if it was as hard for him to share it with me now as it was for me to understand the fullness of it.
"I need some time to think." I needed time to put things into boxes, sort out the good from the bad. Divide the right from the wrong.
Or maybe it was all wrong.
He paused, and in that pause I could see his doubt. I could feel his concern. I wanted to reassure him, but before I could, he gave me my release. "Take all the time you need."
An hour later, I sat at my desk in front of ad sketches for a new electronics line, barely seeing them. I was supposed to be creating a timeline for product release, but instead I was reviewing my mental notebook of all the instances Donovan had interfered in my life. I was still collecting inventory and hadn't gotten to the point of breaking down which were good and bad when I realized my stupid mistake—I’d given him the wrong answer.
I didn’t need time to think. I should have been able to answer instantly. I could kick myself over it. Immediately, I called down to his office but was told he was in meetings all afternoon. My revelation would have to wait.
So as soon as Ellen was gone for the day and the halls began to darken, when all but the most committed employees made their way home for the evening, I locked up my office and headed down to his.
His secretary Simone was at her desk, her purse on her shoulder, obviously about to leave.
"He's on the phone," she said, a fact that was evident since the walls to his office were currently clear and there he was behind his desk, the receiver cradled under his neck. "But you can go right in."
Uh…odd.
First, it was unusual for him to keep his glass clear. Was that because, as I'd always suspected, he’d kept them opaque to hide from me? Did his transparent walls now suggest a greater transparency than just the literal one in front of me?
Also strange was the permission to walk right in. The last time I’d tried to see Donovan in the office, Simone had, at Donovan's behest, requested I make an appointment.
Things really were changing between us.
Emotion lifted in my chest, a contradiction to the grimace on Simone's face. Apparently she wasn't as happy with the change in events as I was.
Yeah, I got it, sister. If I were his secretary, I'd have a crush on him too.
Ignoring her pout, I thanked her and moseyed over to the doorway as the click-clack of her heels sounded her exit down the hall behind me. I leaned against the frame, much the way he’d leaned against my doorframe earlier in the day. Simone may have instructed me to go on in, but I preferred to have an invitation from the man himself.
He looked up at me immediately, a sly smile forming on his lips as he continued his phone conversation.
Warmth spread within me. It was a nice thing to feel wanted.
"I'm glad I could help you out," he said into the phone. "Or not help you out, as the case may be. I'll pull my man off the case immediately."
He was quiet for a moment, obviously listening, but all the while he ate me up with his gaze. Slowly, he traced up my Dolce & Gabbana knee-high boots, higher along my tight-fitting pencil skirt. Then he scaled the curve of my abdomen and the swell of my breasts to follow the arch of my neck, the line of my lips.
By the time he reached my eyes, my skin was hot and my panties were slick. He shifted in his seat and I wondered if he was turned on.
"I hate to interrupt you Cade, but an urgent matter has just made itself known." He paused, and I bit back a giggle. "No, no. Nothing to worry about. I can handle her. Er, it. I'll see you later this week."
I crossed my arms casually across my chest. "Cade Warren?" It wasn’t my fault that I’d been eavesdropping. He’d been the one to leave the door open. “Was that the Cade you were talking to?”
Cade was the fifth founder of Reach. He ran the Tokyo office and rarely made it to the United States. As such, I hadn’t met him yet.