She considers it for a split second, then shakes her head.
I swear my heart cracks in two the second I see her do it.
Her eyes roam up to mine, and I can tell she’s dead serious. “No.”
What’s left of my heart squeezes inside my chest like a damn vise, and all the air leaves my lungs. It’s totally unexpected. I did the nice guy shit just right, the way they do in the movies. I went through every detail, the cupcakes, the tickets, thought it all out.
I’ve never felt anything like this. I’ve never been rejected.
Did that really just happen? I thought for sure even if I fucked everything up, I still had about a ninety percent chance at success. My blood starts to boil, and it’s not pure rage, it’s a simmering under the surface of the skin. It’s a culmination of the situation, the timing, the sequence of events and circumstances leading up to this.
“No?” It’s the only word that escapes my lips.
“I’m sorry. It’s just not a good time.”
My mouth takes over before my brain can catch up. “You kidding me right now? Do you know what I had to do to get those tickets because I thought you wanted them? No?” I stare at her, wide-eyed, bewildered.
“Have you never been told ‘no’ before? I need to get back to work, Rick. Here.” She tries to hand me the cupcakes back, a rejection of everything, not just the proposal. It’s clear she wants absolutely nothing to do with me.
I shake my head. “Keep them.” The simmering under my skin heats up to an alarming degree, and I don’t think I can control it. I just need to keep my shit together. But to hell with playing nice. If she doesn’t want to do this the normal way, I’ll fucking show her how I get shit done.
“Why? So you can continue to leverage a date that’s not going to happen?”
My jaw clenches and I stare right at her. “Keep the cupcakes,” I say through my teeth. I lean down, so that my mouth is right next to her ear. “And the date will happen.” I damn near growl the last part.
She gulps the second I say it, and her heartbeat redlines in the side of her neck. Good, I can still make her nervous if I need to.
She takes a few deep breaths, and I can’t tell if she’s irate or turned on. Maybe a little of both. “I’m sorry, Rick, but I need to get back to work. And it’s not going to happen.”
Just get the fuck out of here, man. Before you fuck everything up permanently.
I lean back and glare right at her for a few seconds, letting the silence stretch between us. Finally, I say, “We’ll see.” I walk off before she says anything else.
Mary Patrick
What the heck did he mean by that?
“We’ll see.”
He walks off and I sit there, staring at his back as he turns the corner. I bury my face in my palms. Why can’t he just leave me alone? It would be one thing if I thought he was serious, but I know how the real Rick Lawrence is. Everyone knows how he is.
I won’t lie and say there’s not more to him than what he shows people, but still. He’s pretending to be someone else when he’s around me. If he would just be himself, then maybe I could trust the things he says.
It’s all theater with him. Some big production, and part of me wonders if it’s just some big inside joke at the firm. Some way to humiliate me if I give in.
Ugh! I lean back and my head bumps against the back of my chair.
All I want to do is come to work, do my job, and go home. I don’t want some macho, cute, alpha whatever obsessing over me.
Liar.
Okay, maybe what happened the other night made me have some feelings I’ve never experienced before. I’ve never had anyone want to protect me the way he did, and it was nice. Really nice. Maybe it did send the best kind of chill through my body, and maybe it sent tingling sensations down my arms and legs, but I just don’t know if any of it is real.
Why me? I’m just normal, plain Mary. I’m not super gorgeous in short skirts like a lot of the other associates and interns.
I shake my head and try to focus on my work. Dexter asked me to look over a few case files for some potential finance clients. The words all run together on the page, and all I can think about is that stupid smirk on Rick’s face.
“We’ll see.”
The words play through my head over and over. Not just the words either, the way he stared when he said them, the tone of his voice, every bit of body language.
There was something about the way he said it. It wasn’t up for discussion. A date with him was going to happen whether I wanted it or not. A real date. He made that part perfectly clear.
And why on earth does it send butterflies dancing through my stomach thinking about going on an actual date with him? I’ve never been so nervous and excited in my entire life, but it just doesn’t make any sense, and I force myself not to get my hopes up.
“Mary!” My phone buzzes extra loud, and it’s Decker’s voice.
It startles me so much I jolt upright in my chair and my heart leaps up into my throat.
I manage to shake my head, take a deep breath, and compose myself before picking up the phone to take it off speaker.
“Yes, sir.”
“Need you in my office.” He hangs up before I can respond.
“Glad to, thanks for asking so nicely,” I say to no one in particular.
What could this be about? With any of the other partners, I’d think I was in trouble, but Decker is just always going a million miles-an-hour, so it might just be business as usual.
As I near his office, I actually breathe a sigh of relief, because I realize I just spent two minutes without thinking about Rick. That’s a win in my book.
There’s nobody at the desk in front of his office and the door is open. I see him leaned back in his chair. He notices me and waves me on in.
When I’m two steps into the room, he says, “Shut the door, please.”
Now, he’s saying ‘please’ and asking me to shut the door. This can only mean one thing; he wants me to possibly do something that skirts ethical boundaries.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. He hasn’t said anything yet.
I spin on a heel and close the door, then walk over and take a seat in front of him. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“I need you to comb through some files on Wells Covington. Make a few phone calls. It’s more investigative work than you’re used to, but it shouldn’t be anything too difficult.”
“Okay.”
He stares at me for a long second as if he can read my mind. If he could read it, he’d know I’m asking a million questions I’d never ask out loud. Why me? Investigation isn’t my strong suit. Abigail is far better than me, and a few others for that matter.
“It has a strong financial component. It’s why I’m giving it to you, but I have Abigail and Rick doing various things as well. You may need to coordinate with them.”
Great. That will just make Rick’s day, getting to work with me.
Just be professional, Mary. You were hired to do a job, and you’re going to do it as long as they don’t ask you to break any laws or compromise your morals.
“What is it that you need me to do?”
“You’re the best I have at tracking down ownership stakes in companies, following the shell corporation mazes and all that stuff.”