“Then double whatever that figure is she gave you for the trip,” I said. “I’ll go with her to scout out the venues. My wifey and I can get some quality time in together and pose for a few pictures. Maybe some poolside shots. A staged, but believable clandestine shot of me rubbing oil on her bare back from our beachside balcony? Oh, wait. What about a leaked sex tape?”
Damon and I both glared at Chris, who threw his hands up.
“Hey, I’m just putting ideas out there.”
“Maybe he has a point,” Damon said with a sigh. “And not about the specifics, but the idea of you two making some public shows of affection.”
“No way,” Belle said. “We’re not posing for an oil rub down-”
“No. I mean about him coming with you to Europe. It could be good for optics.”
“I guess it would be helpful to have him nearby to approve a venue. But Chris is a distraction I don’t really need while I’m trying to work.”
“Well,” I said. “Sounds like someone will need to put their professional pants on and show a little self-control, won’t they?”
Belle shook her head at me in disgust. “Speaking of being professional, aren’t you supposed to be some kind of NFL player? Aren’t you in the middle of a football season? Are you really able to just pick up mid-week and go to Europe?”
I stood up so she could see the brace around my thigh and knee. “Pulled a hamstring.”
“So? Aren’t you guys supposed to play even if your eyeballs are dangling out of their sockets or something?”
I cringed. “I can run about as fast as a grandmother on her way to a sale on flowers right now.”
“What does that even mean?”
“The enthusiasm is there, but my body can’t quite match it.”
Damon interjected. “He has a specialist in London we use for physical therapy. The team is letting him have a few days to rehab overseas, but they’re hoping he’ll be ready by Sunday.”
“So am I going to have to push him around Europe in a wheelchair?”
“Is that on the table?” I asked. “Because I’m in.”
“Look,” Damon said, ignoring both of us. “Chris will come along but it’s not because you actually need his approval for anything. We just need to make sure you two are seen together. Ideally making googly eyes and holding hands.”
“If the wedding venue and details didn’t matter, you could’ve hired anyone to do this. But people will spot it from a mile away if Chris had no input in the ceremony. So regardless of what you think, I still want to get the wedding right, too.”
I nodded. “See? This is why we pay her the big bucks.”
“No,” Damon said. “I pay her the big bucks because your dumbass made sure she was the only person we could possibly use for this job.”
I grinned. “Well, yeah. There’s also that. So, Belle, are you a window seat or an aisle seat kind of girl? Or should I just figure out how spacious the bathrooms are?”
Damon covered his face with his hands.
23
Belle
I watched Damon plunge his face into his hands as Chris wore his trademark crooked smile. I was starting to think Chris fed off dirty looks and exasperated sighs, so I gave him neither. I scooped up my things, nodded curtly, then headed for the door.
I couldn’t believe I was going to Europe alone with Chris. I will not sleep with him on this trip. I will not sleep with him on this trip.
I got outside the office and pressed my back to the door, trying to gather some mental fortitude before I continued.
Then I heard Chris’ muffled voice through the door.
“I bet she thinks she’s not going to end up sleeping with me on this trip.”
Damon groaned. “Is there even an ounce of professionalism in that thick head of yours?”
“Somewhere, maybe. But I mean, come on. Have you seen her? You’d be preoccupied with her too if she was your wifey.”
“First of all, I have a ‘wifey.’ Secondly, no, I wouldn’t. I know how to control my cock, unlike you.”
“Oh, I can control it. You could even say I’m a sword master. It’s probably why Belle can’t stop looking at me like she wants more even when I’m constantly irritating her.”
I swung the door open. “I can hear you, asshole.”
“Oh,” Chris said. He threaded his hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair. “I guess this is a good time to tell you Damon and I have been doing a little sibling therapy. I roleplay a douchebag and he plays a guy with a streetlight up his ass. Afterwards, we trade notes.”
“Take this note.” I stuck my finger in his direction. “If your ‘sword’ comes near me during this trip, you’ll realize you’re not the only one who knows a little swordplay.”
Chris and Damon both narrowed their eyes, and I realized how much I’d butchered my ‘bust in, say something badass and intimidating, then leave’ speech.
Chris put a finger on his chin, smirking. “I can’t tell if you’re promising to ride me, reveal that you’ve been hiding a cock of your own somewhere, or threatening to cut off my cock with a literal sword.”
“I’m warning you,” I said quietly. “And I think if I had one of those, you would’ve found it by now.”
Damon put a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. In fact, I thought he might actually be laughing, which was a rare sight from the man.
I thought about trying to explain away my embarrassment but realized everything that came out of my mouth was only making it worse. I made one last threatening finger-jab in Chris’ direction and stormed out of the conference room.
Damon contacted me later that night with a complete publicity plan for our trip. The short version was that Chris and I needed to make sure we were seen together and “disgustingly in love” at various points during the trip.
Spectacular.
The morning of our flight, I was woken by frantic knocking on my door. I rolled out of bed with last-night’s makeup still half-applied and my hair a mess. Something told me I’d find Chris looking pristine on the other side of the door. It made me want to run to the mirror and fix myself up, but I knew if he kept knocking like that, he’d wake up half the building.
“I’m coming!” I shouted as I skidded and slipped my way through the messy apartment.
When I opened the door, it was Lance waiting, not Chris. He had flowers in his hand. “I came to apologize.”
“At five in the morning?”
“Can I just come in so we can talk?”
I hesitated. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve said no. I probably would’ve slammed the door. But there was something about still being able to remember him laughing so hard apple juice shot out of his nose at the elementary school lunch table. Or remembering all the times he’d come to my rescue when I had my heart broken by boys or my feelings hurt by the mean girls at school.
There was just too much history to pretend I could make a clean cut and throw him out of my life. Did it mean I was going to sleep with him? Absolutely not. But I at least owed him as much as letting him try to patch things up.