Whitney G Williams (Mid Life 1) Mid Life Love (ang)

Mid Life Love by Whitney Gracia Williams

Published by Whitney Gracia Williams, 2013.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author ’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2013 by Whitney Gracia Williams All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author. Cover photograph by Kelsey Christina Karstrand http://www.flickr.com/photos/34384935@N08/7097187441/in/photostream

Table of Contents Copyright Page Dedication: December 28, 2012 Chapter 1 Chapter 1.5 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 January 19, 2013 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 April 14, 2013 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 25.5 August 15, 2013 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Wasted Love Excerpt Acknowledgments:

More works by Whitney Gracia Williams:

Dedication: For those who believe in a second chance at love...

December 28, 2012 Dear Journal, I just realized that the key to advertising can be summed up in one word: Bullshit. That’s right, the key behind every single strategic slogan, even the greatest ones—Nike’s “Just Do It,” McDonald’s “I’m Lovin’ It,” and L’Oreal’s “Because You’re Worth It”—is pure bullshit. It’s all about making the customer think that those one hundred dollar tennis shoes work ten times better than the twenty dollar ones, even though they’re made of the exact same materials. It’s about making people believe that the Big Mac is the tastiest American sandwich—despite the fact that it’s over-processed, slightly dry, and full of pink slime. And last but not least, it’s about making each and every woman think that putting on L’Oreal’s latest nude lipstick and waterproof mascara will make her look like a million dollar celebrity. As a marketing director at Statham Industries, the number one software company in the country, my team and I have the “privilege” of coming up with new bullshit every day. Everything our company produces—cell phones, laptops, advanced tablets, et cetera—needs a savvy slogan and a matching promotional campaign months before it can be officially released. My job is to make sure that only the best campaign ideas get sent up to the approval committee, so in all actuality, nothing should be sent up. Ever. All my associates are recent college graduates and future copyeditors. (God bless their poor, unfortunate souls...) Some of them have potential, but the majority of them don’t. Whenever I reject their proposals with pages of red-inked notes, they whine and say, “Can’t you just give it a try? Can’t you send it up anyway? I got an ‘A’ in Business Marketing in college!”—as if that means a goddamn thing in the real world... These “grade-A” geniuses recently submitted the following taglines for Statham Industries’ sPhone, the iPhone’s biggest competitor: “sPhone. Because ‘s’ comes after ‘i’.” “The new sPhone. You so want it.” “sPhone. Because we can.” See? This is the type of fuckery I have to listen to (with a straight face) for hours on end. To make matters worse, the CEO of the company—who never makes an appearance, sends out incessant memos about policies that don’t make any sense. He recently implemented “hourly parking zones” in the parking lot to “better enable employees to get home quickly and safely,” but the real reason is to discourage overtime. (Cars left in the lot after five fifteen are immediately towed away) How ridiculous is that? He also paid some idiot two million dollars to speak to all company employees, an idiot who passed out bean bags and “energizing packets” to boost employee morale. We now have to attend weekly “Zen sessions,” monthly “coming together” focus groups, and spend thirty minutes a day writing in our “Zen journal,” i.e. you. Yes, believe it or not, you were almost tossed into the trash seconds ago, along with the rest of that useless “Zen” crap. However, something told me to reconsider that once I flipped through your empty pages...I guess I can use you as a therapeutic device instead. I hate you and I hate my pathetic excuse for a career, Claire. PS—I promise I don’t normally curse that much...on purpose...

Chapter 1 Claire My reflection was lying to me. She was showing me a happy woman in bright red lipstick and coral eye shadow, a woman who looked like she’d just won the lottery—not a brokenhearted woman who’d spent the past four years trying to put her life back together. You don’t look your age...You don’t look your age... I could practically pinpoint where my wrinkles would come in, where the creases near my eyes would multiply and spread out over time; where my lips would eventually thin out and dissolve into my mouth. So far I’d been lucky, but I was pretty sure the hundreds of anti-aging and wrinkleprevention creams I’d been using were the real reason why. I was turning forty in two weeks and I was suffering from all the symptoms of a mid-life crisis. I was questioning everything I’d ever done, comparing myself to all my friends, and wondering if I would ever find more fulfillments in life. I’d even started making a list of everything I needed to do once I hit the big 4-0: 1) Make a plan to quit my job in five years and pursue my dream career: Interior Design. 2) Pay off all my credit cards and start making larger mortgage payments on my house. 3) Stop reading so many romance books... 4) Save up enough to take my daughters on a week-long cruise in the summer. 5) Stop looking for potential wrinkle-lines and quit considering Botox. 6) Clean my house from top to bottom and KEEP it clean! 7) Stop blaming myself for my ex-husband’s affair... 8) Stop hating my ex-best friend for being part of the affair... 9) Treat myself to a new restaurant every month. 10) Learn to be happy alone. “Claire! Let’s go! We’re going to be late!” My friend Sandra called from the kitchen. “Coming! Coming!” I grabbed my jacket and headed downstairs. I took another glance at myself in the hallway mirror and cursed under my breath. I couldn’t believe I’d agreed to let her drag me out to another singles mixer. I never found anyone worth my time at those things, and the foul scent of desperation always hung in the air. “You look stunning!” Sandra tugged at my strapless black dress. “Can I please borrow your wardrobe?” “Only if I can borrow your life...” She rolled her eyes and ignored my pessimism as usual. “Tonight is the night you’ll meet the right guy! I can feel it!” She always says that... “Do we really need to go to another one of these things, Sands? I have some marketing research I could—” “On New Year’s Eve? Are you out of your mind? We’re going out!” “What’s the point? We’ve been to a ton of these things and it’s always the same...Can’t we just stay in, drink some wine, and go over our resolutions?”

“Claire...” She walked over to my front door and opened it. “We’re going out. Now. You don’t have any work to do and you know it. And it’s your turn to drive so let’s go!”

I stood in the winding buffet line and tossed a few veggie chips onto my plate. I looked up at the banner that hung over the bar and sighed. It read “New Year ’s Middle-Aged Singles’ Mixer: Let’s Get Jiggy!” Aside from the tacky banner, the interior of Pacific Bay Lounge left a lot to be desired: Surfboards served as table tops, old park benches were strewn about, and dingy blue and green streamers hung from the ceiling to simulate “waves.” Tonight, the lounge was way over-capacity—not a huge surprise since lonely people seemed to flock to these types of events. I was so used to them that I’d become quite the people reader: The guy standing by the window was at least sixty, the blond hair dye he’d been using to look twenty years younger was beginning to fade. The woman who was dancing against the speakers was clearly going through a divorce; she was still wearing her wedding ring and she tossed back a shot every time the DJ yelled “Cheers to all the single ladies!” I’d been there. Done that. On the window seats that lined the far wall, shy women were fidgeting with their hair and clothes like nervous high school students. Most of them were being forced to be here and had probably never had a fully-functioning relationship in their lives. I grabbed two beers from the end of the table and sat on an empty couch, observing one man’s poor attempt to get a shy woman to dance. “Is this seat taken?” A gorgeous man with grey eyes smiled at me, interrupting my fascinating people watch. “No. No, it’s not...” “Great.” He sat down and put his beer on the table. “I’m Lance. What’s your name?” “Claire. Claire Gracen.” “That’s a pretty name. What do you do for a living, Claire?” “I’m a marketing director for a software company. What do you do?” He tapped the label on his beer. “I own and manage a beer company, Leyland Beers. It’s in Nevada.” “Very impressive,” I said. “So, what do you—” “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ugh, here we go... “I’m thirty-nine, and yourself?” “Wow...” He looked me up and down. “I’m forty seven. Do you have any kids?” I felt myself smiling. “Two daughters. You?” “No, I don’t have any kids. Life’s way too short for that—no offense. Can I call you sometime?” Seriously? Is that all it takes these days? Age? Kids? Phone number? Is the art of conversation that DEAD? “Umm sure...” I forced a smile. “It’s—” “Wait. How old are your kids? Are they ‘with-the-babysitter-tonight-age’ or are they ‘secretlystealing-beer-out-of-your-cabinet-while-you’re-gone-age’? I have to be frank with you because I’m not looking for anything serious, and all you women with kids tend to be more—” “You know what?” I stood up. “I have to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back.” I pushed through the crowd and made my way to the outside deck, where lots of singles were watching the ripples of the Pacific Ocean swell up and down. I took a deep breath and inhaled the salty

wet air—the one thing I had yet to get used to since moving to the West Coast. I looked over my shoulder and saw Sandra talking to yet another guy, teasingly rubbing his shoulder and biting her lip. She caught me staring and motioned for me to come over. She was mouthing “He has a friend!” I turned around and rolled my eyes. “I take it you’re not having a good time?” A husky voice said from beside me. I didn’t even bother looking at him. I didn’t want to engage in any more pointless conversations or mundane introductions. I just wanted to go home. I sighed. “I’m thirty nine. My birthday’s in two weeks. I’ve been divorced for four years and I have two teenaged daughters.” I didn’t hear him say anything else. I turned to my left and saw that he was halfway across the deck. I took another swig of my beer and shook my head. I knew I wasn’t helping myself by pushing every potential suitor away, but I couldn’t help it. I still couldn’t believe that I was actually single. My life had been picture perfect years ago—fourteen year marriage to a man who I thought loved me, pretty Pittsburgh neighborhood in the suburbs, amazing career that was almost on the brink of being legendary—but then one day it was over. Just like that. The priceless picture couldn’t be put back together; it couldn’t be saved. It was tattered, forever ruined, and I was the one who emerged with the most cuts... I sent Sandra a text and made a break for the parking lot, turning down numerous offers to dance on my way out. “Hey, hey, hey!” Sandra climbed inside the truck and shut the door. “We’ve only been here twenty minutes! Don’t you at least want to stay for the New Year ’s countdown?” “No.” “Why? What’s wrong? I saw the guy you were talking to in there! He was good-looking!” “Look Sands, I’m not twenty anymore. I can’t keep coming to these things expecting to meet the love of my life. I met mine already, remember?” My voice cracked. “It didn’t work out...” I leaned back in my seat and forced a lump down my throat. The thought of losing my husband to my best friend still hurt to think about. The divorce was long over, but the pain still woke me up some nights, still dragged me out of my sleep and hit me over my heart like a twenty pound sledgehammer. “You’re thinking about Ryan and Amanda, huh?” She handed me a Kleenex. “You have to stop beating yourself up about it. It wasn’t your fault.” “I was so blind to it!” I began to cry. “I let her in my house! I trusted her with my kids! I trusted them both with everything!” “I’m so sorry, Claire...”

My marriage to Ryan Hayes was a fairytale—at least it was to me. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t entirely perfect, but we had far more amazing days than good days, more good days than average days, and hardly any bad days. Ryan was everything I ever wanted in a man. He was attentive and caring, thoughtful and compassionate, and he always remembered the little things that made me happy: Hot coffee on the rainy days I spent typing away in our home office, a warm blanket when I fell asleep in front of the fireplace, and endless chocolate chip cookies and candy bars whenever it was my time of the month. Every time he came home from work, he brought me a single red rose and kissed me like his life depended on it. He treated me to the country club’s spa once a month while he volunteered to watch

our daughters for the day. He even surprised me sometimes by beating me home and cooking dinner for all of us. He was my rock. My soul. My everything. I honestly thought our love would transcend time, that I was one of the lucky ones who would be able to truly uphold the “til death do us part” mantra. Yet, somewhere between the thirteenth and fourteenth year of our marriage, Ryan began to change. He started coming home later and later. He didn’t leave his cell phone out like he normally did; he was extremely protective of it and often took calls in another room. He was more elusive—vague, and anytime I said that I needed to run to the store, he would jump up and volunteer to do it for me. At first, I figured that the late nights had something to do with his new promotion to partner at the law firm; that his recent clingy-ness to his cellphone was just him wanting to be alert should he receive an emergency client call. I couldn’t figure out why he was volunteering to do every single grocery run since he’d always loathed any type of shopping, but I took advantage of not having to do it myself. I chalked everything up to him wanting to be a “super-husband,” and used my extra free time to hang out with my best friend since high school, Amanda. Amanda’s vivacious personality could force the most sullen person to smile. Her voluminous auburn hair and naturally toned body could rival most teenagers, and her love for literature was as immense as mine. At age thirty five, she and her husband Barry were still attempting to have their first baby. They’d attempted everything short of hiring a surrogate, but they hadn’t lost hope. With each in-vitro fertilization treatment, I would bring her a new baby purchase—booties, bibs, collectible teddy bears, and assure her that the doctors were wrong, that she could and would bring a child into the world. So, when she called me one afternoon with news that she was finally pregnant, I cancelled my family BBQ and relocated our celebration to her and Barry’s home. Six months later, Barry called me while I was leaving work. He was talking so fast that I could only make out every other word. “Barry?” I tried to sound calm. “I can’t...I can’t understand you...Are you crying? Is something wrong with Amanda? Is she okay? Did something happen with the baby?” “The baby,” he said, and then he was quiet for a while. “The baby...The baby’s not mine. It’s not mine...” “What? Barry, you’re being ridiculous. You two have been trying to have a baby in every way possible for years. You’re just nervous because he’s almost here. You’re going to be a great father and—” “I was going back and forth to Texas in May...We might’ve had sex once during that month. Maybe.” I stilled. I remembered that. Amanda had been complaining about how little he was at home due to his job. He’d been demoted and his company was making him do all the grunt work, denying his request to attend out-of-state meetings via video chat. I remembered her crying about how alone she felt, how she didn’t think Barry was as serious about having a natural born baby as she was because he’d started talking about adoption. Still, I refused to believe that Amanda’s baby wasn’t his. Who else could it have belonged to? “Barry, I think you’re being paranoid...That one time could’ve been the time you know? I think you should call and discuss this with her. I don’t think I’m the right—”

“It’s not mine.” He groaned. “Meet me at the Marriott around the corner from your job. I know you two are supposedly great friends, but I need to show you something.” “Okay...” I hung up and called Ryan. “Hey baby,” he whispered. “I’m in a meeting. What’s going on?” “I need you to pick the girls up from dance practice today.” “Okay, not a problem. Is something wrong?” “No, I—” I was about to tell him that Barry had called me crying about Amanda, but there was a strange voice in the back of my head telling me not to. “I need to run a few errands and I won’t be able to pick them up on time. That’s all.” “Okay babe. See you at dinner.” When I made it to the Marriot’s lobby, I saw Barry hurling pennies into the wishing well, cursing at any one who dared to stare at him. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and he reeked of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol. I tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around in a rage. But then his eyes softened and he hugged me tightly. “Thank God you’re here...Come with me.” He motioned for me to follow him inside the hotel’s upscale lounge and ordered a bottle of the most expensive champagne on the menu. Sighing several times, he shook his head over and over. “I’ve never really liked wine, Claire.” He filled his glass until it slightly overflowed. “It was always Amanda’s thing. I always thought it tasted like horse shit. The more expensive it is, the worse it tastes.” He’s losing it...I knew I should’ve called Amanda on my way over here... I’ll go call her in the restroom... “Barry, I’m going to run to the—” “She insisted on having this very brand at our wedding. Did you know that?” I shook my head. He took a large gulp and exhaled. “Yep. 1975 Chateau Trotanoy—it’s a Bordeaux...And it’s still as disgusting as it was on the day I married her.” “Barry...” “That’s why I find it quite fitting to drink now, especially since I’ll be filing for a divorce in the morning.” WHAT! “I don’t feel comfortable with you telling me this.” I stood up. “You need to go home and talk to —” “My wife? My philandering, lying, ‘doesn’t-give-a-shit-about-me’ wife? I don’t think so.” He pulled an envelope from his breast pocket and slid it to me. “I hired someone weeks ago to follow her, to find out where the fuck she was spending all her extra time.” I sat down and opened the envelope, flipping through the pictures: Amanda was shopping at a few boutiques, hanging out with me, and attending first time mommy classes. I stopped flipping and put the stack down. “Okay. I need you to listen to me. I really don’t think—” “I didn’t believe it was true either. I mean, my guy would always come back with the same photos week after week. She was at home, at your house, out shopping. Pretty typical stuff on the surface and I almost called him off the job. I thought I was being paranoid. But then one day at dinner I happened to ask her about you. I said, ‘So, how has Claire liked being a freelance marketing director? Is it better than working for an ad agency?’ She said you hadn’t worked at home for years, that you’d been working sixty hour weeks at Cole and Hillman downtown. So I asked myself: If Claire isn’t at home during the day, who is Amanda going there to see? It can’t be Claire’s daughters. They’re in school. So...”

It took me several minutes to absorb what he was trying to imply, several more to even wrap my head around such a ridiculous assertion. “No.” I shook my head. “No...There’s no way. There’s a perfectly good explanation if...” I picked up the packet of photos and flipped through them again. They were all circumstantial: Amanda’s car parked outside my house—she loved my neighborhood’s walking course and often left her car in my driveway to do one of her “thoughtwalks.” There were pictures of her walking along the Hot Metal Bridge in the rain, sitting alone on a bench—probably crying about Barry not being at home again. But then there were pictures of Ryan, my Ryan, sitting next to her on that bench. Kissing her on that bench. There were pictures of their cars parked outside the Hilton in Greentree—the next town over, pictures of them walking through the city park hand in hand, pictures of them having sex from the open windows of my bedroom. The date on this bedroom photo is yesterday... Barry lifted a photo from my hands. “I went to that Hilton myself...I followed them there in a cab. I waited thirty minutes before going inside and pretended to be her brother who happened to get lost on the way. I walked over to the front desk clerk and said, ‘My sister is always bragging about how nice this place is, how often she uses it for a getaway. You must see her a lot huh?’ You want to know what that clerk said to me?” “No.” Tears fell down my face. He took another gulp of his wine. “I’ll tell you anyway. He said, in the most annoyingly excited salesman voice, ‘Oh yeah...She’s been coming here off and on for over a year. She tips every time she comes and she just loves our room service menu.’ For over a year, right under my goddamn nose...” His face reddened and he shook his head. “I wanted to go up there and confront them, but I knew I would’ve killed them—both of them. I can’t pretend that I don’t know anymore, Claire. I can’t pretend to be happy about a baby that’s not mine, and when I got this last set of pictures today, I made up my mind... I’ve hired a lawyer and I’m telling her it’s over tonight. I just thought I would let you know the real reason why before she lied to you like she lied to me.” He banged his fist on the table. I looked through the photos once more, hoping that my eyes were playing tricks on me, that it wasn’t really my best friend and my husband in the shots—praying that I was in some type of sick nightmare. But the images never changed. It was true. “Cheers to faithful spouses.” Barry poured another glass of wine and practically forced me to drink it. That wine was disgusting, but not as disgusting as the following weeks would be...

“It’s okay, Claire.” Sandra motioned for me to switch seats with her. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter 1.5 Claire The summer my divorce was finalized, I wasn’t sure what to do with my life. Everything I’d ever known, everything I ever was, was all entwined with Ryan. He was a huge part of me, an engrained piece of my identity, and I didn’t know who the hell I was without him. I wanted to do the whole Eat, Pray, Love thing—you know, travel the world and try to find myself while tasting new foods, soaking up new cultures, and having reckless sex with a young, hot Brazilian —but I knew that was completely unrealistic: I was in serious debt, I was terrified of planes, and too much time without my daughters would’ve driven me insane. So, instead I opted for long walks in the park, walks that usually ended with me curled up against a rock—sobbing until my sides ached. No matter how hard I tried pretending to be “fine,” there was always something that triggered a miserable memory of my failed marriage: A young couple playing with their children in the park, a flower stand vendor offering discounts on red roses, a group of college kids wearing their “University of Pittsburgh” T-shirts. I tried reading books about divorcées who overcame their pain, hoping to feel inspired or enlightened, but they only made me more depressed. I tried hanging out with my other friends, thinking they would distract me from my agony, but they were more interested in throwing pity parties. After months and months of non-stop bawling, I decided to attack my heartache in stages—well, “phases” if you will: There was the “Dr. Phil and mint chocolate chip ice cream” phase, where I sat up and watched the good doctor rip cheating spouses to shreds. I recorded each and every episode and watched them over and over. I even imitated the twang in his voice as he said, “Whyyyy would you do thattt?!” And I rewarded myself an extra scoop each time I didn’t yell “Liar!” when the cheating spouse tried to justify himself. There was the “recent divorcée group” phase, where I tried to connect with other hurt women at a local church. It was kind of like Alcoholics Anonymous, but shockingly more depressing. None of the women could get two sentences out without sobbing; and, by the time it was my turn, I was too numb to speak. I was planning to end this phase after a few weeks, but after one particular meeting, the lead advisor asked me not to come back. She said she’d noticed that every time I was asked to give a suggestion about an ex-husband to a grieving divorcée, I always said, “You should have him murdered.” I assumed the dead pan tone of my voice and the seriousness in my eyes prevented them from seeing that I was joking... I even went through an “I am woman, hear me roar” phase where I made the following drastic decisions: 1) Cut my waist length hair to barely shoulder length. 2) Picked up a new habit—smoking, which lasted all of one day. 3) Got a tattoo of my “freedom date” (the date of my divorce) on my foot, pierced my ears, and actually accepted the shop’s complimentary belly button piercing. 4) Blasted female power anthems whenever I was in my car, in my work office, or at home cleaning. (I’m pretty

sure my daughters trashed and burned my Shania Twain CD...) 5) Sold all my worldly possessions— except my TV...and my e-reader...and my iPod...and my—Okay, so I just gave away everything that belonged to Ryan. As I was testing out all these phases, my career as senior marketing chair for Cole and Hillman Associates continued to suffer miserably: Our newest client’s product was named “Infidelity” and the company insisted on using the phrase “Some vows were made to be broken” as the tagline. It wasn’t until I spent an entire day crying in a public restroom that I realized what I had to do. I had to leave. I had to start moving on. I quit my job, withdrew my daughters from school, and packed up my SUV. I used what little settlement money I received from my divorce and made the cross country drive from Pittsburgh to my mom’s hometown of San Francisco, California. I bought a small fixer upper in a quaint neighborhood, a house at the very top of a slope. I watched numerous HGTV shows and completed several home improvement projects as my therapy, as a way to keep my mind busy: I stripped all the carpeting and installed hardwood and sleek ceramic tile. I painted each and every room—soft taupe, cream-less ivory, café olay, woodsy red. Within three months of moving, I’d had numerous job interviews, but very few call-backs. After realizing that my options were limited in the recession, I reluctantly took a mid-level marketing job at Statham Industries, a huge downgrade and pay-cut from my previous position. I told myself that less money wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it was a new thing and I needed to do more new things in order to truly move on. Since I’d never been a fan of running, I woke up early every morning and forced myself to run— half a mile at first, then a full mile, and then eventually three miles a day. I had my hair chopped even shorter—from shoulder length to bob-length. I started treating myself to a day at the salon twice a month, something I’d always dreamed of doing but never found the time to do. I even shopped for a whole new wardrobe—trading in my trademark all-black outfits for colorful silk blouses, pencil skirts, flattering dresses, and well-fitted suits. One day while I was out shopping, I met a woman named Sandra Reed. She was one of those people with a mild-mannered yet upbeat personality, someone I felt like I could instantly trust—like I could tell anything to; I was pretty sure her career as a psychiatrist had something to do with that. When I opened up months later and told her the real reason why I’d fled to San Francisco, she insisted that I start going to therapy. Out of respect for our budding friendship, she recommended me to one of her firm’s renowned associates and wrote off my sessions for free. She always encouraged me to go out, to try finding men at singles’ mixers, and to actually attempt dating again. Yet, after four years of being in San Francisco, I still couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t believe too many men would be interested in a middle aged divorcée, and doubted that any man would be able to heal the wounds inflicted by Ryan and Amanda.

Chapter 2 Jonathan Jesus, she’s sexy... I was at a business dinner with some associates when I spotted a gorgeous redhead looking out over the deck of Pacific Bay Lounge. She was absolutely stunning. The short black lace dress she was wearing hugged her curvy body in all the right places and I was straining to see what was underneath that plunging neckline. Her glossy hair was swept to the side in loose curls that barely touched her shoulder and her eyes —soft green eyes, were glimmering against the twinkling lights that hung above her head. “Mr. Statham?” My executive lawyer interrupted my thoughts. “When do you want to go over that proposal?” “Tuesday morning. I have a feeling it’s going to take a long time to sort through everything. I can’t believe they don’t want a merger. They’re going to lose a lot of money with a buyout.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t believe it either, but it might be a power play to test your commitment. I’ll see you Tuesday.” “Me too.” “Have a good New Year ’s.” “See you at corporate.” The rest of the associates shook my hand and walked away. I turned back around to get another look at the red haired goddess, but I didn’t see her anymore. Was I dreaming? How much did I drink tonight? I scanned the pier again and—there she was. She’d moved several feet down. I watched her sip her beer and sigh, wondering if she was attending that party alone. “I think that went pretty well.” My trust advisor Vanessa smiled. “You’re a great conversationalist. It’s a win-win for Statham Industries either way.” “Don’t thank me yet. We still have to get them to close on it.” I stood up. “Thank you for coming tonight. I couldn’t have done it without you.” “You’re leaving? Don’t you want to stay and have a few drinks with me? It is New Year ’s Eve and I don’t have anybody to kiss after the countdown...” “Vanessa, we’ve been through this. You know I don’t date employees.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a regular employee. I’m a chair on the board.” Even worse... “Yeah well, mixing business with pleasure? It’s more than a cliché. Besides, I don’t want things getting complicated between us.” “They won’t get complicated.” She reached up and touched my face. “You and I would be perfect together and you know it...” I sighed. Vanessa and I did have good chemistry and we’d come close to kissing in my office several times over the past year, but I always broke away. Even though she was extremely beautiful— curly coffee-brown hair, ocean blue eyes, and an amazing body—there was something missing, and I wasn’t quite sure what that was. Maybe it’s nothing...Maybe I should give us a chance after all...We are really compatible and— Out the corner of my eye, I saw the redhead moving down the pier again.

“I’ll see you at the next meeting, Vanessa.” I pushed my way past the café tables and looked back over my shoulder every few seconds, making sure the redhead was still there. I rushed over to the front doors of Pacific Bay Lounge and made my way inside. I looked around the room and stopped. There was a banner with the word “Jiggy” on it. There were little napkins on the tables that read “Cheers to the first middle-aged mixer of 2013!” The majority of the people in the room were clearly in their forties and fifties. Some of them were even wearing party hats with their ages written on them in glitter. There were a few younger people scattered about, but those people were holding serving trays or cleaning off tables. There’s no way the woman I saw was middle-aged... I made my way out to the pier and looked around. I leaned on the railing and looked both ways. She wasn’t there. I walked back and forth along the deck, aimlessly searching, trying to find her. I went back inside and waded through the crowd, but she was nowhere to be found. “Hello there.” A woman’s hand landed on my shoulder, making me turn around. “What brings you out tonight?” She purred. She was an extremely attractive older woman—I guessed at least fifty years old, and I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she was the assertive type. “Good evening.” I smiled. “I just came in looking for someone particular.” “She’s right in front of you.” She rubbed her hand across my chest and batted her eyes. Oh god...“Umm...” “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t interested in older women.” She reached up and playfully ran her fingers through my hair. “Those young girls don’t know how to treat a man right, do they? But I do. We should get out of here before someone tries to steal you away from me. My place?” I started to say, “I’m sorry. I can’t do that,” but my breath caught in my throat once I felt her hand sliding down my pants. I gently grabbed her hand and moved it away. “I’m not here looking for—I don’t... I was really here looking for someone else.” “Oh my god! I’m sorry!” She gasped. “I thought...I’m so sorry.” She looked embarrassed. “If it’s any consolation,” I said as I adjusted my pants, “you’re very attractive and I’m sure you’ll find the right guy soon.” Before she could reply, I turned around and bolted out of there.

I walked into the security director ’s office and shut the door. “You’re here on time?” My best friend Corey rolled his eyes. “What am I supposed to be doing for you again? Stalking some woman you met?” “It’s not stalking.” “Whatever you call it, it’s highly illegal. But since you said it was love at first sight, I guess I can make an exception.” “First of all, it’s not love. Second of all, I don’t even know who she is.” “So, why am I hacking into the security footage of Pacific Bay Lounge at seven in the morning?” I sighed. “Because you’re my best friend and an employee. Don’t act like this is against your morals or something, Corey. You do this all the time.” “I do, huh?” He laughed. “What’s the time frame?” “New Year ’s Eve between eleven thirty and midnight.” He began typing away at his keyboard and the twenty massive screens that covered his office wall

began to illuminate in grids and static. “Wait. You were having a business dinner that late at night? Since when do you agree to those?” “Since the client is worth five hundred million dollars.” My eyes focused on the screens that were now showing people walking in and out of the lounge. “She was wearing a short black dress. Is there any way you could color code this thing by clothes or search for people by their hair color? She’s a redhead.” He looked at me and raised his eyebrow. “You said you saw her on the pier, right? I’ll just tap into those cameras...Give me a second. They have some pretty outdated software...And surprise, there’s no audio, only visual...” The screens started to show the pier action in slow motion. People were lounging on couches, drinking beers, and dancing next to the speakers. “Wait.” I stepped closer to the screens. “That’s her. Pause it.” The images suddenly froze and I looked the woman over again. She was walking out onto the deck with a beer in her hand, slightly pursing her plump, pink lips. From the angle of the cameras I could see that her fitted black dress cut right above the top of her thighs and gave way to a set of perfectly toned legs. She was even sexier than I remembered. “I’d probably waste company resources trying to find her too.” Corey nodded his head in approval. “You said she was fifty? She looks pretty damn good to be fifty. I say go for it. I would.” “What? I’m not sure how old she is. She can’t be much older than me though.” He pressed play on the video again and paused it when she leaned over the railing. “She has Ccups...Not bad.” “How old are you again?” “It’s a habit. If I had to guess, I would say she’s thirty or a tad bit younger. Any older than that, and she knows where the Fountain of Youth is hidden. Actually, now that I think about it, I meant to tell you that there was an article about—” “Please not today.” I shook my head. “You need to stop reading those conspiracy books. There’s no such thing as the Fountain of Youth.” “Really? Well explain Johnny Depp.” He crossed his arms. I rolled my eyes. “Exactly. If I wasn’t making so much money working for you, I’d be out there trying to find it myself.” “Good to know. Is there any way you could access the cameras in the parking lot? I need to get her license plate number and–” “And what? Show up to her house and say, ‘Hey. I tried to find you at the lounge the other night but you were already gone. But don’t worry, I had my friend hack the security system so I could get your tags to get your address and come ask you out?’ Seriously?” “I wouldn’t say it exactly like that, but—” “Forget it. All the street cameras are managed and monitored through Flynn-tech and they’re impossible to hack. Trust me, I’ve tried it.” “So what do you suggest I do?” “Um, move on?” He turned off the screens. “You don’t even know her name. Yeah she’s beautiful, but there are plenty of other beautiful women out there. I’m sure you of all people can find another one in a heartbeat. Speaking of which, why don’t you give Vanessa a chance? She has no baggage, she’s insanely hot, and she practically loves you already.” “She’s an employee. It’s against company policy. I specifically ordered that a no-fraternization clause be included when I started this company, remember?” He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You can find yourself another pretty redhead.”

That was true, but I’d never thought about a woman after meeting her for the first time. It usually took a couple dates or a few lengthy phone calls to keep a woman on my mind—but I hadn’t even met this woman yet. I’d also never asked Corey to find footage of someone I was interested in before. I’d never been that intrigued.

I pulled into a grocery store parking lot and sighed. Thanks to a dry-cleaning mix up, I was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and would have to run home to get another suit. I was supposed to be at a board meeting in an hour, but I honestly didn’t feel like going. I felt like driving back home, turning off all my phones, and pretending like I wasn’t the CEO for the rest of the day. Anytime I felt this way, I had to force myself to revisit painful memories of my past; memories that made me realize that I needed to be grateful for all that I had—that I could still be wandering around in a trailer park going through people’s trashcans, begging disabled neighbors for their leftovers. Still, sometimes that wasn’t enough. I was starting to hate my company and all the obligations that came with it. For the past few months, the board had been pressuring me to lay off thousands of low level employees. They swore it would save us millions, but I didn’t want to do that. If I was going to fire anyone to save money, I would lay off the people that made the most money—the senior level executives that spent more time on the golf course than they did at their desks. As a matter of fact, ever since I made the decision to relocate company headquarters from New York City to San Francisco six years ago, the board members had questioned my every decision—as if I hadn’t started the company myself, without their help. If their past donations hadn’t helped me grow my first software company from a side job in college to a billion dollar empire within a decade, I would’ve written them off years ago. Why did I ever bother becoming the CEO? Why didn’t I just sell the company once I dropped out of college? My cell phone started to ring. An Ohio number. Allen Correctional Institution. I debated whether or not I should answer it, letting the full chorus of Coldplay’s “Clocks” play before picking it up. “Father.” I answered. “Jonathan! How are you son?” “I’m fine.” “And how’s your company?” “Great.” “You don’t have to be so short with me all the time. I was just...I was just calling because I haven’t heard from you in a while...I wanted to say thank you for putting all that money on my books last week.” He paused. “I stocked up on honeybuns and blue shampoo...Are you going to your mother ’s graduation?” “I always go to her graduations. She seems to graduate every year...” He sighed. “She’s going to stay clean this time. She promised me.” “Okay. I believe you,” I said like I had several times before. “I meant what I said last month. I want to be a part of your life again, Jonathan. I know I wasn’t the best father but...I’ve always been very proud of you and I want to do whatever I can to fix our relationship.”

“This call is currently being monitored and recorded by the Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Corrections. There are thirty seconds left on the call.” The all-too-familiar automated voice droned on the line. “Okay.” I sighed. “Well...I’ll do my best to remember that. I’ll send you a letter this week and...Don’t forget that I promised to take you out for a beer in six years. Hope you’re still looking forward to that.” “I am. I’ll hold you to that, son.” “Goodbye.” I hung up. I knew I should’ve been more enthusiastic about his phone call or about my mother completing drug rehab, but the excitement tended to wane after someone relapsed twelve times, after someone disappointed you so much that you no longer believed in them. I tried to shake the thought of my messed up parents out of my mind and revved up my car. I was about to hit the gas in reverse, but I suddenly heard the jangling of a grocery cart from behind. I sighed and looked in my rearview mirror, prepared to honk at whoever was there, but I saw that it was the beautiful woman I’d seen days ago. She was wearing a dark gray pencil skirt and a pink silk blouse, but her hair was different today. It was bone straight and the wind seemed to enjoy tossing it as she walked. She pushed her cart past my car without looking my way, but I still caught a glimpse of her gorgeous green eyes. I watched her walk inside and turned off my car. Before I could step out, my phone rang again. Oasis Drug and Rehabilitation Center. My mother. So much for not thinking about the past today...

Chapter 2.5 Jonathan Summer 2002 It was raining. Hard. Streaks of lightning were dancing across the sky, and rain bullets were beating across my window pane. As I looked outside, I saw the reflections of my miserable life in the downpour: Both my parents were denied an early release from prison, my little sister had been sent to live with yet another foster family, and my own terrible excuse for a foster family was trying their hardest to convince me to stay in state for college; they knew that if I stayed, they would get a bonus check from the Children’s Welfare Office for successfully raising a child who remained in state for college. I knew that my life was bound to be terrible if I spent any more time in the hell hole that was Ohio, so that night I made a plan to get out. I told my foster parents that I’d decided to go to the University of Dayton, and that right after my graduation ceremony, I wanted to go to a nice restaurant and celebrate. The greedy look in their eyes almost made me hurl on the spot, but I kept playing the part. I smiled and told them I was grateful for all they’d done for me over the years. I just left out the part about them hijacking my parents’ prison letters, taking me clothes shopping at Goodwill while their biological kids were allowed to shop at real stores, and reminding me day in and day out that I would “end up just like [my] parents one day—a cracked out meth-head who deserved to rot behind bars.” When the day of my graduation came, I set my well thought out plan in motion: I stuffed my best pants and shirts into a backpack, five hundred dollars I’d made from secretly doing college kids’ computer science homework, and a few essentials for a life on the run. “What’s that backpack for?” My foster-mother Luanne walked into my room. “It’s my outfit I’m going to wear after the ceremony. I want to dress more casual at dinner.” “Oh! Of course! No one wants to get their fancy suit dirty at dinner.” She adjusted my tie. “It’s too bad you weren’t born into this family. We could’ve bought you a better suit, but you know how it is. The state only gives us enough money to feed you, not clothe you.” I tried not to flinch as she ran a lint-brush against my shoulders. “Your high school graduation is going to be the highlight of your life.” She sighed. “You probably won’t last that long in college, but don’t worry, neither me nor Bob expect you to.” “Thank you very much...” “I still can’t imagine what it must have been like to have meth-dealers as parents. It must have been awful! I think about it every day and I feel so bad for you.” She stepped back to look at me. “But then I say to myself: Luanne, thank god you saved that boy, even if it is only temporary and he becomes a druggie just like his pitiful parents. At least he’ll have some fond memories to look back on while he sits in prison!” She smiled. “I’m going to get my camera!” She left and I thought about jumping out the window right then and there. But I knew that was futile. We lived in the middle of nowhere and I needed the family car to get me into the city.

My foster brother Corey walked into the room and shut the door behind him. He crossed his arms and stared at me for a long time. I was tempted to tell him that today would be the last day I would ever see him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He and I had actually become great friends despite his parents’ treatment of me, and if I wasn’t so broken on the inside I would’ve stayed a little longer—just for him and his little sister. “I’m sorry about my parents.” He sighed. “But I want you to know that I really liked having a brother—a lot. Are you going to forget all about me and Jessica when you leave and start over? I can’t blame you if you say yes.” “What are you talking about? I’m not—” “Don’t worry.” He picked up my backpack and stuffed a brown paper bag inside. “I’m not going to tell my parents. I’ll act like I don’t know anything. Just promise me that when you prove them wrong and do something big with your life, you’ll find me and Jessica and hang out with us again.” “Promise. Are you still going to Notre Dame in the fall?” “Yeah, but you’re not going to the University of Dayton. Are you?” I froze. I wasn’t sure what to say. “I—” “I know I’m not as good as you are with computers, but you do know that I’m a master hacker right?” He laughed. “I hacked into the university’s list of confirmed students for the fall and your name wasn’t on it. You weren’t on any lists at any college that accepted you. So, I started thinking about what I would be planning if I were you, and I—” “I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you, Corey. I just couldn’t—” “We can email each other to stay in touch. Whatever you do, don’t look back once you leave. You need to stick to buses and cabs—take alternative routes even if it forces you to go out of your way. Oh, and don’t open that brown bag I gave you until you’re out of the state.” He stood up and gave me a brief hug. “Jessica knows too by the way...She’s too hurt to say goodbye, but she understands and she says she loves you.” “Oh my god! Look at the two of you!” Luanne burst through my door with the camera. “I need a picture of my sons! Well, a photo of my foster son and my real son! Both of you stand together! Smile on three! One! Two!—”

“Hey! Kid!” The cab driver snapped me out of my thoughts. “Wake up! This is as far as forty five bucks will take you.” I looked outside and saw tall stone buildings, but I couldn’t make out what any of them were. I’d been hopping from bus to bus and cab to cab for days and I’d lost all sense of location because everywhere I went it was raining. “Thank you.” I handed him the money and stepped out of the car. Within seconds, the thin jacket and tattered jeans I was wearing were completely drenched. I had an umbrella in my backpack, but I knew pulling it out now was useless. I walked through what appeared to be a college campus—there was greenery and buildings every few feet, but each building I attempted to get into was locked. I apparently needed an access card to get in. A Harvard University access card. I’d been accepted into Harvard months ago, but I never wrote back to confirm. As soon as I’d read that their top computer science graduate from the past year was a guy who developed a mini computer —something I’d done when I was fourteen, I decided that there was nothing they could teach me. I saw a group of students holding the door to a lecture hall open, so I rushed past them. I walked down the hallway, peering into every classroom, cursing when I saw that they were all filled. Once I was at the end of the hall, I slipped inside a dark classroom and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Nice of you to join us on time. Have a seat in the back please.” The lights came on and a blond haired man in a tweed suit stood up behind a podium. “Anytime now, son...” The class laughed and I walked up the steps, taking a seat in the last row. I ignored the itchy feel of damp denim against my skin and looked up at the board: Summer Course, Advanced Software 4100. All the students had laptops and state of the art data configuration boards on their desks. All of them looked way older than I was. I guess this is a senior level course... “So...” The professor moved the projector screen from the center of the room. “We’ve been deconstructing our hypothetical company ‘Beta Link’ and so far we have three people in the running for the best computer: George Hamilton II, Lindsay Franco, and William Dane. Could the three of you come up here and show the class what you’ve built please?” They took their places up front and explained their computers in the most mundane voices I’d ever heard. It was bad enough that their computers sucked, but their sense of arrogance and know-itall attitudes were even harder to bear. They have access to the best technology in the world and this is the best they can come up with? “Very impressive!” The professor clapped. “To everyone else in this room, you have quite the competition if you’re going to get an A. Does anyone have any questions for George, Lindsay, or William?” No one raised their hand. “No one? No one has a question about how they developed their processors? You’re just going to let them walk away with the top grades? I can only give out a certain number of A’s you know. There is a very steep curve in this class and I will be putting it to use...” I raised my hand. “Yes, you.” He pointed to me. “What do you want to ask?” “Those aren’t really the best computers, right? You’re just using those three as an example to make the rest of—the rest of us work harder, correct?” The room erupted into murmurs. Everyone looked back and forth between me and the professor. “No. I’m not,” he said. “These are indeed the best computers in the class, and seeing as though you didn’t bring yours to critique today makes me feel like they’re definitely better than whatever you built. But, since you seem to think that—” “George’s computer will crash in six weeks.” I crossed my arms. “He’s over-compassing the ram drive with unnecessary wiring. One too many shut downs and it’ll never turn on again. Lindsay’s computer, if you want to call it that, is using all the wrong materials. Unless everyone else in this class is using sticks and stones, a computer with recycled coils and used wiring should never be considered a good computer. Technology isn’t up to date enough for eco-computers yet. And William’s computer, though impressive to look at, is—actually, he pretty much copied Dell’s earliest model and re-drafted a few mechanisms. Any high-school student with half a brain can do that.” The room fell silent. The professor took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. “Class dismissed.” He shook his head and the students rushed out of the room, as if they were scared he was about to explode. I stood up and walked down the steps, ignoring the intense glares that were coming from the three computer clowns who were putting their toys away. “Wait, you.” The professor waved at me. “I want to talk to you for a second.” He waited for everyone to leave the room. “What’s your name?” “Bill Gates.” “Your real name...”

“Jonathan Statham,” I murmured. “Mr. Statham, you’re not a student in this class are you?” I shook my head. “Do you even go to this school?” “No...” “So, what made you come here today?” He motioned for me to sit in the front row. “You look like you’re still in high school. Are you still in high school?” He waited for me to say something, but I only blinked. “Okay then...” He sat down next to me. “Tell me how someone randomly shows up to Harvard and knows more about computers than my senior honors students.” I sighed. I thought about coming up with a lie, telling him that I really was a student and just wanted to drop in on a high level class, but I was tired of lying, tired of running. “My parents used to—” Accept electronics for the meth they sold sometimes? “They used to um, leave electronics around the house and I would look at how all their parts worked...And I would steal —I mean, I would borrow books from the library and read about computer mechanics...” “You never went to a tech camp?” “No.” “Hmmm.” He rubbed his chin. “So, your goal is to sneak into Harvard?” I rolled my eyes. “If I wanted to come here, I would’ve accepted the offer.” I realized he was probably going to call the cops on me for trespassing, so I put on my best apologetic face. “I’m sorry for today. I won’t interrupt your kindergarten class again. I’m gonna go—” “I’m not going to call security on you.” He laughed. Then he suddenly looked serious. “Where are you from?” I didn’t say anything. “Okay...Do your parents know you’re here? I’m sure they’re worried sick about you...” “They’re in prison.” He looked sympathetic. “Well, your legal guardians must be looking for—” “I’m eighteen.” I wasn’t a ward of the state anymore. I didn’t belong to anyone, and if his classroom wasn’t so warm I would have walked out as soon as he asked me what my name was. “You must have made pretty good grades in high school to get accepted here, Jonathan...What number were you in your class?” Why do I feel like I can trust this guy? “First. I gave a speech and everything.” I reached into my backpack and pulled out my crumpled speech, tossing it to him. I was hoping he would actually read it for some reason—unlike my foster parents who’d seemed completely oblivious to the fact that I was the valedictorian. As he looked over the speech, I realized I hadn’t opened the brown paper bag from Corey. I peered into the bag and saw a framed picture of me, him, and Jessica, a flash-drive with “read” scribbled across it, a stack of my parents’ unopened prison letters, and a one thousand dollar check addressed to me. There was an orange post-it clipped to the back of it: “Cash it some place sketchy— like a liquor store or a bail bonds place so I can re-route the information about where it was cashed...Your welcome, Corey. PS—Please let me know if you find the Fountain of Youth while you’re traveling...I’m convinced it’s in New York now...” “Jonathan, what if I told you that I’ve been looking for a student with your potential to help me out on a new computer that I’m developing?” The professor caught my attention. “A computer that would change everything?” “I would say I don’t believe you. Then I would say I hope it’s not one of the computers that I saw today.”

“Fair enough.” He chuckled. “Well, what if I said I wanted to help you?” Ha! “No thanks. I’ve had enough help to last me a lifetime.” I took my speech from his hands, stood up, and headed for the door. Before I could turn the knob, he jumped in front of me. “I have a one year assistance scholarship that I can award to any student. It’s supposed to be for graduate level students only, but if your background checks out...It’ll cover one year of tuition and a small part of your room and board. You would still have to find a job or two to cover the rest, but I honestly think you would make an excellent student and an even better developer one day. And, if you work hard enough during your first year, I could convince the academic committee to consider you for other scholarships.” What? “I’ll do a background check on you tonight.” He adjusted his glasses. “If you are who you say you are and you agree to work with me on this project, you’ve got free classes at Harvard and a once in a lifetime opportunity to work on a national project. What’s your phone number so I can—” “You think I have a cell phone?” “I’m sorry...” He looked me over, probably noticing that I was still soaking wet and carrying a dingy and holey backpack. “I just assumed that you...Where were you planning on sleeping tonight?” I didn’t answer him. I just looked around the classroom. I figured that since my next bus wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow that I’d hide out in the building and sleep underneath a staircase once the janitors were done cleaning. “My name’s Mr. Lowell, Jonathan.” He walked over to his desk and grabbed his briefcase. “If you don’t have any prior obligations, Mrs. Lowell is making pasta tonight and we have a guest room you can use for a few days while we sort this thing out.” I looked away from Mr. Lowell and shook my head. I was ashamed of myself. I’d broken every rule of living on the run in a matter of minutes: I wasn’t supposed to talk to anyone. I wasn’t supposed to trust anyone. I was supposed to keep to myself until I arrived in New York—until I stormed into IBM headquarters and forced them to listen to my ideas. Yet, there was sincerity in this man’s eyes, and a national project with access to the best technology in the world was too tempting to pass up. For an entire year, I used every free minute I had to work on Mr. Lowell’s project. In between soaring through my classes and working three jobs to cover the expensive dorm and food costs, I managed to help him earn a seven hundred thousand dollar grant to build more of his impressive Ltech laptop. Right after he was officially awarded the money, he handed me an envelope that contained a twenty thousand dollar check, saying that it would help me pay the remaining part of my sophomore year ’s tuition. I was about to run to the bank and cash it immediately, but he snatched it back. “You know what, Jonathan? You’re better than this.” He shook his head. “Tell you what, instead of this check, I’m going to give you something even better.” “A bigger check?” “Funny.” He snorted. “I’m going to be the first investor in your company. I’ll even host a dinner with my wife to get you other investors this weekend. I don’t think you need to waste any more time taking classes with people who aren’t as smart as you. You need to drop out and start working on your own company. I’ll help you in any way that I can for the first year.” “What are you talking about? I don’t have a company, Mr. Lowell...” And I want my check back! “Statham Inc.? Statham Enterprises? Statham Industries! It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” He slid my award check into his briefcase and picked it up. “Trust me, in five years, you’ll have the

amount of this check times a hundred. As of now, it’ll just be my consulting fee.” He patted my shoulder and walked out of the room.

Chapter 3 Claire Today was one of those days when I honestly felt like I’d wasted the best years of my life. I’d spent all morning watching the Lifetime channel, going through old photo albums, and listening to one of my other San Fran friends—Helen, talk about how she’d been nominated for “Lawyer of the Year.” She went on and on about how the ceremony was going to be in Vegas, how they’d booked a celebrity for a guest speaker, and how she just couldn’t wait to lounge in a rooftop pool; all the nominees were entitled to the five star treatment, which included having their own penthouse suite. Although I was extremely happy for her, I was also slightly jealous. Helen was thirty nine years old too, but unlike me, she seemed to have it all together: She had her own law firm, traveled somewhere new and exciting every month, and the stories she told me about her sex life made me wish I’d had more experience before tying myself down to Ryan. As a matter of fact, anytime Helen, Sandra, and I had a ‘girls’ night,’ she always overwhelmed us with salacious stories about her newest lover. At first, I thought she was just doing it to brag, but after a while I realized that she was doing me a favor. She was making me see how pathetic my nonexistent sex life was, trying to help me get in tune with something called an “inner goddess.” But, since I refused to date, I relied on vibrating friends to get the job done: They were effective, easy, and I didn’t have to worry about them cheating on me. Once I was off the phone with Helen, I decided to do some work. I started looking over my associates’ latest slogan submissions and proposed ad ideas. I read through three of them and shut the folder, making an immediate break for my car. I’m going to need some serious wine to get through this today... I rushed over to the grocery store and made my way to the magazine section. I figured I would buy yet another set of magazines to show my associates the difference between good advertisements and bad advertisements. I picked up InStyle, Vogue, Us Weekly, and stilled once I caught a magazine with “Divorce Edition” scrawled across its cover. I picked it up and flipped through the pages, shaking my head at the stupid advice the so-called “experienced divorcées” were giving: “Forgive him and let it go! That’s the easy part!” “Try to schedule time for yourself to cry in private!” “Travel alone and see the world as soon as the ink on the papers dries!” Any woman who was cheated on and says her self-esteem wasn’t crushed is a goddamn liar... I stopped reading the “How I Kept My Esteem Intact After the Affair” article and sauntered down the spices aisle. Pepper...Bay leaves...Parsley...Paprika...Paprika? Ryan’s favorite... I picked up the paprika and froze. I was supposed to brush the thought of him away as soon as he entered my mind. I was supposed to say, “The collapse of my marriage was not my fault,” take a deep breath, and move on to doing something else. That didn’t work today. I felt a soft lump rise up my throat and choked back a sob. I closed my eyes and tried to think of a happy memory, but only the worst one came...

I was trembling, shaking so violently I wasn’t sure how I was standing up straight. I was in my kitchen, staring at Ryan, watching him pick up the incriminating photos off the floor. “Claire...” He picked up the last one and sighed. “Can we please talk about this?” “About what?” I hissed. “About what you...about me having an affair.” “Oh yes! My husband fucking my best friend! For over a year! Let’s discuss that, shall we?” “You don’t have to be so loud, Claire. I’m trying to—” “I can be as loud as I want! You’re having an affair with Amanda! She was my maid of honor for Christ’s sake! I don’t even know where to start, Ryan! How could you?” “Our daughters are upstairs. We—” “Our daughters? Our daughters! Don’t try to act like you suddenly give a damn about this family! You weren’t thinking about any of us when your dick was buried in—” “Enough!” He began to cry and walked over to me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...I messed up and—” “You messed up?” I felt my heart constrict. “Yes...I messed up and I’m—” “Ryan...” I put my hand over my chest to prevent my heart from jumping out. “Messing up is picking the girls up late from school. Messing up is leaving the chicken in the oven for too long. Messing up is forgetting our anniversary—which is in two weeks, by the way. Cheating on me? Sleeping with my best friend? That’s fucked up. And it’s unforgivable. How long has it really been going on?” He sighed and I slowly backed away from our cutlery set. “Hello? Ryan! How long has it been going on?” “Claire, listen to me—” “Tell me! Tell me right now!” I looked away from his eyes because deep down I didn’t really want to know. “I’ve always had feelings for Amanda...” My heart gave out and crumbled inside my chest. My knees buckled and my body slumped down to the floor. He continued, “I had feelings for her but I never acted on them because...” He sat down on the floor. “Because I was in love with you. I never intended to act on those feelings, but last January we were both drinking and one thing led to another and—” “And you had sex?” “Yes...And I—” “Where?” “Where, what?” I took a deep breath. “Where did you have sex that time? Where was this happening?” He avoided my eyes. “Here...You were out of town at that Parker Brothers conference...And I know that I should’ve stopped that day. I should’ve told you, but I couldn’t. I honestly didn’t know how to break it to you because it was more than just sex between us. It was—” “Are you the father of her baby?” I needed to hear him say it. He didn’t answer. “Are you the father of her baby?!” I screamed. “Yes.” His voice cracked. “I...I’m so sorry you had to find out this way and that I put you through this...I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again. I’ll have to pay her child support, but I’ll let her go. I’ll go to counseling and we can—”

“Are you in love with her?” “Claire, don’t—” “Answer me! Are you in love with her?” “Yes.” “Do you still love me?” “Of course I love you, Claire. I—” “Are you in love with me?” His silence was the loudest answer he’d given all night. His lack of words unraveled me and forced me to break down right in front of him. He began talking over my cries, saying words of some kind, but all I could hear was the roaring of blood in my ears, the literal shattering of my heart. I curled into the fetal position and cried my eyes out. I kept saying, “Get away from me, it’s over,” but he wrapped his cold arms around me and refused to let me go. I wanted to believe that we could get through this together, that he could fall in love with me again and we could put this affair behind us. But as his clammy fingers caressed my shoulders, I realized that I didn’t trust him anymore. And I didn’t want to hurt myself even more by having to learn how to trust him again. In the morning, with the one shred of dignity I had left, I calmly told him that I wanted a divorce.

“The collapse of my marriage was not my fault.” I exhaled and opened my eyes. I felt my phone vibrating and held it up to my ear. “Hello?” “Mom, I need some Pop-Tarts.” “Caroline, you have a car and a part-time job. Go to the store and buy them yourself.” “I spent my last check on an iPod! Besides, Ashley said you were at the grocery store and I can’t do my work without Pop-tarts. Can you get some for me and drop them off at the library? Please?” Sometimes, I swore that my daughters weren’t related to me. They couldn’t be. At sixteen years old, they had all the book smarts in the world, but their common sense IQ was probably negative. “How old are you?” “Sixteen.” She sighed. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Let me call you back mom! The ice cream truck is coming up the street! I have to get an Elmo-sicle!” Just as I was about to put my phone back into my purse, my other daughter called. “Yes, Ashley?” “How long was I supposed to keep that bread in the oven?” “You weren’t supposed to touch that bread at all, Ashley. I said it was for dinner. It was going to go with the spaghetti and—” “I was hungry! What was I supposed to eat?” “Leftover chicken salad, sushi—” “I’m a vegan since last night mom.” She gave me one of her ‘you-just-don’t-understand-me’ groans. “Remember? I can’t eat meat. Can you get me some soy products while you’re out? And I’m totally sorry, but I completely burned that bread...Shouldn’t the oven have made a sound to alert me? And why does every plastic pan I put in the oven burn up? What’s that about?” Oh my god... “I’ll see you when I get home, Ashley.” I hung up. My daughters were not related to me. If I was sixteen years old with a job and a shared car, I wouldn’t be calling my mother about anything. Then again—I scrolled down my phone’s list and called my own mother. “Mom, are you still coming over for dinner tonight?” “Sure. What time should I be there?”

“Seven o’ clock. And I need you to bring some bread over. I had some ready but Ashley put another plastic pan in the oven.” “You need to get those girls checked out, Claire. I told you they were born with half a brain.” “Tell me about it. See you tonight, mom. I’ll—” “Wait! Robert Millington told me you still haven’t called him. He really wants to take you out. I think he’d be good for you!” I tried not to groan. Robert was the son of my mom’s best friend. He was two years older than me, but he wasn’t attractive and he was extremely dull—worse-than-watching-paint-dry dull. His idea of great conversation was discussing the differences between American and British politics. “No thanks, mom. Not interested.” “Why not? He’s a good guy! He has his own law firm, he’s in great shape—” “And he’s boring. I’ll pass. See you tonight, mom.” I hung up. I made my way down the beverage aisle and grabbed a carton of dry milk. I headed for the meat section and grabbed a few pounds of beef—soy beef. As I walked by, I looked up at the reflective glass that hung over the chicken display. I still had problems recognizing myself on some days. I was still coming to terms with the new and improved me—the woman who actually enjoyed putting on make-up and spending more than twenty minutes on her hair. You still got it...You still got it...You still— I pushed my basket straight into a display of cereal boxes. Great... Stooping down, I began putting it back together the best way I could. I wanted to fix everything before the snotty manager came over and said his infamous, “Mistakes like this are what drive our prices up.” “Need some help?” A deep voice said from behind. “Sure.” I didn’t look up. I kept stacking the red boxes in between the yellow ones, making sure each box was perfectly aligned into the tacky half diamond formation. As I stacked the last cereal box atop the display, I turned to look at the man who’d helped me out. OH. MY. GOD... He had one of those faces that belonged in a Ralph Lauren ad—stark blue eyes that gleamed with the faintest hint of light, a perfectly chiseled jaw line with a light sexy stubble, and full, well-defined lips that looked inviting enough to kiss all day. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a black sweat shirt with “San Fran” in white letters. And for some odd reason, he was smiling at me. He’s probably a student at the law school down the street....If only I could go back in time...Oh well... “Umm...Thank you for your help.” I turned away and went back to my basket. “Wait a minute,” he said as he walked over. “I didn’t catch your name.” How cute... “Claire.” “Nice to meet you, Claire. I’m Jonathan.” He reached out to shake my hand. “I know this may seem forward, but I can’t leave the store without knowing if I can I take you out tonight.” What? Did he just ask me out? For tonight? “Umm...” “You can pick the place.” He smiled a perfect white smile and ran a hand through his jet black hair. “And we can meet there if you don’t want me to pick you up.” Stop looking at his smile and avert your gaze somewhere lower...Not that lower!

“I would but...” I literally couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was the sexiest man I’d ever seen—his face had to have been personally sculpted by the Gods, and I was starting to feel this strange rush of warmth coursing through my veins. “I can’t.” “Is it because you’re seeing someone else?” His eyes veered to my bare left hand. “Are you married?” He has to be kidding me... “No. I’m not married or seeing anyone else. I’m—” “So would eight o’ clock tonight be fine? Where exactly do you want to meet?” He looked directly into my eyes and I almost collapsed onto the floor. The look he was giving me should’ve been reserved for a seductive scene in a romance movie and his dreamy smile was lethal... “Look, I’m completely flattered but you look kind of young.” He furrowed his eyebrow. “That’s very nice of you to say, but that doesn’t answer my question. Where do you want to—” “How old are you, Jonathan?” “Twenty eight.” His beautiful eyes lit up. Twenty eight?! Why am I still standing here entertaining him? He’s eleven years younger than me! No thanks... “Well, that’s way too young for me. I have a little cousin that’s more in your age range. She’s currently studying law, but if you want I can call and ask her if—” “You don’t want to go out with me?” “No. I’m way too old for you and I’m not a cougar or a cradle robber. I have two daughters and I would feel some type of way if they dated someone who had our age difference.” “Our age difference?” “Yes. I’m thirty nine, which means that when you were eight years old and learning how to build fires with the Boy Scouts, I was nineteen and in college. It means that when you were nineteen and trying to figure out what major you wanted to pick, I was thirty trying to build a career in marketing. And just in case you don’t realize how many years there are that separate us, there are eleven. Do you not see the problem with that?” “Not really.” He grinned. “But I can’t force someone to go out with me, can I? Could I at least give you my number just in case you change your mind?” “Sure.” I took out my phone and vowed to delete his number later. “It’s 555-9845...I really hope you change your mind, Claire.” He gave me another one of those seductive glances and walked away.

“What are you waiting for? Call him, Claire! Tonight!” “Shhhh! I don’t want everyone here in my personal life, Sands!” “Whatever,” she whispered. “Why can’t you go out with him?” “He’s twenty eight!” “Which means he’s practically thirty! What’s the problem? He didn’t ask you to marry him. He simply asked you out and told you to suggest the place.” “Wouldn’t that make me a cougar though? Eleven years younger than me? Wait, twelve years younger than me once Friday gets here...What would my mom think? What about his mother?” “Claire, it’s a simple date. At the very least, maybe you two will hit it off, go out a few more times, and then you can finally get some sex! How long has it been again?” My associates all looked up at me.

“Get back to work!” I waited for them to look away from me and glared at Sandra. “I’ve only been here a few years. Could we try not to have my associates gossiping about me?” “Sorry.” She followed me into my corner office. “You hate it here anyway...All I’m trying to say is that you haven’t been on a date in a while and—” “I went out last month, remember? Tucker Williams. He was a pediatric surgeon and—” “Please! He didn’t ask a single thing about you the entire night and he cursed at you once you didn’t invite him in. Now that I think about it, that’s the only date you’ve been on since you moved here! In four years! You really need to start dating again.” I sighed. “I will, I will—only men that are my age or a little older though.” “Fine, but you don’t have a good reason not to take this Jonathan guy up on his offer. Who cares if he’s younger? You did say he was attractive, right?” He’s more than just “attractive”... “Yeah.” I leaned against my desk. “He is...” “So go for it! You can still search for a more mature guy in the meantime, but can’t you have a little fun until you find one?” “Okay, okay. I’ll call him tonight.” “Miss Gracen?” My assistant buzzed in. “Yes, Rita?” “Mr. Barnes wants all the directors in the conference room for the weekly overview session.” “I’ll be right there.” I hit the end button on my office intercom and gave Sandra a hug. “I guess I should get back to my practice huh?” She shrugged. “Don’t forget to call me after you talk to him.” She walked towards the east elevators and I walked towards the north ones. Another overview session with Mr. Barnes and the rest of the directors was the last thing I wanted to do today. No one ever had anything remotely interesting to discuss in those meetings. It usually just entailed Mr. Barnes spewing out brainstorming ideas until Bob from demographic research fell asleep and banged his head on the table—everyone’s cue that another dreadful meeting was over. I took my place at the glass conference table and sat down. “Good afternoon, everyone!” Mr. Barnes seemed extremely chipper today. “As usual, we have some very important ventures and promotional plans we need to discuss. But, before we get into that, I want to introduce you to someone who has never visited us before...All the way from the fiftieth floor, founding member and CEO Jonathan Statham!” Everyone stood and clapped as he walked into the room. I gave a soft clap and was about to begin my standard “tuning everything out” routine, until I noticed that all the female directors were salivating—yes, salivating, at whoever had walked through those doors. I turned my head to the left and saw that the “Jonathan” I’d met at the grocery store last week was the Jonathan Statham. My jaw dropped as I looked him over. He was even sexier in his navy blue suit. He’d shaved his stubble and his dark sleek hair was combed off his face —not a single strand was out of place. His eyes were gleaming in a seductive hue of blue, and I couldn’t take my eyes off his lips...or that smile... He nodded his head at each and every one of us, raising his eyebrow once his eyes found mine. His lips curved into a wry smile and he began to speak. “It’s an honor to be at your meeting today. With over four thousand employees, it’s hard to know everyone, but this year I want to make myself more transparent, more available.” His eyes met mine again. “I’m sorry I don’t tell you how much I value you every day, but I really do,” he continued. “As you know, we’re going through a restructuring phase. We’re going to be shaking a few things up over the coming weeks by hiring new talent. Not to worry though, no one is losing a job. We’re about

to sign four major clients and we want to make sure our marketing team is as strong as it can possibly be.” Just fire everyone and start over if that’s the case... “I’ll turn things back over to you now, Mr. Barnes.” Jonathan walked around the table and took a seat directly across from me. The art director who was sitting next to him blushed bright pink. Everyone was on their best behavior for a change. People were participating in the brainstorming session and contributing ideas instead of scrolling away on their phones or looking out the windows. I contributed whenever I was called, and couldn’t help but notice that Jonathan was watching my every move. Occasionally, he would redirect his focus to the projector screen or on whoever was speaking, but his piercing blue eyes always found their way back to me. Why is he staring at me? And why is he making it so damn obvious? I answered another question about our latest ad campaign and caught Jonathan winking at me as he poured himself a glass of water. I tried to look away from him, but it was too damn hard. He was too damn sexy. I was glad I’d perfected the poker face a few years ago; I was a master at looking unaffected. Maybe Sandra’s right. Maybe I can date him and at least get some good sex out of it. I haven’t had sex in a long time. A very long time...Wait, is four years really that long of a time? “Miss Gracen?” Mr. Barnes interrupted my thought-fest. “Yes?” “Are you still willing to work as team coordinator rather than going to the company’s IPO ball this summer? You sure you want to gift your ticket to an intern?” Jonathan tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at me. “Yes, Mr. Barnes.” I swiveled my chair around. “I don’t want to go. I think we should gift it to the intern that works the hardest over the next few months.” “Excellent idea!” He began to say other things and I made a conscious effort to keep my eyes glued on the presentation. I looked at my watch every five seconds, hoping the meeting would come to an end so I could jump up and leave. I thought that there had to be something wrong with me. I couldn’t believe I was actually fantasizing about a man who was eleven years younger than me. “Miss Gracen, did you bring that segment data with you?” Mr. Barnes intruded my thoughts again. “Did you include the latest prototype research?” Could you please end this fucking meeting?! “Yes.” I held up a blue folder. “Great! Could you give that to Mr. Statham please? And how about you, Mrs. Turner? Did you happen to find out if—” I tuned him out. I wanted to jump across the table and thrash him for dragging this meeting on longer than necessary, pretending like we actually did anything productive just because we were in front of the CEO. I turned my chair around and saw Jonathan beaming at me with his hand outstretched. I didn’t bother placing the folder into his hand—I didn’t want any bodily contact between us, especially not with that panty-dropper smile of his. I slid it across the table and turned back around. The meeting came to an end an hour later, without Bob’s head bang as a gavel, and everyone made a move for the door. I leapt out of my chair and squeezed between Mr. Barnes and the regional director. I was about to step outside the room when Jonathan grabbed my hand, causing a sudden shock of electricity to ripple

through me. He must have felt it too because he immediately let my hand go. “May I please have a word with you, Miss Gracen?” he asked. “Sure, Mr. Statham...” I moved to the other side of the room. He waited for the last director to leave the room and shut the door before walking over to me. “How long have you been working here, Miss Gracen?” He placed subtle emphasis on the word ‘Miss’ and smiled. “About four years.” “Hmmm. I can’t believe I’m just now finding you.” He rubbed his chin. “Do you like it?” There has to be a better word than “sexy” to describe you... “Do I like what?” “Your job, this company.” “You want me to be completely honest?” “That would be nice.” “I absolutely hate it here, but the offices are decorated quite nicely. The interior designers did one hell of a job.” “Good to know.” He laughed. “I take it that since you haven’t called, you’re not interested in going out with me?” I nodded weakly. “Clearly.” “May I ask why, Miss Gracen?” He needs to stop saying my name like that... “There are several reasons why.” “Name the best ones.” He stepped in front of me and looked deep into my eyes. “But your age and the fact that you have kids aren’t good enough reasons for me.” Poker face...Poker face... “Well, as I’m sure you already know, it’s against company policy.” “I can have that rewritten by the end of the week.” “It’s also completely immoral and highly inappropriate.” “That’s...debatable.” He reached out and pushed a strand of hair away from my face. “Is that all?” I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t say anything. I was too busy getting lost in his incredible eyes. I realized that they weren’t entirely blue; his irises were outlined in a wispy cloud of charcoal gray and there were speckles of emerald green gleaming within them. “Miss Gracen? Are there any other excuses?” He inched even closer to me, slightly rubbing his nose against mine. Why am I so turned on right now? I shouldn’t be feeling this way...He’s way too young for me, way too young for me... “I’m not attracted to you.” He raised his eyebrow. “Oh really?” “Yes. Really.” “Hmmm. Well, I guess that is a good enough reason.” He looked at his watch. “I have another meeting to go to...” He stepped away from me. “It was nice running into you again. I’ll see you around?” “I guess so.” I nodded and watched him leave the room.

I wrote a few notes in my “Zen” journal and sighed. “I love my job....I love my job...” Nope. Still not working...

No matter how many times I said it aloud, I still hated my job. With an undying passion. I went through another stack of proposal campaigns and tossed them all into my “No way in hell” pile. My associates were really starting to annoy me. All their recent ideas were more terrible than usual; it was like they weren’t even trying. I started typing yet another inspirational email to invigorate them, to inspire them to think of something that didn’t suck, but an email flagged as “important” popped up on my screen.

From: Statham, Jonathan To: Gracen, Claire Subject: Employee Relations Date: January 8, 2013 2:30 PM Miss Gracen, I know you rejected my earlier proposal, but there are a few things I would like to discuss with you. Would you happen to have any free time this Friday evening? Statham Industries CEO, Jonathan Statham

From Gracen, Claire To: Statham, Jonathan Subject: Re: Employee Relations Date: January 8, 2013 2:35 PM Mr. Statham, Once 5:00 pm arrives on Friday, I will have no desire to discuss anything related to Statham Industries, especially since I am paid by the hour and overtime is strictly forbidden. The next hour that I will be available to discuss these so called “employee relations” will be Monday morning. At 8:00. Please make an appointment with my secretary, Executive Marketing Director, Claire Gracen

I hit send and shut down my computer. I walked over to my wall calendar, sighing at the date that was circled, and crossed off yesterday’s date with a red marker. Four more days ‘til the big 4-0... “Miss Gracen!” Mr. Barnes rushed into my office. “Is there any chance you could run our latest board up to the art department? The other directors and I have just been called into an emergency strategy meeting with Mr. Statham.” What! Why wasn’t I called? Is he going to blackball my career because I turned him down? How immature... As if he’d read my mind, he gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sure they’re not letting you go...I’d put up a hell of a fight to get you to stay.” “Thanks.” I stood up and took the board from his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! We can’t use this!” “What? Why not?” “Are you kidding me? This is racist!” “How so?”

I sighed. This was yet another reason why I hated working here. We were supposed to be coming up with ways to market the new “sPhone Blue” but my department had missed the mark, once again: On the board was a picture of a cotton field, but instead of cotton blooms growing atop the plants, there were sPhones. There were slaves with baskets at their hips, smiling widely as they “picked” the crop. At the bottom of the picture were the words: “Bring back the good old days, the new sPhone Blue.” “With all due respect, Mr. Barnes, I’m not taking this shit up there. We need to come up with something else.” “Fine.” He snatched the board back. “Well, at least go get the boards back from yesterday. I’ll come get them from you after the emergency meeting.” He definitely stressed the word ‘meeting’ to irk me since I wasn’t invited. As soon as he left my office, I headed for the elevators. I told myself that after I picked up the artwork, I would take a second lunch break since the other directors were more important than I was. Five more years and I can quit....Only five more years... I boarded an empty elevator and hit thirty, but it went down to the basement. Then it went to level two. Then it went to level four. I was about to step off and try another elevator, but Jonathan Statham stepped on. Every nerve in my body ran wild. My heart started fluttering against my chest—I could literally hear it, and tingles started crawling up and down my spine. He turned around and smiled at me, and like a teenage girl with a high school crush, I turned away from him. I didn’t want him to know that he was affecting me. I kept my eyes focused on the golden buttons that lit up as we passed every floor: Ten...Eleven...Twelve... The elevator came to a sudden halt. I looked over and realized he’d hit the stop button. “Your reason for not going out with me doesn’t make any sense.” He turned around to face me. “Tell me the truth.” “Please do yourself a favor and move on with your life, Mr. Statham. I’m sure you have far more important things to do than harass a mid-level employee. I told you that I’m not attracted to you.” “And I think you’re lying.” He stepped closer. “You are attracted to me.” I’m well aware... “Are you normally this cocky? Surely you can accept the fact that I’m just not attracted to boys.” “Boys?” His eyes hardened. “Yes...” My breath hitched. “That would make me a pedophile.” “Going out with me would make you a pedophile?” “Going out with you would make my life a little more complicated than I need it to be. You clearly can’t handle rejection, probably lack emotional maturity, and are definitely more compatible with some vapid twenty year old who still doesn’t know the difference between emotions and—” He pushed me against the wall and kissed me—forcing my lips apart, trying to control my tongue with his. I tried to push him away, tried to shut my lips back together and act like this wasn’t turning me on, but once I felt his arms slipping around my waist, I slowly gave in and kissed him back. I pressed myself back against him, stifling a moan as he bit my bottom lip, as he pinned me against the wall with his hips. “Wait...Stop...” I pulled away from him. “I should get back to work.” “Tell me the truth.” He stepped back. “Tell me that you do want to go out with me.” “Maybe I do, but...”

“Pick the place.” “I’m not sure if that would be very appropri—” He pulled me back into his arms and kissed me harder than before, leaving me utterly breathless. “Pick. The. Place.” “I...” I sucked in a breath. “I can’t go on Friday...What about Saturday?” “Why can’t you go out on Friday?” He tightened his arms around me. “It’s my birthday...My friends have a table reserved for me at Havana.” “Interesting. Can I come?” What? Why? “If you want to...Sure...” “Okay.” He released me and hit the start button. “I’ll see you Friday. We can discuss our date for Saturday then.” He kept his eyes on me as he moved to the other side of the elevator. I leaned against the wall and inhaled several times to bring my breathing back to normal. “I know you don’t work in HR or anything, but I was the only director who wasn’t invited to the mock-up meeting this afternoon. You said no one was losing their job but...Am I being let go? Are you trying to soften the blow by being nice to me during my last week here?” “What? Why would you even think—Of course not.” He laughed. “How else was I supposed to get you alone?” The doors opened on twenty four and he stepped off. “Oh, and Miss Gracen?” He turned around and held the doors open. “Before I forget...When you were thirty and expanding your marketing career, I was nineteen, but I wasn’t picking out my major. I was dropping out and starting my own software company, the very company you hate working for today.” He moved his hands from the doors and they closed on his seductive smile. I went back down to my office and changed my panties in the bathroom for the second time this week. I knew my stash of emergency panties would come in handy at some point, but I was thinking more along the lines of wasting coffee on my pants, not getting aroused as soon as I looked at Jonathan Statham. This is not good...This is not good...

Chapter 4 Jonathan I walked into human resources and pulled Claire’s file. Her resume was impeccable. She had a Business degree from the University of Pittsburgh, a master ’s in marketing from Carnegie Mellon, and she’d worked on several high profile ad campaigns—Ralph Lauren, Versace, Microsoft, Google. Before coming to work for me, she’d spent four years directing projects at Cole and Hillman Associates in Pittsburgh, the largest advertising firm on the East Coast. Why would she ever leave there to come here? Her position here is a major downgrade from that...She’s probably only being paid half of what she used to make... I took the elevator to my floor and sighed. Even though her birthdate was clearly marked on all her files, I couldn’t believe she was about to turn forty. She didn’t look forty. At all. Not that I gave a damn; I actually found it quite funny that she thought her age would be a problem. “Mr. Statham?” My secretary looked up as soon as I walked by her desk. “I have something for you.” She handed me a card: Jonathan, I’m sure you noticed that I wasn’t at the board meeting today and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m going to Paris for a while to do some serious wedding planning with my best friend, Joanna— remember her? She’s the one who said you and I would make a cute couple at last year’s charity ball :) Anyway, I was doing some thinking, and if I need to vacate my seat on the board for you to give us a chance, I will definitely consider it. I’ll be thinking about you while I’m away. Hope you’ll be thinking of me, Vanessa. I hadn’t noticed she was absent from the meeting and I was pretty sure I never alluded to the possibility of she and I having a chance to be together. I’d lost count of how many times I told her that I only saw her as a friend, nothing more. I unlocked the door to my office and hit the lights. Tossing my jacket on the couch, I lay down and prepared to take a nap, but I saw my ex-girlfriend sitting at my desk. “Audrey?” I sat up. “What are you doing? How did you get in here?” I thought I had you banned for life... “I wanted to talk to you.” “About?” “Us...” “There is no us. There hasn’t been an ‘us’ in over a year.” “Just hear me out please.” She motioned for me to sit in front of my desk. I sighed. I pushed a panel in my wall and took out a bottle of bourbon. I poured myself a tall glass and offered her a bottle of water before sitting down. “Go ahead.” I tried not to sound annoyed. “I’m listening.” “Well, I was doing some thinking the other day. Do you remember how we talked about marriage a few times?”

“We broke up a year ago. I don’t keep a listed file about every conversation we had.” She leaned forward in the chair and bit her lip. “It was going to work out perfectly because our careers were set, neither of us wanted children, and we wanted to travel the world every year once we tied the knot...” She started unbuttoning her jacket. “You don’t remember any of that?” “No.” “Well, I do. You and I were pretty serious at one point and then we just fell apart...” “Was this before or after you called all my ex-girlfriends? Before or after you lied about being pregnant and dragged me to a fake doctor?” She slid her jacket off, revealing that she was wearing nothing underneath it but a lacy pink bra. Before I could stand up, she’d walked around the desk, showing off the matching panties. “Audrey...” I felt no attraction whatsoever. “Please get dressed. I don’t have time for this.” “You know you don’t want me to put on any clothes, Jonathan...Make love to me. Right here. Right now. We never did get the chance to have sex in your office.” A year ago, I would’ve gladly given in and fucked her in front of my floor to ceiling windows, but I was over her and her silly little games. She’d been the source of way too much drama in my life and I didn’t want that anymore. “Put your clothes on or I’ll have security come and take you away in what you’re wearing right now.” She slid her panties off. “But you told me to show up here wearing this! You said you wanted to talk about us getting back together!” “What? What are you talking about?” And what is that red dot blinking on my bookshelf? Is she RECORDING this? “I know you want me back, Jonathan, but you have to change.” She suddenly sounded hurt. “Just admit to your mistakes, apologize, and we can get back together...I’ve finally forgiven you for hitting me on Christmas Day and giving me a black eye...and bruising my ribs...And I know you didn’t want me to go to the press about it so if you’d rather pay for me to— ” “Okay.” I walked over to the red blinking thing—a miniature pen recorder, and tossed it out the window. “I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull, but you know damn well I never hit you. Ever. Whatever we had was fun while it lasted, but that’s pretty much all it was before you turned into a psycho. Please get out of my office.” She started crying. “I said I was sorry! I thought you were cheating on me when I set your Aston Martin on fire!” I can’t believe I almost forgot about that... I walked behind my desk and moved her crumpled clothes off my chair. “And I apologized for calling all your exes! I needed to know if you were still talking to them! I needed to know that you were really mine!” I handed her the clothes and sat down. “You’ve got one minute, Audrey. Get dressed before I call security.” “I still think you and I could work out! I know you still want me!” I picked up my phone. “Greg, I need security to come and escort someone out of my office as soon as possible.” “The sex was incredible! Remember? We could go on for hours and hours!” She slid into her jeans and put on her jacket. “You can’t say you don’t miss that! Why don’t you want me back?” There was a knock at my door. “Come in!” I called. Two security guards walked in and looked at me, then at Audrey. She immediately stopped crying, like she always did whenever there was an unexpected audience.

“I don’t need any assistance walking down the steps!” She laughed. “Thanks for calling for back up though. My knees are fine, Jonathan!” “You really should pursue acting Audrey.” I shook my head. “You would be great at it. Could you two please escort Miss Greene out to the parking lot and make sure to take her name off the approved visitors list?” “Yes sir.” They motioned for her to leave the room first. Audrey looked back at me and scowled. “I don’t want you back anyway, you sucked in bed! You couldn’t keep your dick up for more than a minute!” Jesus... The door slammed shut and I leaned back in my chair. Maybe I need to date someone older...Someone more mature...

On Thursday, I stayed late working on the marketing department’s reconstruction plan. I wasn’t sure why Claire hated her job so much, but if the ideas her department submitted for the sPhone blue were any indication, I would probably hate working here too. Their submissions were awful, god awful: “The new sPhone blue: Just blue it,” “The new sPhone blue. Yeah, it’s blue,” and “The new sPhone blue: Buy it. Ask questions later.” There is no way “adults” came up with this nonsense... I shut the folder and decided to call it a day. We were definitely going to have to hire new talent. Soon. I took the elevator down to the executive lot and slid into my Bugatti. Shifting gears, I prepared to speed all the way home, but I saw Claire arguing with a tow truck driver on the other side of the lot. Just as I pulled over, he drove off with what I assumed was her SUV. “Claire?” I stepped out of my car, eyeing the way her black skirt hugged her hips, the way her emerald green blouse exposed just the right amount of cleavage. She looked at me and shook her head. “This is a perfect example of why I hate working here. Is it really necessary to tow your own employees’ cars if they stay over late? Is that really the best way to discourage over-time? How about just shutting off the damn time clock at the end of the day?” She walked past me and sat on a bench. She pulled out her phone and groaned. “Yes...I need a cab at Statham Industries. 130 Jennifer Drive...I’m going to Joe’s Car Tow on Jefferson Street. Yes...No...Yes, I’ll hold.” “Hey.” I sat down next to her. “I’m sorry about your car. Let me take you to get it.” “No thanks. I can handle this by myself. I’m pretty sure this was a sign for me to start looking for a new job.” “No, I’m pretty sure it was a sign for you not to park your car in the ‘nine to five only’ zone.” Her jaw dropped and she narrowed her eyes at me. “It was a joke.” I smiled. “Lighten up. I’ll take you there. It’ll save you money and the forty minute wait.” “Thank you once again, but I’ll be fine. Have a great Thursday, Mr. Statham.” She turned away from me and spoke into her phone. “Yes...By credit card. Yes. I’m ready now.” She pulled out her credit card. “It’s a VISA and the number is three, zero, one, seven, eight, one—” I took the card out of her hand and walked to my car. I fastened my seat belt and heard her tapping on my window seconds later. I rolled it down and raised my eyebrow. “I know it may be difficult for you,” she said, crossing her arms, “but could you please act like a mature adult and give me my credit card back? They won’t pick me up unless they have the full

number.” “The quicker you get in, the quicker we can get your car.” She took a deep breath and glared at me. “I’m going to ask you one more time to give me my credit card...Please give me my credit card back, Mr. Statham. Now.” “Get in the car, Claire.” “I told you no.” She held her hand out. “Please be a gentleman.” “You’re right. Where are my manners?” I stepped out of the car and walked around to the passenger ’s side, opening the door for her. When she didn’t make a move, I lifted her into my arms and carried her over to her seat, ignoring her exaggerated sighs. I let my fingers linger against her body for a few seconds longer than necessary, reveling in the feel of her soft skin. I shut her door and walked back over to my side of the car, revving it up before she could decide to get out. “Put your seatbelt on.” I clicked mine into place. “Claire?” I reached over her shoulder and buckled her strap for her, resisting the urge to snap off her shirt. Ignoring the intense glare she was giving me, I sped off towards the highway. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Statham.” She cleared her throat twenty minutes into the ride. “Thank you for accepting it. Am I de-invited to your birthday party now?” “No.” She looked out her window. “You can still come if you want.” I was coming regardless... “Good. How was your day at work?” “Wonderful. As it always is, Mr. Statham.” I turned off at the next exit. “Please call me Jonathan.” “I prefer Mr. Statham. It helps me keep in mind why I will never go out with you.” I laughed. “I love a woman with a sense of humor.” I pulled into the towing lot and parked right outside the holding office. Claire hastily unbuckled her seat-belt, but I reached over and put my hand over hers. “Wait here. I’ll have them pull it out front for you. It’s the least I can do.” I walked inside the small building and the receptionist blushed. “How can I help you today, sir?” “I’m here to retrieve a car that was towed about a half hour ago from Jennifer Drive. It’s a light gray—” “Audi Q7?” She pulled a folder from the shelf above her desk. “My records say it was parked in a zone without a proper parking pass. Statham Industries must be an awful place to work, huh? We tow at least ten cars a day from there.” “Yes, it’s a horrible place. How much to get the car out?” “Three hundred and fifty dollars.” That’s ridiculous...Do my employees really have to pay that much every time? I handed her my credit card and she had me fill out a few pages of paperwork. “I’ll have it brought out in a second.” She disappeared. When I walked back outside, Claire was leaning against the hood of my car with her arms folded above her head. Images of her lying like that in my bed, on my shower bench, and on my yacht quickly flashed through my mind. The things I would do to her... “How much do I owe you?” She sat up, frowning. “Nothing, except our date that we’ll be discussing at your birthday party.” “I don’t think so. I’m fine with you coming to my birthday party, but after what happened today, I’m not going out with you.” She suppressed a smile. “I mean it.”

“We’ll discuss it on Friday.” Out the corner of my eye, I saw her car rolling through the lot. As it moved closer, I heard a strange popping sound and then I saw the problem: Both of her back tires were shredded; they looked like rubber shingles. “Are you kidding me?” She rushed over as a scruffy guy stepped out of her car. “Why do my tires look like that? They were perfectly fine thirty minutes ago!” He shrugged and tossed her the keys. “I just pull the cars around. I don’t ask questions ma’am.” “How am I supposed to get home in this?” She was fuming now, and I could tell she was trying her best not to slap him. “Why would you deliberately slash my tires? Towing the car wasn’t enough?” “Well ma’am, we do sell tires here if you’re interested. We currently have a free installation promotion if you buy—” “Shut the fuck up.” She shook her head. “And get away from me. Right now.” He backed away from her with his hands raised in defeat. He pulled a “tire sale” flyer from his pocket and slipped it to me before disappearing. “I’m sorry about your car—again.” I waited for her to look at me. “I didn’t know that they—” “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just remember not to park my car in the ‘nine to five only’ zone from now on. Are you going to prevent me from calling a cab this time too?” “Why don’t you drive my car home? I’ll have yours taken to a body shop and have it back at corporate for you tomorrow.” “What?” She looked confused. “You’re offering to let me drive your—” She looked over at my car and shrugged. “What type of car is that?” I smiled. “It’s a Bugatti.” “Right. And you’re taking my car to a body shop? What’s the catch? You think doing that will make me go out with you?” “No catch. I think you’ve suffered enough disappointment for one day. That’s all.” She studied me for a minute, looking into my eyes as if she were contemplating my offer. “I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything because of this...I’ll just call one of my friends to come get me. I’m sure—” “There’s no catch, Claire. I’m just trying to be nice to you. Can you let me be nice to you?” She still looked unsure, but she nodded. “Good. Park it in lot eight tomorrow morning and leave the keys inside. I’ll park yours in lot nine and leave your keys with security.” She grabbed a few things from her car and handed me the keys. “You sure you’re okay with letting me drive your car? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to drive me home?” “As much as I would like to take you home, Claire...” I smiled. “I’m sure you probably think that would be inappropriate.” She blushed. “You’re exactly right.” She slipped inside the driver ’s seat, locking her eyes on mine for a few seconds before finally driving off. I pulled out my phone. “Greg? Yes. I’m at 3465 Jefferson Street. I need a tow truck and a town car...And could you get Mr. Lane from Parking Security to call me within five minutes? I need to make an immediate change to the employee parking policy.” I watched my Bugatti ease onto the interstate ramp from afar and sighed. I’ve never let anyone drive that car...

Chapter 5 Claire I woke up on my fortieth birthday feeling no different than the day before. There was no “ahamoment,” no feeling of dread, no sense of uneasiness. Nothing. I rushed to the mirror to make sure Mother Nature hadn’t decided to throw wrinkles and creases on my face all at once—to make sure she wasn’t trying to play some cruel joke on me. She didn’t, and she wasn’t. I prepared for work like I always did, trying my best not to think about how sexy Jonathan Statham was or about his sleek black Bugatti that was parked right outside. I slipped into my favorite white dress and matching blazer; I’d always admired how the ruffles flattered my curves and made my waist look two sizes smaller. I read the birthday cards my daughters left on the kitchen table and rejoiced at the fact that they’d bought a cake from the store instead of attempting to bake one. I was sure I would never get the chance to drive a Bugatti again, so I took the long way to work. I coasted through the residential neighborhoods, cruised past a few parks, and circled around corporate five times before pulling into the executive lot. “Miss Gracen?” My assistant Rita met me as soon as I walked inside the doors. “Yes?” “First off, Happy Birthday! Second off, the Klein brothers specifically requested you to lead the ad project for their new eco-tablets. Should I tell them you’ll be available to do that?” “Yes. That’s fine.” “Great.” She scribbled a few things on her pad and struggled to keep up with my walking pace. “Mr. Barnes is out sick today; his wife called from the hospital. That leaves you to work with the beta script team this afternoon.” Perfect... “Anything else?” I pushed the door to my office open. She and I both gasped. My office was filled with bouquets of calla lilies and roses, with white and pink balloons that completely covered my wall of windows. Wow... “I’m not sure when all this got here...” She scratched her head. “Anyway, I need your notes on this year ’s proposed budget as soon as possible, and Mr. Statham booked a thirty minute meeting with you at eleven o’ clock.” “What? What was that last thing you said?” “Mr. Statham wants to meet with you at eleven o’ clock—in his office.” About what? “Is that all?” “No,” she said. She pulled a small pink card off her clipboard. “Happy Birthday again, Miss Gracen. You’re way better than the last director I worked for. I really mean that.” “Thank you, Rita.” I moved a vase of lilies from my chair and flipped open the silver card that sat on top. Claire,

I hope you’re enjoying your birthday. I’m looking forward to spending part of it with you tonight. —Your completely immoral and highly inappropriate Boss, PS: You’ve looked stunning every day this week... I was flattered but I didn’t have time to wonder about why he’d sent so many flowers, and I knew I wouldn’t have time to meet with him; I had too much work to do. From eight o’ clock to nine o’clock, I made sure everyone in the department was on task and supervised the interns’ brainstorming meeting. I even managed to spare a few extra minutes to get ahead on some of Mr. Barnes’ past due assignments. From nine o’clock to ten o’ clock, I conferred with the art directors about “sPhone blue” visuals, sat in on a conference call with the national marketing committee, and started reading the proposed expense reports for our eco-tablet campaign. At ten fifty five, my phone rang. “Claire Gracen. Who am I speaking with?” “Miss Gracen, this is Angela, Mr. Statham’s secretary. I’m looking at his schedule and I see that he requested a meeting with you today. Are you on your way up?” I have two hundred pages to read... “No, Angela.” I flipped over a sheet of paper. “I am not. Could you please inform Mr. Statham that while I do accept last minute appointments from clients, all internal personnel—even my own superiors, have to schedule their appointments at least twenty four hours in advance. That’s company policy as of sixty days ago. He’s the one who sent out the memo, so he should know that.” The line went silent. I was sure not too many people rejected a meeting with the CEO. “I um...” She coughed. “I will let him know that, Miss Gracen. Have a great day.” “You too.” I hung up. I continued looking over the expense reports, making small notes here or there. I was halfway done when I heard a knock at my door. “I don’t want anything for lunch, Rita! Thank you though!” The door opened and in walked Jonathan. He smiled as he shut the door. “Good morning, Miss Gracen.” “Hello, Mr. Statham...” My mouth went dry and my body tensed at the sight of him. He really was a pure example of what a perfect man should look like. He was dressed in an impeccable black suit with a white button-down shirt, and shiny silver cufflinks that gleamed against the light. His eyes were regarding me intensely, and I knew that he was slightly running his tongue across his lips on purpose. He sat down in the seat across from my desk and smiled even wider. “How are you today?” “I’m quite fine, and yourself?” “Pretty good. You know, I don’t normally get scolded by an employee, but it’s refreshing to know that there are other policies that need to be changed.” I didn’t say anything. My heart was beating too fast and I didn’t want him to sense that I was completely captivated by him. Think about his age...Think about his age... He put his elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “You couldn’t spare thirty minutes for me?” Take a deep breath, avert your gaze to the wall behind him, and clear your throat... “Mr. Statham—” “You really don’t have to call me that when we’re alone.” My breath hitched at the way he’d said “alone” and I took another deep breath.

“I feel more comfortable calling you that since this is, and will always be, a strictly professional relationship. And no, I could not spare thirty minutes. Our head director called in sick today, and since I have to handle his reports as well as my own, I don’t have much free time.” “Fair enough,” he said as he looked into my eyes. “I just wanted to personally return your car keys.” He placed them on my desk. “And tell you Happy Birthday in person.” “Well, thank you very much and I appreciate all the flowers. Your spiel only took three seconds though, so there was no need for a thirty minute time slot. If you don’t mind, I need to finish my reading now. Have a great day, Mr. Statham.” I looked back down at my work, hoping he would say “You too” and leave my office, but I sensed him standing up and walking over to me. I tried my best to act like he wasn’t in the room, to stay focused on the document I was reading, but I felt him hovering right behind my shoulder. “Claire...” I slowly turned my head and looked up at him. “Yes?” He was silent. He reached down and ran his fingers through my hair—slowly and gently, making my heart beat ten times faster. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me—tilting my chin up so my lips could touch his, using his other hand to caress my neck, but then he suddenly stopped. He stepped back and sighed. “What time does your birthday party start tonight?” “Nine...” I could barely hear my own voice. “Well, I have a last minute meeting tonight so I might be really late. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” Silence. I looked into his eyes and he looked back into mine. There was palpable tension in the air and I wanted him to slice through it. I wanted him to step back over and kiss me until I was out of breath, to rip my clothes off and— His cell phone started to ring, breaking us out of the spell. “Hello?” he answered, keeping his eyes on me. “Yeah...by noon on Monday. Okay...Okay, I’ll be right there.” He headed for the door. “I’ll see you tonight?” “Yes...” I waited until the door closed and slipped out of my chair.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror at Havana and tugged at the end of my dress. It was a red haltered dress that ended near the middle of my thighs and accentuated my breasts—the type of dress I would prevent my daughters from wearing until they were twenty one. “You don’t think this makes it look like I’m trying too hard, Sands?” I turned around and frowned at the low deep cut in the back. “This is a bit revealing...” “Trying too hard to do what? You look good, Claire! If I had your legs, I would show them off all the time. Is your boss still coming?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. He said he had a late meeting.” “Well, I hope he comes. I have to see the man that makes you blush.” “He does not make me blush!” Sandra pursed her lips and gave me her “whatever you say” look. It still shocked me that she’d never found someone to settle down with. She was pretty, had her own practice, and seemed to charm every man she met. Unlike me, she’d embraced her age—forty one, and swore that she’d rather be forty than twenty any day. “Are we going to stand in here all day, Claire? You know Helen can only sit by herself for so long.”

“Right.” I looked myself over one last time and followed her back out into the lounge. We walked over to our reserved table, but Helen wasn’t there. A man in a white tuxedo stepped in front of us. “Are you ladies a part of Claire Gracen’s party?” “Yes. I’m Claire Gracen,” I said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gracen. Come with me.” He smiled. “We’re sorry we didn’t upgrade your table as soon as you arrived. Please forgive us.” I shrugged my shoulders at Sandra and followed the man onto a glass elevator, up to the balcony level that overlooked the marble stoned dance floor. He led us over to a luxurious VIP table in a corner where Helen was downing a Cosmo and smiling. “I told you two not to spend that much money for my birthday.” I sat down, looking back and forth between her and Sandra. “Why would you—” “You think either of us would spend thousands of dollars on a VIP table for one night?” Helen scoffed. “I think they mixed your name up with someone else’s, but I’m going to drink as much as I can before they figure that out.” “Me too!” Sandra picked up a glass. “Cheers to Claire for finally joining the forty club! The best club there is!” We clinked our glasses together and laughed. As we talked, the waiters continued refilling our glasses and bringing over trays of delicious h’ordeuvres—insisting that we try out the exotic specials that were only available at the bar across the room. I kept asking them about the price of the drinks and the amount of the tab, hoping it wouldn’t be too much at the end of the night. Yet, each time I asked, they would laugh and say, “Don’t worry. It’s been more than taken care of.” “So, last week I had sex at the zoo.” Helen put down her drink. “I think I could have lived without that one. I’m not sure if being pounded right in front of the giraffe exhibit was as exciting as I thought it would be.” I spluttered my drink back into the glass. “Could we not talk about your sex life for one day? Just one?” “Oh Claire honey, what’s wrong? Are you still suffering from ‘dick withdrawal syndrome’? It’s okay. It only lasts for as long as you let it last. Although you should know that you’re currently in your sexual prime. Seeing as though you haven’t had sex since—God, I can’t even think back that far so—” “Okay, Helen. You’ve made your point.” I sighed. “Tell us the damn story.” “Gladly.” I sat and listened as Helen went into detail—way into detail, about how she and some associate of hers had snuck into the zoo after hours and had sex on the bench right in front of the Desert Animals exhibit. I wasn’t sure what part I should’ve been more appalled at—the fact that she actually had late night sex in a zoo, or the fact that the animals walked over to the fence to watch. “Oh my god!” Sandra’s jaw dropped. “Don’t immediately look behind you, but the sexiest man I’ve ever seen just got off the elevator. He looks really important...I wonder if he’s a celebrity.” I noticed the women at the table behind us gasping and whispering, so I slowly turned around to see who they were talking about: Jonathan. He was nodding his head as the manager handed him a business card. He shook the man’s hand as he looked towards our table. Our eyes met and my heart sped up; my nerves were running uncontrollably and my body felt like it was on fire.

I turned back towards Sandra. “That’s him,” I whispered. “Him who?” “Good evening, Claire.” Jonathan was at my side seconds later. “Good evening, Jonathan...” I swallowed and felt myself blushing. “Umm, this is Sandra and this is Helen.” “Good evening, ladies.” He smiled. “Good evening.” They both practically swooned. “Am I the only guy here?” He looked down at me. “Yes...” “Okay. I’ll be right back.” He walked over to the bar, and once he was out of earshot, Sandra slapped my shoulder. “That’s your boss? Your description didn’t do him justice at all! Screw the age thing, Claire, he’s sexy as hell.” “Is he single?” Helen eyed him. “He’s taken.” Sandra wagged her finger. “Claire’s dating him.” I’m not dating him! “Well, about time! Welcome to Cougar-town!” Helen laughed and took a long swig of her drink. On any other night, I would’ve replied to her silly little remark, but it was my birthday and I didn’t feel like letting her get to me. Besides, I wasn’t a real “cougar,” she was. She hardly ever dated anyone her own age. The oldest boyfriend she’d ever had was twelve years younger than her—when she was thirty five. “Screw you, Helen.” Sandra rolled her eyes. “You better not say anything ridiculous when he gets back over here.” Helen made a “scouts honor” symbol with her fingers, and as if on cue, Jonathan walked back over to the table with a tray of exotic drinks. “Cheers to the birthday girl?” He smiled. We all nodded and tossed back a shot. He slid into the chair next to me and placed his hand on my thigh. I immediately felt myself getting hot, so I brushed his hand away and crossed my legs. Why did I let Sandra talk me into going commando tonight? “So Jonathan...” Helen purred. “What exactly do you do for a living?” She knows the answer to this already...Why is she asking him that? Jonathan put his hand back on my thigh. “I’m the CEO of Statham Industries. And yourself?” “Interesting! I’m a lawyer at my own law firm, Donovan and Fitz. It’s actually one mile away from your company. How did you become the CEO at such a young age?” “I started the company when I was still in college. It was just a side thing at first—charging people twenty or thirty bucks here or there to install all types of systems on their phones or laptops, but then I realized that I could build phones and computers from scratch; that I could do a much better job than some of the bigger computer companies. So, my professor helped me to write up a business plan and I showed off the best products I’d developed. Then I got a few investors and professors on board with the condition that I would be the CEO and the company’s namesake. I made a profit the very first year and the rest is history.” Wow... “Very impressive.” Helen nodded. “It must be a pretty hectic life. What do you do in your free time, and why aren’t you married already? I’m sure someone like you has lots of beautiful options to choose from.” What the hell is she doing?!

I was glaring at her, silently begging her to stop making him uncomfortable, but he didn’t look the slightest bit bothered by her insane questioning. He looked calm and in control. He began strumming my thigh with his fingertips. “I work out, travel, and collect yachts in my spare time.” Did he just say “yachts”? As in plural? “And the reason you’re not married yet is because? Are you too rich to be tied down? Having too much fun sleeping with a different woman every night?” God, please strike her down now... Sandra was giving Helen the most evil side-glare in history. It looked like she was about to claw her eyes out. “No...” He smiled. “That’s definitely not it. I guess I haven’t found the right woman yet.” “Okay, I’m going to the bar to get a stronger drink.” Sandra shook her head. “I’ll get it for you.” Jonathan released my thigh and stood up. “A stronger version of what you had before?” Sandra nodded. “Helen, you too?” “Yes.” She batted her eyes. “Claire?” He smiled his dreamy smile and I lost my words. I shook my head and he walked away. “Helen! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sandra fumed. “I told you not to—” “Calm down, calm down.” Helen snorted. “I was just having fun. He’s clearly into Claire. He’s been eye fucking her all night.” “Helen!” I shook my head. “Don’t Helen me! It’s the truth. He’s eye fucking you right now, from all the way over there. And you’ve been doing it too so get over yourself. You two should just get it over with. The private bathrooms here are really nice. Hint, hint.” I burst into laughter. I should’ve known Helen was only toying with him. She too often took pleasure in testing the threshold of people’s nerves. Jonathan walked back over and set down more drinks. “Golden Paradise for you Sandra.” He slid it across the table. “Triple chocolate cloud for you, Helen. And for you,” he said as he reached for my hand, “would you like to dance with me?” “Sure.” I slid out of my chair and clasped his hand. He led me down two sets of stone carved steps, to the front of the stage where an orchestra was beginning to play. He placed my hands around his neck and wrapped his arms around my waist, swaying me to a song I’d never heard before. We were so close to one another that I was breathing in his scent—a heavenly spicy smell that enveloped me and made me never want to let go of him. “How was your day today, Claire?” “Good. Yours?” “Awful.” He pulled me even closer. “Until now.” I really should have worn panties... “You know, I could’ve sworn that my car didn’t have customized leather seats and tinted windows when I gave it to you the other day.” “It didn’t?” He smiled. “No...Thank you very much though. And I appreciate the table upgrade too.” “You’re very welcome.”

The lights on the dance floor suddenly went black, and small twinkling lights began to shimmer from above. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s officially midnight!” the maestro spoke. “For those of you who are new to Havana, the next ten minutes on the dance floor will be spent underneath the stars!” The lights transformed from black to dark purple, to mystic blue and then back to black as the orchestra began to play a mid-tempo version of Nora Jones’ “The Nearness of You.” “You look amazing tonight.” Jonathan rubbed the small of my back. I could only nod my head in thanks; that one brush of his fingertips had nearly melted me into the floor. We continued dancing in silence, and I noticed that the lights were dimming darker and darker; the twinkling stars that were once so bright were flickering fainter and fainter. As he held me close, I couldn’t help but feel a bit insecure. I knew Helen had only been joking earlier, but she had a point: Someone like Jonathan could definitely have any woman he wanted—a busty blond Swedish supermodel, a sexy high profile actress, anyone. Anyone more established—and probably much younger, than me. “Do you normally wear dresses like this when you go out?” He tugged at the back of my dress. “Why?” “I’m just wondering.” “Wondering why someone my age would wear something so revealing? Is that what you thought when you first saw me tonight? You don’t have to beat around the bush.” I rolled my eyes. He sighed. “Are you really that hung up on your age?” Unfortunately yes... “No.” I looked up at him. “I just find it a bit odd that you aren’t. I’m not sure what to make of it yet, and the fact that you just asked me about my dress makes me think—” “Do you want to know what I was thinking when I first saw you tonight, Claire?” “Yes...” “You want an honest answer or a politically correct one?” “Honest.” “Okay.” He released me from his arms and stepped away. Before I could wonder where he’d gone, I felt my back pressed against his chest and his hands wrapped around my hips. “When I first saw you tonight,” he lowered his voice and whispered in my ear, “I wanted to drag you out of here, drive you home, and fuck you in every room of my house for the rest of the weekend.” I gasped. “The only reason I asked about your dress is because it looks good on you—very very good on you, and if we were to date I would hope to see more like it.” He hugged me tighter. “So, can you please stop reminding me about the age thing? I honestly wouldn’t give a damn if you were sixty.” I nodded and tried to turn back around to face him, but he wouldn’t release me. He started caressing my thighs. “Can you promise me you’ll drop the age thing?” “Yes...” “Good. Because it doesn’t matter to me.” He swayed me to the music and began planting kisses along my bare shoulders. Every kiss sent a tremor down my spine, a new fluttering butterfly against my stomach. “Are you still free tomorrow?” he whispered. I didn’t answer him. It’d been so long since someone affected me like this and I didn’t want his barrage of kisses to stop.

“Claire?” He kissed the back of my neck and slid a hand underneath my dress. He must’ve realized I wasn’t wearing any panties, because his hand stilled right where the lace band should’ve been. He kissed my neck again and slowly slid his fingers down lower. I could feel the dampness between my thighs and I heard him fail to stifle a groan. I’m never going commando around him again... “Answer me, Claire...” He pushed one finger inside of me and torturously moved it in and out. Say yes...You are still free tomorrow... He pushed two fingers inside of me, holding my body completely still with his other arm. He kept his punishing rhythm at a steady pace, kissing my bare shoulders and whispering my name—waiting for an answer. “This is our last midnight song ladies and gentlemen,” the maestro said as the horns began to play. “After this, we will be switching back to our in house DJ and turning on the lights.” Jonathan slowly pulled his fingers out of me. I thought we were going to dance to the final midnight song, but he began using his thumb to massage my clit. Then he pushed his two skilled fingers in and out of me again. Oh my god... His pressure was perfect. His rhythm was relentless. I was sure I was going to explode in any second if he didn’t stop. “Mr. Stath—” “Jonathan.” He kissed my shoulder. “I...I...” My breath caught in my throat. “Stop...” “Not until you answer my question.” He slipped his other hand underneath my dress and once again stalled when he realized I wasn’t wearing a bra. He cupped each of my breasts, softly pinching my nipples, pushing me further to the edge. I said yes... “The song is going to go off any second, Claire, but I’ll hold you right here—just like this, with the lights on until you answer me.” He was rubbing my clit even harder—faster, and I felt intense tremors building inside of me. “Yes.” I bit my lip to prevent myself from crying out. I didn’t want any of the other people around us to know what was going on. “Thirty seconds until we speed things up again!” The maestro’s voice was muffled. “Yes what?” He continued his rhythm, continued caressing my breasts, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. I exploded in waves around him—shuddering and convulsing, biting down on my lip so hard it was probably bleeding. My knees nearly gave out, and it took every bit of energy I had to not collapse into his arms. “Yes...I’m...free to go out tomorrow.” “Good.” He withdrew his fingers and spun me around. He pulled the bottom of my dress down and grabbed my hand, leading me past the stage. He led me into a private restroom and locked the door. Helen was right—they were nice, too nice. There was a wall length antique mirror that covered the entire left wall, a rustic chandelier with glimmering emeralds, and a sofa and chaise covered in plush red velvet. If Jonathan had been any other man, I would’ve immediately started berating him for what he did to me on the dance floor. I would’ve said it was rude and offensive and that I would never speak to him again. But he wasn’t any other guy and I couldn’t deny that I loved every second of it; I was still entranced.

He took a white cloth from over the sink and ran warm water over it for several seconds. He pulled me over into a corner and slid my dress up past my hips. “Spread your legs,” he whispered. I slid my legs apart and looked into his eyes as he gently wiped the inside of my thighs. He moved his way up in a slow sensuous motion that nearly sent me over the edge again. I tried coming down from the intense high I was feeling, but the look he was giving me was preventing that from happening. He grabbed another cloth—a dry cloth, and caressed me with it until I was completely dry. We kept looking into each other ’s eyes and I thought he was going to say something—or kiss me, but he simply smiled and reached for my hand. “Are you ready to rejoin your friends now?” I nodded. He gave my hand a slight squeeze and walked me back upstairs to our table. As soon as we arrived, he offered to take another drink order for Helen and Sandra. “So?” Sandra smiled. “Is your boss a good dancer?” “He’s very good...” I picked up my mojito and chugged it. She raised her eyebrow but she didn’t say anything further. She and Helen filled me in on two men they’d met during the midnight dance, but I was only halfway listening. I was still hypnotized by Jonathan’s touch and honestly wished that it hadn’t ended so soon. When he finally returned to the table, he talked to us as if we’d all known each other for a long time. Much to my surprise—and disappointment, he didn’t touch me again.

Jonathan put his jacket over my shoulders. “Where’d you park? I’ll walk you to your car.” “The east lot.” “Okay.” He clasped my hand and we walked over in silence. He helped me into my car and before I could drive off, he tapped the window. “You never told me where you wanted to meet me tomorrow.” He smiled. “Did you forget already?” “Oh no, I just...Um, how about doing an early run with a great view of the city? Around eight?” “That sounds great. Where?” “Corona Heights Park?” “I’ll see you there.” He pulled a small box from his back pocket and handed it to me. “Happy Birthday again, Claire.” “Thank you.” I tried not to blush as I rolled my window up. As soon as I pulled in front of my house, I opened the box and peeled the thin layer of tissue paper away. There was a note: “To the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met: Give me a chance to show you how great we could be together—Jonathan.” I rolled my eyes and pulled out what was underneath: a diamond lattice bracelet that looked like it cost more than my house. I latched it onto my wrist and watched it sparkle against the darkness, wondering when I would ever wear something like this out in public. I wasn’t sure whether I should keep it or not, but I knew I would give it back if I chose not to date him for the long term. I looked down at the box again and noticed that there was a tightly folded piece of paper at the very bottom. I used my nails to pry it out and unfolded it: a page from the Statham Industries’ employee handbook.

Highlighted in yellow were the words, “Revised as of January 2013: The no fraternization clause is hereby terminated. Interpersonal relationships between employees are no longer a violation of company policy.”

I woke up at six in the morning, practically dragging Ashley and Caroline from their beds. No matter how many times I suggested that they go to bed early on nights that they had work in the morning, they never listened. “Do you have your ID badges? You know I’m not driving out there to bring them if you don’t.” “Yeah, yeah.” They both groaned as they zombie-walked down the steps. I watched them take their time getting ready for work—ironing their white polo shirts and khakis, re-shining their leather flats, and arguing about whose turn it was to drive. “Ashley, I’m pretty sure it’s your turn.” I sighed after watching them conduct yet another coin toss. “Please drive safely and—” “Stay together.” Caroline groaned. “We’re sixteen, not six, mom. See you later.” “Have a great day at work.” I shooed them out of the house and waited until their car coasted down the hill. I rushed upstairs to my bathroom and changed into my most flattering workout outfit—a black and pink cotton pantsuit that clung to my curves, and matching black tennis shoes. “Claire Gracen, this is not a date. It’s just an outing. A regular outing.” I looked at myself in the mirror. “Do not show any signs of attraction. Do not agree to any dates past today. This is only because he made you cum on the dance floor last night and you lost control...That’s the only reason you’re going to this thing. After today, this goes back to being a strictly professional relationship.” I headed outside and revved up my car, cutting through the city streets to make it to the edge of the park. I drove through the lot and spotted a beautiful silver Jaguar that I assumed was Jonathan’s. How many ridiculously expensive cars does he own? “Good morning.” He stepped out of the car and smiled at me. “How are you feeling today?” “Great. You?” “Perfect. Do you want to walk or run through the trail?” “I want to run.” “All five miles?” He tossed a jacket into his car. “Are you sure?” “Are you not in shape? Would you prefer if we drove through the trail instead?” He laughed. “I’m in excellent shape, Claire. I was just making sure you have the stamina to keep up with me.” He gave me a wicked grin and I immediately turned away and started running. He was at my side within seconds and together we sprinted through the clay trail, weaving through the clove of trees. We kept pace with one another, never stopping to catch a breath. Every now and then I could feel him looking over at me, maybe even smiling at me, but I was too focused on making it to the end of the trail to return his gazes. Running had a way of calming my nerves, making me feel at peace, and I couldn’t focus on much else when my feet were hitting the pavement. Once I crossed the five mile marker, I stopped and held my knees. I heard Jonathan slightly panting next to me. “Most women I know can’t run one mile without stopping, let alone five...” He sounded impressed. “Have you always been a runner?” “Hell no.” I sank down to the ground and stretched my legs. “I used to hate running...I’ve only been doing it for the past four years. How long have you been running?” “All my life.” He slid his shirt over his head, revealing a sweaty set of washboard abs. He sat

down next to me. “It’s one of the few things I’m very good at.” There seemed to be a double meaning behind his words, and a part of me wanted to ask him to explain it, but I remembered the speech I’d given myself earlier. I didn’t need to pry into his personal life because I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. I cleared my throat. “Oh...Well that sounds very—” “How old are your daughters, Claire? If you don’t mind me asking.” “Sixteen.” “They’re twins?” He raised his eyebrow. “Are they identical?” I nodded. “Yeah, I couldn’t really tell them apart until they were three. That’s when they started developing their own little personalities and—” Whoa. Overshare. Stick to basic information... “You plan on ever finishing that sentence?” He smiled. I didn’t respond. Between the beads of sweat that were trickling down his sculpted chest, his gorgeous eyes, and that ‘I-know-damn-well-you-want-me’ smile, I was trapped. I slowly stood up and dusted the dirt off the back of my pants. “Um...we should probably head back now. I think we should run again.” “So you won’t have to talk to me?” Yes. “No, that’s not it. I’m sure you have a million other things you could be doing right now so—” “Not at all. I cleared my whole morning for you.” Damnit... “That was...” I looked away from him. “That was very nice of you, but I only have time for a run so—” “Claire, you told me you were free last night, and I’m pretty sure nothing has changed between two a.m. and now. You and I are on a date, which means that since we’re not getting lunch or dinner, we are going to walk back together. Then our “miserable” date that I apparently forced you to come on will end, and you can pretend like you actually have some work to do.” I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t help it. “As long as we’re done by noon. I do have some things I have to do today.” “Like what?” “I have to sort through some more sPhone blue ideas for the upcoming campaign. Mr. Barnes wants us to pick a favorite by Monday and that’s going to take a miracle...” “Speaking of which, why do you hate your job?” “Telling the CEO why I hate my job? I don’t think so.” “I won’t take it personal.” He motioned for me to start walking beside him. “I really want to know.” “No you don’t.” I laughed. “Tell me.” I sighed. “In a nutshell: the employee benefits suck, cars should never be towed off the lot, directors should be allowed at least fifteen hours overtime a month, and working two years just to be eligible for one week of vacation? That’s ridiculous. Oh, and what’s the point in offering free coffee if there’s hardly ever any, and when there is, it tastes like shit? Just don’t offer any and save your money. And don’t get me started on that motivational idiot who made us put beanbags in our offices and gave us “Zen” journals. I could’ve given you a much better way to spend two million dollars.” Jonathan stopped walking and looked down at me, right into my eyes. He was quiet for a long time, and then he burst into laughter. “Are you always this blunt?” “You asked for the truth.”

“I think I’ve learned my lesson.” He smiled and started walking again. I thought he would ask me more questions, or that I would feel compelled to ask him a few to make our walk easier, but I was actually enjoying the silence; I had the feeling that he was too. Before I knew it, I could see the parking lot in the distance and the quarter mile marker straight ahead. Jonathan followed me over to my car and before I could pull the door open, he gently grabbed me by my shoulders and turned me around. He looked into my eyes again. “I know we didn’t talk much, but I had a great time today, Claire.” “Me too...” Silence. I felt his fingers running through my damp hair, his hard chest pressed against mine. My heart was beating an entirely new rhythm and no matter how hard I tried to control it, it only beat wilder and faster. “I’m going to be in New York for a conference this week...” He readjusted my sweatband. “Can I take you out to dinner when I get back on Saturday?” NO...No, you don’t want whatever he thinks this is to go any further...This does not need to turn into an every-weekend thing. That is not happening...Turn away from him and— He raised his eyebrow. “Claire?” I nodded. “I need you to say it out loud.” He pushed my body against the car. Silence. He smiled. “What? No smart-mouthed comments about dinner on Saturday?” “I think we should go Dutch...I don’t want you getting the wrong impression.” “And what impression would that be?” “That I’m attracted to you, because that still hasn’t changed.” “You’re right.” He slipped his arms around my waist. “I wouldn’t dare think that. Is that a yes to Saturday?” “It’s a maybe.” I heard him laugh and then I felt his lips brush against mine—softly, gently, as if he didn’t want to completely kiss me. He slowly released me and stepped back. “I’ll call you while I’m in New York. We’re going to make sure that maybe becomes a yes.”

Chapter 6 Jonathan Why did I ever agree to come to this conference? I sat in the front row of the Four Seasons’ ballroom and sighed as other software techies talked about their rise to fame and how they’d built their empires from the ground up. Normally, this type of thing would excite and inspire me, but all the techies this year were people I’d worked with before; I knew their success stories like the back of my hand. The only thing different was the fact that I was the keynote speaker, and thousands of high school students were invited to come watch. As the CEO of Apple, Inc. finished his speech, I clapped and made sure my speech was still in my breast pocket. “And now,” the conference host said as he walked onstage, “for the final speech of the night. Ladies and gentlemen, I am honored to introduce our keynote speaker. Over the past nine years, he has become a force to be reckoned with in the software industry—breaking almost every sales record when it comes to the latest technology. His latest product, the sPhone blue, is due to debut this spring and has already earned fifty million dollars in pre-order sales!” The audience clapped and my face appeared on the massive projector screens that flanked the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the host continued, “a man who needs no further introduction—CEO of Statham Industries, Mr. Jonathan Statham! I stood up and made my way onto the stage, nodding at the standing ovation, waiting for the crowd to sit back down. “Thank you all very much for inviting me to the annual Innovative Technology Conference.” I pulled my speech out of my pocket. “It’s an honor to be here, and I’ll do my best not to bore you for the next twenty minutes.” The audience laughed. I read my speech off with ease, making eye contact with the people I knew in the crowd, bracing myself for the worst part of being the keynote speaker: the extensive Q&A session. For three hours I answered questions that had nothing—absolutely nothing to do with Statham Industries: “Are you single?” “What do you look for in a woman?” “How often do you work out?” “When do you plan on getting married?” What’s worse was that my colleagues were playing along with the students and acting like these questions were completely normal; they even asked me a few questions about women and dating themselves. When the Q&A session was finally over, I attended a smaller meeting with the top students in the country. Gratefully, I engaged in conversations that were solely about computer development. It was ten o’ clock by the time I finished, and I made a conscious effort to disappear for the rest of the night. I rode the elevator to the penthouse suite and headed straight to my bed, walking past the custom living room and double kitchens. I took off my jacket and turned on the light.

“Took you long enough!” My friend Stacy rolled off the bed wearing a silky piece of black lingerie. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming!” I completely forgot about this... Stacy was an international supermodel who I’d met earlier in my career. Back then, she was only doing local magazines and commercials, but I took a huge risk and made her the national spokesperson for my company’s first laptop. The campaign was an overnight success—launching her into superstardom. We tried to do the relationship thing soon after, but we realized that we were better off as friends—with benefits. “I’ve got strawberry, pina colada, wild berry, and spicy cinnamon. I personally prefer the wild berry lube because it’s a lot smoother and doesn’t leave a weird aftertaste, but I figured I’d let you pick this time. Oh! And, guess what I also brought?” She pulled a silver packet from her bra. “Ultraribbed for his and her pleasure! Sexy, right?” I collapsed into a chair and laughed. “Sounds great, but I don’t feel like it tonight.” “Excuse me? You don’t feel like it tonight? This is the third time you’ve been in New York and you’re turning me down again?” “If my memory serves me correctly, you turned me down the other two times.” “Those don’t count. We were drunk and I don’t do smashed sex.” She walked over to me and pretended to check my forehead for a fever. “Wait a minute. Are you and Audrey back together?” “No.” “Okay...Did you recently come out of the closet or something? Are you gay?” “Excuse me?” “Oh my god! It makes perfect sense! All these years! That’s the real reason you dumped Audrey isn’t it? And the fact that I’m standing here half-naked and you’re not even hard makes it even clearer! So, who’s the lucky guy?” She started putting her clothes back on. “Stacy, I’m far from gay. Trust me. I just don’t feel like it.” “Umm hmmm.” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “Then what’s her name?” “Her who?” She rolled her eyes and pulled me out of my chair. “If we’re not going to do anything, the least you can do is buy me a round, a real round, and tell me who ruined my chance at good sex for tonight.” I followed her onto the elevator, up to the rooftop bar, and ordered us a few glasses of stiff drinks. Any other night, she and I would be back in my hotel suite, having sex on every single surface, filling each other in on the random things that had happened in our lives. We would be laughing at the things we didn’t understand about each other ’s careers: I never understood why the fashion industry took itself so seriously, and she could never comprehend the excitement behind innovative technology. But tonight, when I saw her standing half naked in my bedroom, the only thing I could think about was Claire and her smart ass mouth. “You ever date a younger guy, Stacy?” I spooned a lemon slice from my vodka. “Yeah. Twice.” “What happened?” “The first guy was twenty-one when I was twenty-six, and the second guy was twenty-three when I was twenty-eight. That’s what happened...How old is she?” “She just turned forty this past Friday.” “Wow...” “Wow, what?”

“Nothing, I just—wow...I actually think the whole ‘older woman-younger guy’ thing is kind of hot. Since she’s older, maybe she’ll help you out with some of your bedroom techniques.” “I’ve never gotten any complaints.” “It was a joke, Jonathan.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, why do you care about her age?” “I don’t. She does.” Stacy nodded. “That’s understandable. Well, just show her that it doesn’t matter. I mean, it’s just sex right? I’m sure when you two are going at it, your age is the last thing on her mind so—” “We haven’t had sex.” “What?” She clutched her chest. “Jonathan Statham has detailed a woman’s car, given her thousands of dollars in flowers and jewelry, been out with her twice, and hasn’t had sex with her? Who are you?” “First off, I’m not that insatiable. Second off, I do want to have sex with her but—why am I even discussing this with you?” “You like her, don’t you?” I sighed. I didn’t want to continue this conversation. “How does it feel to be on the cover of Sports Illustrated for the second year in a row? I liked the red bikini on you. It was different.” “You should call her tonight. You don’t have to do the whole ‘wait a week’ thing with an older woman. She’ll just write you off as—” “I am going to call her tonight.” “Damn. It’s even worse than I thought.” She laughed. “Good for you though. Anyway, it’s time for more drinks. I need at least seven more.” “Whatever you say.” It took a lot more than seven for her to feel satisfied, and since she passed out in middle of drinking one, I had to carry her down to her room. Once I tucked her into bed and made sure that she could sleep without throwing up, I walked back up to my suite and called Claire. “Hello?” She picked up on the third ring. “Hello, Claire.” “Um...Hi.” She sounded surprised. “How’s your conference going?” “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been paying attention. How are things back at corporate?” “Pretty great. There was a memo from the CEO today about the parking zones being permanently terminated. Everyone here is pretty excited since he’s finally pulled his head out of his ass.” I laughed. “Do you practice insulting people or are you naturally good at it?” “I practice five hours a day.” “Time very well spent. About dinner this Saturday night—” “What about it?” “What do I have to do to get you to say yes?” She sighed. “Agree to let me pay for my own dinner.” “And why would I do that?” “Because it sets boundaries between us and it won’t feel like a date.” “It is a date.” “Well, it shouldn’t be. I know you changed the company policy on dating, but us hanging out outside of the office is wrong, regardless of if you think so or not.” “So you want me to fire you?” “What! No, I don’t want you to—” “Because I will, if that’s what it takes.” She sighed. “Will you just let me pay for my own dinner?”

No...“Sure, Claire. I can let you do that. I made us a reservation at Michael Mina for eight o’ clock. Am I allowed to come pick you up or is that out of the question as well?” “I’ll meet you there. I know where that is.” Of course... “Well, I’m looking forward to it. Have you come across any good campaign ideas yet?” “Yeah.” There was a rustling of papers in the background. “Roses are red, sPhones are blue. I’m going to buy one and so should you.” “Please tell me you’re joking.” “No, that was a real idea. It’s about to find a home at the bottom of my trashcan.” “Great decision.” She cleared her throat. “So, I take it that your conference is about—” “I don’t want to talk about work, Claire. And I’m sure you don’t either. Let’s talk about you.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay...What do you want to know?” “Tell me what you like to do in your free time.” For hours, I listened to her talk about her favorite hobbies—dissecting interior design magazines, studying bridge architecture, running, and reading books. It was quite refreshing to talk to someone whose point of reference didn’t revolve around celebrity culture or the latest reality TV show. While she was in the middle of explaining her dreams of running a marathon, I heard her yawn and looked at my watch. Five o’clock. “I guess we should call it a night...I didn’t realize it was getting so late.” I lay back on my bed. “You know, you can call me whenever I cross your mind too.” “Well, if that ever happens I’ll do that. Goodbye, Jonathan.” “Goodbye, Claire.” I knew she wasn’t going to call me, so for the rest of the week I called her when I was done with all my meetings. I kept things simple and steered clear of asking any personal questions; I had the feeling she wouldn’t be too receptive to that. When my plane landed back in San Francisco on Saturday afternoon, I sent her a text: “Michael Mina’s @ 8:00. 252 California St. Just in case you “don’t” know where that is. See you there.”

“Wait a minute,” Corey said, laughing. “What do you mean she stood you up?” “I don’t think there’s any other way to say it. She. Stood. Me. Up.” I rolled my eyes. “I thought you said she seemed mature.” “She is, she’s just...” This doesn’t make any sense... “Welp. Oh well. Do you want to go over the Sorrento account today? Their camera software is worth investing in and we could use the upgrade.” “Later.” I sighed. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” “Bottom of what? Bottom of—Do you know you’re talking about a woman who has A) told you you’re way too young for her, B) admitted that she has two sixteen year old daughters—daughters, plural! And C) stood you up last night? Do you realize any of that?” I shook my head. “It doesn’t make sense. We talked all week. She didn’t call or text me to let me know she wasn’t coming.” “I think she’s trying to show you that she’s not interested in you. She probably thought standing you up would help you see that since you keep ignoring what she says.” I didn’t believe that. I’d felt how she reacted to me on the dance floor on her birthday, seen the way she looked at me when we were out running, and heard the way her voice hitched whenever I called her on the phone.

I could admit that she was good at playing nonchalant and being a smart-mouth—and she’d definitely mastered the poker face, but she wasn’t pretending to act like she was affected by me. “Whenever you want to focus on what’s really important, i.e. this Sorrento account, feel free to call me back.” Corey hung up. “Sir?” My driver pulled over and turned his head around. “They’re not allowing cars to go any further.” “Thanks, Greg.” I stepped out of the car and looked at all the activity that was surrounding the Oasis Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Center. There were the usual yellow and blue balloons, the white coated doctors greeting guests from the doors, and the “purity waterfall” which stood out front spewing red colored water; my mom had told me the red signified something, but I forgot what it was. I’d spent yet another fifty thousand dollars for her to get treatment for her drug addiction, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time. I walked inside and took a seat near the back of the auditorium, watching the same exact ceremony I’d seen eleven months ago. I watched my mom smile as she took the completion certificate from the head doctor on stage, watched her recite the “Today Begins My New Life” poem, and watched her eyes light up with the same self-promises she’d made several times before. At one point, the head doctor asked the audience to stand and recite the “Supporters Pledge,” but as I mouthed the familiar words, an image of Claire ran across my mind. I wanted to know why the hell she’d stood me up, why the hell she didn’t even think to call and cancel. I thought about calling to ask her why, but I decided against it; I wasn’t the “call and ask” type. All of sudden, I heard the “reformed” patients singing the final “Now My Life Begins” song and realized the ceremony was over. “Thank you so much for coming, sweetheart!” My mom rushed over and gave me a hug. “I think this was it! I think I finally get it now!” I hugged her back. “I hope so.” “No Audrey? Where’s your girlfriend?” “We broke up a long time ago.” “Oh. I’m so sorry...You’re not dating anyone else?” “No.” Even if I was, I wouldn’t have told her. I didn’t need to open up to her right away, and I didn’t want to pretend like she was a real part of my life. She looked saddened. “Well, whenever that day comes, can I meet her?” Never... “Sure.” “I meant what I said about changing, Jonathan. I want us to meet up at least once a week. I need you to help me stay on track for a while.” “Good idea.” I tried to sound convinced. “Let’s get lunch before we get you into your new condo. I bought you one with two levels just like you asked.”

January 19, 2013 Dear Journal, Today I learned that there is a distinct difference between “forgiveness” and “stupidity.” Forgiveness is what happens when you can honestly move past something and let it go. Stupidity is what happens when you tell someone “I forgive you” (because it’s the “right thing” to do), but you secretly hope they drop dead right in front of you and tumble into the seventh circle of hell. That said, I do not forgive Ryan Hayes for cheating on me with my former best friend. I probably never will and I’m perfectly okay with that. I don’t want to hear any bullshit about how “forgiveness helps you sleep better at night,” because that’s not true. (My seven layer mattress is amazing) Anyway, I received my evaluations from my associates this week and I waited until Friday to open them. Out of a possible five stars, my score is a 3.8. Now, normally this wouldn’t bother me, because stars are just stars and they don’t mean anything. But this year they were allowed to write anonymous comments with their ratings and I almost went out there and fired every single one of them. Their comments went something like this: “Miss Gracen is an okay director, but she would be better if she weren’t so stuck up.” “Miss Gracen should trust us with more work.” “Miss Gracen should stop trashing so many of our concepts and send them up to the board.” “She dresses nice but she doesn’t know much about advertising.” “Miss Gracen needs to realize that most of us went to Ivyleague colleges and are more than capable of coming up with great campaign slogans. (Didn’t she go to the University of Pittsburgh? Isn’t that a public school?)” You know what? I’m not even going to address their dumbass remarks. I just... “The new sPhone blue. We make Crayola jealous.” Enough said. This can’t be my life, Claire

Chapter 7 Claire I called in sick to work on Monday. I didn’t want to deal with Jonathan asking me any questions about me standing him up for our date, and I didn’t feel like sitting through another useless brainstorming session. All I wanted to do was relax. I dimmed the lights in my bathroom and lit all my favorite candles—vanilla, honeysuckle, and amber. I tossed a few Eucalyptus salts into the tub and turned on the water, squeezing generous dollops of cherry bubble bath underneath the running faucet. I’d always felt that bubble baths were the best therapy in the world. Hot water and soapy beads had a way of helping me escape to another life—a life where I could sail to anywhere I wanted, a life where I worked because I wanted to, not because I had to. I stepped into the tub and slid under the suds, letting the warm water lull me into my special place. Don’t think about work...Don’t think about work... I pulled my favorite purple vibrator from the side panel and sighed. I hit the “on” button, prepared to put him to work, but the doorbell suddenly rang. Ugh! Why now? I figured my next door neighbor had received my mail by accident again and wanted to “personally return it” as opposed to simply sticking it in my mailbox. My neighbors were so syrupy sweet sometimes it made me sick. I waited to see if she would go away, if she wouldn’t notice that my car was parked right out front, but the doorbell rang again. Damnit... I stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around myself. Blowing out all of the candles, I put my hair into a high messy ponytail. “I’m coming Mrs. Hamilton! Give me one second!” I rushed downstairs. I opened the door and saw Jonathan standing there, looking completely irresistible. He was dressed in another perfectly fitted suit—dark gray with an opened collared white shirt, and his stunning blue eyes shifted from my face to my towel; it seemed like he was slowly undressing me. “Umm hello?” I closed the door halfway and peeked around it. “Why are you here?” “Hi.” He grinned. “You called in sick today.” “Okay. And? Do you make house visits every time an employee calls off work?” “No. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” “Oh. Well, I am. Thanks for stopping by. Have a great—” “I actually need you to sign off on your team’s designs before they can be presented this afternoon.” He held a briefcase up. “Every director has to pick a top option.” Oh my god, I forgot all about that...Why didn’t I remember that the meeting with the advisors was today? “Are you going to let me in so you can see them, Miss Gracen?” He smirked. “Give me a minute.” I shut the door in his face.

I rushed upstairs to my room and put on a pair of sweats and a baggy T-shirt. I threw my robe on over it and caught a glance of myself in the mirror. I look absolutely terrible right now... I took my time walking down the steps and opened the door. “You sure this isn’t about me standing you up Saturday?” He smiled and walked past me. “Of course not. This is business, not personal. Do you have a table you can lay these out on?” I showed him past my unfinished hallway and ushered him into my rustic themed kitchen; I was glad I’d cleaned up this morning. He set the suitcase on the table and looked around. His eyes met mine and I turned away. “This is very nice.” He ran his fingers across the hanging bronze light fixture. “Who designed this room for you?” “I did.” I sat down and opened the briefcase. “I did the paint, the crown molding, everything. It took me two months to get the flooring right. I had to buy it in installments.” “I’m impressed.” I pulled out the first few markups and sighed. I was now convinced that I needed to find a way to quit his company in two years, not five. My associates didn’t know shit about marketing. Actually, they didn’t know shit about anything. None of their ad submissions were as terrible as the ‘the cotton field’ one, but they were still lackluster. There were even misspelled words on some of them. How hard is it to hit ‘spellcheck’? “You don’t look too happy.” Jonathan sat in the chair next to me. “I’m not. My daughters could’ve designed these in ten minutes and done a much better job.” “Tell them we’re hiring.” I rolled my eyes. “They hear me complaining about my job every day. I doubt they’d be interested...I guess I’ll go with this one though. It’s simple, modern, and it gets the point across. We can have the art division spice it up if the chairs approve.” I placed the best poster on top and placed the stack back into the briefcase. I stood up and clasped my hands together. “Thank you very much for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Statham. You can go now.” “Is that coffee?” He pointed to my coffeemaker. “Can I have a cup before I leave?” “Don’t you need to get back to work?” He looked at his watch. “It’s eleven o’ clock. The meeting isn’t until three.” Ugh, my bath is getting cold... I walked over to the cabinet and pulled out two mugs, making us both a cup. I didn’t bother asking him how he liked his; I made it just like mine and handed it to him without sitting down. “Thank you,” he said as he took a slow sip. “How was your weekend?” “You said this was a business visit. I don’t think that question—” “The first part was business. Now it’s personal.” He glared at me. “How. Was. Your. Weekend?” He set the coffee down. So he is mad about being stood up... “It was um, great. How was yours?” “Yours was great? That sounds really interesting. What all did you do?” He narrowed his eyes at me and leaned back in his chair. Try to look away from him, try to look away from him... “I went for a long run with two of my friends and caught up on some work.”

“Hmmm. You know, I was having a pretty good weekend too. I was spending my nights talking to an extremely beautiful woman. I believe I talked to her every night and we made an arrangement... But then she stood me up on Saturday, so my weekend ended quite terribly.” “Oh really?” I cleared my throat. “Well, that stuff happens sometimes. It’s all a part of life, young man. Live a little more and then—” “I’m not sure what I should be more upset about—the fact that you keep insulting me by using my age against me, or the fact that I sat in an empty restaurant waiting for you for two hours.” He waited two hours? “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I just—” “The last time I was stood up for a date was...” He stood up and walked over to me. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been stood up on a date. It’s such a juvenile thing to do, don’t you think?” “Yes. It’s quite juvenile. I can’t imagine why someone would ever do that.” “Hmmm.” He reached down and removed the elastic band from my ponytail, letting my hair fall to my shoulders. “You have no idea why a beautiful woman would stand me up for a date?” “Maybe there’s a lack of chemistry?” I nearly stuttered. “No, she and I have plenty of chemistry...” “Could it be that you two have nothing in common?” He ran his fingers through my hair. “We talked for quite a while last week...I think we have more than enough in common.” I shrugged. “Maybe she’s just not that into you then.” “Oh, she’s definitely into me.” He smirked. “She just won’t admit it for some reason.” “Well, if it were me, I would just give up and pursue someone else. She did stand you up.” He tilted my chin with his fingertips so that I was looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not going to give up. She is. And I don’t want to pursue anyone else.” We stood gazing into each other ’s eyes and I realized that I needed to get him out of my house and get back to my bubble bath. I should use him for inspiration... “Look, I was in the middle of something very important before you came over, so if you could leave right now so I can get back to it, that would be great. Maybe we can talk about what happened over the weekend at work tomorrow? For the record, I really am sorry I stood you up. I had every intention of being there but—” He silenced me with a kiss and I kissed him back with a passion I’d never felt before. He reached down and untied my robe, pushing it off my shoulders and onto the floor. Smiling, he assaulted my mouth with his tongue again, using his hands to tug at the drawstring on my pants. All of sudden, I felt a vibrating sound going off in my pocket. Before I could reach down and shut it off, he reached into my pants and pulled out my favorite purple friend. He examined it for a few seconds, blinking. Then he held it front of my face and smirked. “Is this what I was interrupting?” It’s been four years....Four. Long. Years... “Claire?” He cupped my chin and held my face so I wouldn’t be able to turn away. “Is this what you were doing?” “I...” I swallowed. Then I went for it. “What if it was?” A slow, sexy smile spread across his lips. “Then I think I should finish what you started.” He sealed his mouth over mine again and pressed me against the island, making it hard for me to breathe. I’d never been kissed like he was kissing me; it felt like I was having sex—with my mouth. He was controlling my tongue with his, molding his perfectly full lips to mine, and biting down on my

tongue whenever I tried to catch a breath. I felt him yanking my pants down, not being gentle about it at all. As soon as they hit the floor, he snatched his mouth away from mine and pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it across the room. “Come here,” he said as he lifted me on top of the counter. He pushed me onto my back, causing my cookbooks and folders to fall to the floor. Leaning over me, he fisted his hands in my hair, kissing me again and again. He kept his eyes locked on mine as he quickly stepped back to unbuckle his pants and pull out a condom. I gasped and sat up, panting as he un-wrapped it. “You always come prepared to sleep with employees when they call off sick?” I looked down below his waist and my eyes widened as far as they could go; his dick was twice the size of my ex-husband’s. Oh god... A hint of a smile played on his lips. “Do you always use your sick days to stay at home and play with yourself?” My cheeks burned bright red and I was about to reply, but he grabbed me by my hips and pulled me closer. Lowering his voice, he looked directly into my eyes. “Wrap your legs around me so I can fuck you.” I went stiff. My conscience started to warn me about this—something about how it wasn’t a good idea to sleep with my boss, my much younger boss, but I ignored it. I wrapped my legs around his waist and tried not to scream as he slowly entered me, as he stretched me way past my limit, filling me in places that I didn’t even know existed. I felt him swelling inside of me, still trying to fit, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Ohhhh.....Oh goddd!” “Is this how you treat people who ask you out?” He was completely inside of me now, but he was keeping his dick still. “Do you think that’s a nice thing to do?” I shook my head, exhaling as my body adjusted to his thickness. I wrapped my arms around his neck to steady myself and groaned as he kissed my neck. He ran his hands up and down my back and whispered, “Are you sure that’s not a nice thing to do, Claire?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. He started sliding in and out of me, making me moan with each thrust, making me wish he would never stop. “I...I...” I tried to catch my breath. “You sure you don’t like standing them up and making them come after you?” He picked up his pace, thrusting harder and harder, gripping my hips so I couldn’t resist the tempo. “Forcing them to wait for two hours?” “Ahhhhh....” My mind went blank. I heard him asking me more questions—something about him being upset, but I could only focus on how good this fucking felt. I shut my eyes and surrendered to his control, letting him make my body feel things it’d never felt before. With his hands secured around my waist, he carried me over to the wall—still buried deep inside of me. “Don’t move.” He pressed my ass against the wall and pounded into me repeatedly, making me cry out in unbearable pleasure. I tightened my legs around him as he continued his reckless rhythm, digging my nails into his back each time he plunged into me. He pressed his mouth against mine to muffle my loud cries, but his kiss only pushed me further to the edge. He thrust into me as deep as he could go, and my insides shattered into millions of pieces; my screams couldn’t be contained.

He found his own release seconds after, and we both slid down to the floor, panting. I sat still and let the cool wall press into my back, wincing as he pulled out of me. I was trying to focus on something else other than what had just happened, trying to float back down to earth. I can’t believe I did that...I just fucked the CEO... I moved past him and fumbled around for my robe, hastily tying it around my body. I ignored the wicked looks he was giving me as he stood up and re-adjusted his pants. I took a deep breath and rose to my feet, trying to find my words. “I...I need to shower and you need to go to your meeting so—” “You’re kicking me out?” “Yes.” I walked over to the table and made sure his briefcase was closed before picking it up. “Here’s your briefcase. I picked ad stock number eighteen...Have a good day.” He swooped down to kiss me, but I stepped back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Statham.” He laughed. “See you tomorrow, Claire.”

I sat at my desk and stared blankly at the computer screen. All I could think about was yesterday’s rendezvous with Jonathan and how I should’ve let him stay for another hour or two. I wasn’t sure if it felt so amazing because I hadn’t had sex in such a long time, or if I should give him all the credit. I called Sandra. “Hey. Are you busy?” “Of course not, Miss ‘I-Gave-It-Up-Before-The-Third-Date’!” She laughed. “You never texted me back yesterday! How was it?” “It was amazing...It was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. Hands down.” “Really? Better than sex with your ex-husband?” Hell yes! “Yes...” I was getting hot just thinking about it. “Do you think if I call in sick tomorrow he’ll come over again?” “What a turnaround from last week!” She laughed. “Probably. I think he likes you.” That’s exactly what I’m afraid of... “Oh! Claire, I’ve got to go. I’ve got an emergency patient out front. I’ll call you later.” She hung up and I reclined in my chair. Thanks to my constant fantasizing, I hadn’t done much of anything all day and I was considering going home early. “Claire?” Mr. Barnes stuck his head inside my door. “We’ve finally got an idea I think you’re going to like!” I highly doubt that... “I’ll be right there. Give me one second.” I waited until I was sure he was gone, and slipped into another pair of panties under my desk. That’s pair number two and it’s not even noon... I walked outside my office, spotted the “idea I was sure to like,” and forced myself not to turn back around. “Mr. Barnes, I told you this ad was racist last week. It’s still racist...” “Ah, ah, ah! Look closer!” He brought the poster closer to my face. “It’s not just African American slaves now. We’ve got Caucasian slaves, Hispanic slaves, and Asian slaves—with chopsticks! Tell me that’s not diversity!” “Okay. I’m going home.” “Stop, stop! It was a joke. Show her the real poster, Tina.” His assistant put down the atrocity and held up a simple ad of a sPhone blue floating amongst the

clouds. It read, “Light. Airy. sBlue.” “Wow! I like it!” I smiled. “We may have to play with the words a bit, but the visual is spectacular!” “Finally! You actually like something!” He laughed. “Could you run this up to Mr. Statham? He’s in the art studio. He’s been nagging me about updates all day.” “Why can’t you do it?” “I have a recommendation letter to write for Tina.” He looked at his watch. “It’s due in two hours.” Why is he always so last minute?! I grabbed the poster and headed for the elevators. Even though I’d been thinking about Jonathan all day, I didn’t want to see him at work unless I absolutely had to. I stepped off on the art floor and looked around. There was no one at any of the desks, and all the computers looked like they’d been sleeping for hours. I walked around to the photography room and saw Jonathan talking to a woman in a purple dress. He smiled at me as I entered, then he turned his attention back to her. “You think we need to hire more senior photographers, Miss Blanc? Won’t that cause more friction?” “Not at all.” She shook her head. “We need new talent too. Jillian is retiring this summer and Bailey will be taking an extended maternity leave in March. At the very least, we could use two people on one year contracts.” “I’ll definitely let HR know that tomorrow, Miss Blanc. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “See you tomorrow, Mr. Statham. Thanks for letting all of us take the rest of the day off.” She blushed and walked out of the room. He waited until he heard the ping of the elevators to say anything to me. “To what do I owe this surprise, Miss Gracen?” “This is the latest idea from our department.” I handed him the poster. “The words aren’t set in stone yet, but we want to keep the visual.” “Yes, it’s a very beautiful visual...” He wasn’t even looking at it. I stepped back. “Could you please look at the board?” “It looks good. I like the clouds. Happy? Now, answer my question. Why are you up here?” “Were you expecting Mr. Barnes?” “I was. I’ve been calling him about this all day and wanted his insight on a few other things.” “Oh...Ohhhh.” I backed away. “So, you’re interested in pursuing relations with male and female employees. Enlightening.” He let out a low laugh. “I’m only interested in one employee that works here, but I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to deal with her insulting me...” “Are you always this glib? It’s a major turn off for me.” “You know,” he said as he rubbed his chin, “I was thinking about asking you out again, but I don’t want to be stood up twice.” “Well, don’t ask and you won’t have to worry about that.” “I won’t.” He locked his eyes on mine, pinning me to one spot, leaving me completely motionless. Shit, I need to change my panties again... He stood up and walked over to me, smiling as if he knew I was unable to move. He made a full circle around me and then he stopped and reached into his pocket. “You kicked me out so fast yesterday that I left without giving you your little friend back.” He retrieved the vibrator and held it out for me. “Are you going to take it?” I blushed and reached for it, but he moved it away.

“I honestly don’t think you need this anymore, Claire.” He rolled it around in his palm. “And why is that?” “Because I’m more than willing to take its place. And I can guarantee that I’ll do a much better job.” My panties were officially soaked. “Um...I should probably—” “Go?” “Yes. I should go...I need to finish some work downstairs and get back to—” “You don’t have anything to do.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me senseless. Before I could react, he slipped his fingers underneath my shirt and popped the snaps off my bra. He cupped the back of my neck with his hand—dipping his tongue deeper into my mouth, using his other hand to rub the small of my back. “Shut the door,” he whispered in between breaths. “What?” My eyes widened. “Okay. Door open it is.” He continued kissing me, sliding my shirt off my shoulders, pushing me over to the table that lined the back of the wall. He slid his hands underneath my skirt and groaned, biting my bottom lip as I tried to break away. Then he tore his mouth away from mine. “Bend over the desk.” I stilled. I wasn’t sure whether he was serious or not. Sex right now? On company property? His company’s property? I stood there blinking at him, thinking I’d interpreted that completely wrong. “Claire...” He spun me around so my back was to his front, so I was facing the wall. “Bend. Over. The. Desk.” I hesitated, wishing I’d closed the door when he’d told me to. I tried to turn back around, but he wedged his knee in between my thighs and spread my legs apart. “I hate repeating myself,” he whispered in my ear, sending chills up and down my spine. “Bend over right now.” I gasped, slowly bending over the desk, pressing my stomach against the flat surface. “Grab onto the edge,” he ordered, and I obliged. I felt him pushing my skirt up and moving my panties to the side, letting out a low laugh when he felt how wet I was. I heard the sound of foil paper crumpling behind me and tried to brace myself for his length. I didn’t get a chance to take another breath before he slid completely into me, holding me by my waist line. “Let’s see if I can make you cum like this...” He worked himself into a slow grind, alternating his deep thrusts with short kisses against my neck. As I adjusted to his length—hanging on to the table for support and spreading my legs even wider, he moved his hands up to my breasts and palmed them—rough. He pinched my nipples, twisting and pulling them harshly, giving me pain and pleasure at the same time. I cried as his thrusts went even deeper, as he held me firm and prevented me from squirming. “Do you still need your purple friend?” he murmured against my ear. “Does he fuck you better?” “Ahhh...” “Answer me.” I couldn’t. His thrusts were too much. He was starting to speed up and my body was quaking at the unfamiliar sensations. “So you do need him?” he asked again, and I heard the familiar sound of my vibrator humming against my leg.

I tried to answer him, tried to say “NO,” but the next thing I felt was Jonathan holding the vibrator against my clit—on the highest setting. “Pleaseeee...” I cried out. “Please?” He kept holding it right there, simultaneously pounding into me with no mercy. “That’s not what I asked you...” “Oh—Ohhhhh!” I was about to combust—I could feel it. I tried to reach down and push the vibrator away—to ease some of the pressure away, but his hands were way too strong. “Answer me, Claire.” He kissed my neck. “Do you still need your little friend?” “NO...No!” I screamed as my body shuddered and convulsed against him. “No...” I held on to the edge of the table as the last tremors moved through me, as I waited for my heart rate to slow down. I thought that was it, that that was my orgasm for the day (for the year), and that he would let me go so I could recover, but he didn’t. He dropped the vibrator to the floor and started moving into me with a different rhythm—a slower one, and a different set of tremors began to course their way through me. I groaned as he caressed my hips, as he kissed my shoulders—showing me a completely different side of him. I clenched my insides, trying to savor the feeling of the more passionate thrusts, but it was no use. My body gave out once again and I collapsed onto the table, moaning as he pumped into me a few more times to reach his own release. My legs felt numb, wobbly—they weren’t going to hold up much longer. My heart was racing a million miles a minute and my chest was heaving uncontrollably. “Let go of the table, Claire,” Jonathan whispered in my ear. I pried my fingers from the edge one by one and felt myself being pulled down to the floor with him. I didn’t even try to look composed; I sat still, shirtless, with my skirt bunched around my waist. We were both inhaling and exhaling at the same rate, trying to steady our breathing for what felt like an eternity. I looked over at him and noticed that he was staring at me, watching my every breath. I wasn’t sure if I should say something or not, but he reached over and grabbed my hand, softly caressing it as he looked into my eyes. When he saw me reaching for my bra, he grabbed it and slid the straps back over my shoulders. Smiling, he pressed them into place. “Turn around.” I slowly shifted my body and felt him re-snapping the hooks, planting kisses across my back. Once I stopped feeling his lips against my skin, I turned around to find him staring at me again, giving me the same look that started this lusty session. Without breaking gaze with me, he picked up his phone and tapped the screen. “Hello? Angela? Yes. Could you please tell the board that I’m sorry for being late to today’s meeting? Right. Could you tell them I’m on my way? Thank you very much.” He reached over and ran his fingertips along the silver necklace I was wearing, gently tugging the red flag pendant that hung from it. “Silver looks really good on you.” He stood up and walked towards the door. “Um, thank you...I guess I’ll see you la—” I stopped mid-sentence once I realized that he wasn’t walking out of the door; he was shutting it. “You’re not leaving?” “No.” He smiled. “I just thought the door needed to be shut for round two.”

Chapter 8 Claire “Well, someone looks quite refreshed tonight.” Helen laughed. “I wonder why...” “Shut up, Helen.” I rolled my eyes. “How long is this going to take?” “Not long. I told him to meet us here at eight thirty, so he has five more minutes before he’s officially late.” I took a sip of my wine and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Helen and I were meeting with a travel agent to put the final details together for Sandra’s surprise birthday trip. Ever since I’d befriended the two of them, I’d realized that they took their birthdays very seriously. It wasn’t enough to have a simple night on the town or plan a small weekend getaway. Their birthdays needed to be celebrated for at least a week, and staying in the country was never an option. “Good evening, ladies.” A bald man in a black suit walked over to our table. “I’m Henry Thompson from Signature Travel. I understand you wanted to go over the itinerary one last time before purchasing your summer vacation?” “Yes,” we said in unison. “Alright, let’s get started then.” He handed us both a folder. “If you look on page three, that’s where I’ve highlighted the basics. Since this is a surprise for Miss Sandra, we’re going to have the limo pick her up on that Saturday and take her to the airport. Once she’s there, she’ll meet the two of you and—” Helen looked over at me, raising her eyebrow, and then she snapped her fingers at Mr. Thompson. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t doing any air travel. We just want to cruise. That was the whole point of the trip.” “Oh. I wasn’t aware that the entire trip was supposed to be on the ocean, but we can surely arrange that for you. You do know that’ll be an additional two thousand dollars each, right?” He cleared his throat. “If you forfeit the air travel, you’re going to have to take a private cruise-liner to the port in Florida.” I almost choked. “Did you just say two thousand—” “Not a problem,” Helen intervened. “I’m paying for everything anyway. Is there a way you could change what needs to be changed while we’re here so we can sign off on it tonight?” “Sure, there’s an internet café right across the street. Can you give me ten minutes?” Helen nodded and he walked away. “Helen, two thousand dollars in addition to the original three thousand? Each? That’s a bit much don’t you think? I don’t think I’ll be able to afford—” “Get over it, Claire. I said I was paying for everything and we all deserve this trip—especially you. Oh, and guess what the best part is?” “Does it involve men?” “You know me so well. The week we’re going is the same week the Chippendale dancers are having their annual strippers’ retreat! How great is that! You should be bowing in my presence.” “You are a true piece of work, Helen...” I felt my phone vibrate and saw a text message. Jonathan: “Photography room tomorrow. 5:00. You should wear something similar to what you have on right now.”

I paled. He’s here? “Claire?” Helen fanned herself. “Why aren’t you bowing?” “I think Jonathan’s here...I don’t want to turn around. Can you look around and let me know if you see him?” She turned around in her chair and looked all around. “Um, no...I don’t see him. Did he text you or something?” I nodded. “I think I like him already.” She smiled. “You should know that Sandra and I have a running bet on how long this affair will last.” “Do I dare ask what the time limit is?” “I bet at least a year.” “A year? Please. That’s a joke, right?” “Not at all.” She pulled out her phone. “I did some research on him the other day—for your benefit of course. I couldn’t find anything on him before he dropped out of Harvard though...Anyway, he seems like a good match for you, temporarily anyway. His net worth is 9.5 billion, he’s only had two or three known girlfriends; the last one was over a year ago. And—” “I don’t have any prior arrests or embarrassing public incidents on my record.” His voice sounded from right behind me, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “Took the words right out of my mouth...” Helen grinned. “Nice seeing you again, Helen.” He ran his fingers against my bare shoulders. “Same to you, Jonathan. Would you like to sit down with us?” He walked from behind me and smiled. “No thank you. I need to get back upstairs to my meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow, Claire.” He looked me up and down before walking away. “I can’t believe you, Helen!” I shook my head. “You did see him, didn’t you?” “Yeah, but he motioned for me not to say anything.” She laughed. “I am definitely going to win this bet. We have to tell Sandra about this!”

“So team, we have narrowed the sPhone blue slogans down to two contenders. This week we’ll need to meet with the beta team regarding the newest tablets and data projects. We also need to plan our commercial shoots so we can—” I couldn’t focus on anything Mr. Barnes was saying. I was in a state of euphoria and no matter how hard I tried to rejoin my coworkers in the real world, it never happened. Every day for the past two weeks, I’d been having sex with Jonathan after business hours. At first, we were meeting in the photography room, but after the photographers started hosting later meetings, we took things to wherever an empty space was available—stairwells, janitor ’s closets, employee lounges. There were no deep conversations between us, no eye-opening revelations about our lives; it was just sex. Pure, mind blowing, out of this world sex. It was like he knew my body better than I did; I’d never had multiple orgasms in my life. Ever! I’d never thought having so much sex was possible or that sex could be that incredible. I mean, sex with Ryan was “good,” but it never left me getting hot just thinking about it, never left me completely ravaged and on cloud nine for hours after. Jonathan was an Adonis in bed—well, we hadn’t actually had sex in a bed, but he was amazing nonetheless. All it took was once glance from him, one slight brush against my skin after a group meeting, and I was wet and ready to go.

“Miss Gracen? Miss Gracen?” Mr. Barnes shot me a quizzical look. “Yes?” I reluctantly snapped out of my thoughts. “Do you want to introduce the interns’ presentations?” “Certainly, Mr. Barnes.” I stood up and looked around the table. “All the interns were given the task of coming up with a commercial for the sPhone blue with animation. We have two groups that are going to present and they each have ten minutes. At the end of the presentations, we need each of you to send an email to myself and Mr. Barnes about which one you feel will better fit the campaign.” I sat back down and tried not to roll my eyes. While the first group was setting up their presentation, Jonathan walked into the room. “Hello everyone.” He smiled. “You all don’t mind if I sit in for this do you?” There were murmurs of “Not at all,” “Of course,” and “Sure.” He walked around the table and once again took a seat directly in front of me. Mr. Barnes beamed. “Miss Turner, could you please pass Mr. Statham a copy of the power-points please?” She walked towards him, blushing bright red, and handed Jonathan a folder. He nodded his head and smiled at her, making her face turn crimson. The lights dimmed and Jonathan’s eyes immediately met mine across the table. He was giving me his ‘I want you right now’ look, and I couldn’t deal with that right now—not in the middle of the day, not in front of all of my colleagues. I swiveled my chair around and exhaled, watching the first few minutes of a presentation that was shockingly well done. I felt my phone vibrating and opened the text. Jonathan: “Turn back around. Now.” “Only if you agree to stop looking at me. I don’t want other people sensing that we are sleeping together and I can’t focus with you eyeing me...” “I don’t give a fuck what they think. TURN. AROUND.” “Pay attention to the presentation. You might learn something.” I clapped at the end of the first presentation and prepared to take notes on the second, but I received another text from him: “If you don’t turn around within the next sixty seconds, I swear I will walk around this table and fuck you in front of everyone.” My heart fluttered. I figured he had to be bluffing; he wouldn’t risk his reputation on something so reckless and trivial. I kept listening to the interns and writing down my thoughts. “Thirty seconds, Claire...” I stifled a gasp and texted him back. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Try me.” “Alright everyone!” Mr. Barnes said. “Thanks to both intern teams for outstanding work. Directors, make sure you email me and Miss Gracen what you think before you leave for the day. It’s now time for our weekly Zen session, so we need to head on over to the relaxation room.” I closed my notebook and breathed a sigh of relief. I followed my team across the hall and into a room full of tacky sea-colored bean bags. As usual, one of the directors turned off the lights and Mr. Barnes lit the three huge Zen candles that stood at the front of the room. We were supposed to “find” our way to the bean bag that “spoke” to us,” and sit on it for one hour of meditation in the dark. Of course, most of the time people just turned on their music and fell asleep —especially me. I headed towards my secluded spot in the back corner and started to sit down, but I felt Jonathan wrapping his arms around my waist.

Before I could tell him to stop, he bent down and kissed me until I was out of breath. “You’re lucky it’s so dark in here,” he whispered. “Next time I’ll do it in the conference room for everyone to see.” “I—” He kissed me again and pulled me close. “Shhhh. Don’t talk.” “For everyone that doesn’t have their own relaxation music...” Mr. Barnes’ voice was coming from the front of the room. “Please put on the Zen headphones now. I’m going to start playing the ocean music through them in about ten seconds.” “You should probably try to be as quiet as possible.” Jonathan pulled me over to the corner and slid his hands underneath my skirt. He can’t be serious... “Jonathan, stop. This is crazy...” My breath caught in my throat. “Do you know how many people are in here? You wouldn’t—” “You brought this on yourself.” He kissed me and pulled me down onto a beanbag. I tore my mouth away from his and tried to stand up, using my hands to push off from the floor, but he snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “I’m starting the Zen music now,” Mr. Barnes said. “Remember no talking and no cell phone usage please. Oh, and remember to take deep breaths and—” The rest of his sentence came out muffled. I couldn’t focus. Jonathan was kissing me relentlessly—not giving me a chance to pull away. When he’d taken every ounce of breath that I had, he pushed my dress up past my thighs and positioned me to straddle his lap. I heard him unbuckling his pants and un-wrapping a condom, so I tried to get up again, but one of his arms was still tightly snaked around me. “Jonathan...” I whispered. “Think about this. I—” “I have,” he said as he slipped two fingers inside of me. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.” He moved them in and out a few times, and then he brought his mouth close to my ear. “And from the feel of things...You’ve been thinking about it too.” I suppressed a moan as he placed a kiss on my neck, as he tilted me up and slowly lowered me onto his dick. “Ahh...Ahhh...Ahhhhh...” “Shhhh...” He tugged at my bottom lip with his teeth and grabbed my hands, placing them on the wall behind him. “You have to be quiet or they’ll hear us...” “Alright, one last thing everyone.” Mr. Barnes was still talking. “Remember, if anyone is caught talking or if someone’s cell phone goes off, I’ll have to turn on the lights and we’ll have to do the session in the light, without the power of the candles. So, don’t be selfish—the Zen system benefits us all...” I pressed my hands against the wall, exhaling as Jonathan pushed the top of my dress down and drew one of my nipples into his mouth. “Claire...” He rubbed his hands across my back, pulling me close, and then he whispered in my ear, “Move.” I sucked in a breath and rocked against him, trying to not to moan as he rolled his tongue around one of my nipples. He was teasing it gently, matching the same up and down rhythm I was using with my hips. I tried to go as slow as I possibly could—knowing that if I sped up I would end up screaming and everyone would see me grinding against our boss. I exhaled each time I sank down—over and over,

but it must not have been good enough for Jonathan because he suddenly cupped my ass and moved me up and down himself—at a much faster pace. “Ahhh...Godddd...stopppp...” I whispered. “No.” He trapped my bottom lip between his teeth, squeezing my cheeks even harder, bouncing me against him with no finesse. I let out another moan and heard a loud beeping sound from the front of the room—the sound that meant someone was talking; if it went off again, the lights would automatically come on. “So, you’re into other people watching?” Jonathan whispered against my mouth. “I’m not opposed to that...” He pressed his lips against mine and kissed me to prevent me from making another sound. He started flexing himself upwards, still holding and controlling my pace with his hands. I couldn’t take it anymore, I felt an orgasm building inside of me, felt it getting ready to make me scream, so I broke away from Jonathan’s kiss. “I’m...I’m about to...” I murmured. “I’m—” He leaned forward and bit my down on my lips. Hard. My legs started to shake and severe vibrations rippled through my entire body. As the intense pleasure rolled through me, I tried to push myself away from him so I could exhale, scream, breathe —but he didn’t let my mouth go until my body stiffened and stilled. When he was sure I was done, he released my lips and leaned back against the wall. I slumped forward against his chest, panting—too angry to think straight. I sat there, still on top of him, wondering if I was dreaming or if he was really that crazy. “Let me help you.” I heard him say as he gently moved me off of him. “You’re quite the exhibitionist...” He wiped a cloth between my thighs—I assumed it was his suit’s handkerchief, and kissed my forehead as he did it. Then he pulled my dress back over my thighs and ran his fingers through my hair. I heard him zipping his pants up and buckling his belt. I could barely see his face in the darkness, but I could feel him staring at me—like he always did when we were finished. I tried to channel my anger and confusion into something else, anything else, but the ocean sounds and blasting headphone music in the room were way too loud. There were even a few people snoring. “Follow me.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up. He pushed a panel in the wall that was behind us, leading me into a dark room with a wooden conference table. He quietly slid the panel back into place and locked it. “Let’s eat lunch together.” What? He must’ve noticed the look on my face because he smiled. “It’ll only take thirty minutes of your time. The Zen session will be over by then.” I was speechless. I couldn’t believe the nerve of him, to literally fuck me in a room full of my closest colleagues and then have the audacity to suggest lunch. “I’ll have our lunch brought in here.” He started drawing the blinds open. “What do you want to eat?” I didn’t answer. “Claire?” He turned around. “You know I’m not a huge fan of unanswered questions...” “A grilled chicken salad, hold the sex please.” He laughed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Does every room at Statham Industries have a secret hidden passage?” I asked. “No, not all of them, just the executive ones. They’re more of a fire safety measure, but they clearly come in handy for other things...” I rolled my eyes and sat at the table.

“Angela? Could you have someone bring me two grilled chicken salads and two sweet teas to the executive en-suite on level twenty-four? You’re the best. Thanks.” He sat across from me. “The door to your left leads out into the hallway by the way.” “Duly noted...” “Are you upset with me?” “I don’t know what I am. I’m not sure how I should feel after being fucked in front of all my coworkers.” “Elated, maybe?” “There are a lot of words that come to mind. That definitely isn’t one of them.” “Well, next time just turn around. I’m sure no one saw anything. Most of them were falling asleep...Can I ask you something?” “Go ahead...” “Do you ever do the dating thing or do you just stand people up whenever they ask you out?” “I don’t do the dating thing.” “Why not?” I shrugged. “I don’t want to be disappointed again, if you know what I mean...” I started thinking about Ryan and immediately steered the conversation away. “Do you do the dating thing?” “I’ve been trying to...The woman I’m currently after is the most difficult woman I’ve ever pursued.” “She’s probably out of your league. Why don’t you just date a supermodel?” “Not interested. I’ve done that before.” Oh...“Well, why not an actress?” There was a knock at the door. “I did that before too...There’s not much substance in any of those women honestly, but I can’t really blame them. They become just like everyone else in the industry.” He opened the door and retrieved our lunch. As he carried the boxes back over to the table, he looked at me. “I know this is random, but I’ve been meaning to ask you this: Do you have a fascination with white and red flags?” “What?” “Your necklaces and the charm bracelets you wear. All of them have white and red triangle flags.” “Oh...No, I wouldn’t call it a fascination. I just like flags.” “Interesting...” He passed me my salad and tea, and the two of us ate in complete silence. Every now and then, I would look up at him and he would smile. Despite the fact that I was upset with him for what he’d pulled minutes ago, I couldn’t help but smile back. It was strange for me to actually enjoy being around someone in silence, but he and I slipped into silence all the time. With anyone else it usually felt boring or awkward, but with him it always felt natural. “Thank you for lunch.” I stood up once I was done. “It was very sweet of you, but we’re not doing it again.” “Why not?” “Because whatever this is between you and I is strictly physical. I get mine and you get yours. That’s it.” “Okay, Claire.” He smirked. “I mean it.” I put on my best non-negotiable face. “This is strictly about sex.” “I’m not doubting you, but if you keep standing there and looking at me like that, you may not make it back downstairs.” I rolled my eyes and walked out of the room.

Monday was the best and worst day of the week: “Best” because it meant that after a weekend without any sex, it was finally going to start up again. “Worst” because Mr. Barnes insisted on scheduling the bulk of our meetings and presentations on that day. However, this particular Monday was worse than usual because I didn’t get one second to relax over the weekend. I spent my entire Saturday standing on the Golden Gate Bridge, shooting three different versions of the sPhone blue commercial: We did take after take after take, and once it was finally perfected, the director realized he’d been shooting with the wrong camera, so we had to do it all over again. On Sunday, my team and I spent eighteen hours going through stock footage, trying to come up with promotion strategies for Statham Industries’ newest product: the sTablet. By the time I arrived to work on Monday, I was a walking zombie. I sat through endless meetings —intern contracts, publicity revamps, beta research, et cetera, et cetera. I didn’t bother taking a lunch break because two clients requested me at the last minute to help with their pitches. When my last meeting was over, I was completely slammed. I tried drinking a few cups of coffee to perk myself up, but there was no effect whatsoever. It wasn’t until a little after five when I noticed a text Jonathan had sent hours ago: “My secretary went home early so we can use my office today...You can come up whenever you like.” I packed all my things away and freshened myself up in the bathroom, hoping that a few hours with him would be all I needed to gain some energy. I took the elevator up to the top floor and knocked. “Good afternoon, Claire.” He opened the door and ushered me inside. I looked around his office and tried not to seem utterly impressed. It was ten times the size of my office and there were doors that led to other rooms on all four walls. On the wall to my right was a floor to ceiling bookcase that was filled with hardcover books. To my left, was a projector screen that covered the entire wall and a seating area for ten. His massive metal desk was centered in front of the floor to ceiling windows, and there was a huge white luxury sofa in the corner. He put his hands on my shoulders and raised his eyebrow. “Are you feeling okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” “Hmmm. No reason.” He led me over to the sofa and sat down next to me. He held my face in his hands and looked deep into my eyes before kissing me. I thought he was going to take off my clothes or lay me against the couch, but he pulled me into his lap and began massaging my shoulders. “How was your day today?” he asked. “It was ahhh...It was okay...” I murmured. “And how did your promo shoots go over the weekend?” “Ahhh...Good. Very good.” I closed my eyes, focusing on the soft rhythm of his hands, and then everything went black.

I felt fingers running through my hair, a hand caressing my face. I opened my eyes and realized I was lying in Jonathan’s lap.

I fell asleep?! “Is sex with me that boring?” He looked down at me and smiled. “You can tell me, you know. We can work on it.” “I’m sorry. I’m just really exhausted and I—” “No need to apologize. I knew you were tired when you came in...Turn over.” I groggily rolled over and he started massaging my back. “Long day?” “Long weekend...I think I’ve had seven hours of sleep over the past three days. Promo sweeps are the worst part of being a marketing director because the clients expect so much. We were on the bridge all day Saturday and here all day yesterday...It probably didn’t help that we kept ordering takeout food every three hours...” “You should’ve called me. I would’ve had a chef team stationed here for you all.” “You wouldn’t have done that.” I exhaled as he pressed his palms into my back. This feels so good... “I would have, especially if I had known you were here.” “Good to know, but ‘calling you’ and ‘talking to you on the phone’ fall outside of the strictly sex rule. Remember?” “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with us talking on the phone, Claire. As a matter of fact, I’m going to call you tomorrow night, and you’re going to answer.” “I’ll think about it.” I heard him laugh, and then I felt his hands move further down my back. “I think you should call in sick tomorrow and get some rest,” he said. “So you can show up to my house uninvited?” “No.” He planted a kiss on the back of my shoulder. “It’s because you really need to catch up on your sleep. You’re no good to the company if you’re this exhausted.” “Oh...Well, I’ll consider that.” “Good.”

Chapter 9 Jonathan My secretary called my line. “Mr. Statham?” “Yes?” “Your mother is here for lunch sir.” “Send her in please.” Seconds later, my mother came into my office wearing a pale gray suit. Her make-up was done to perfection, and it looked like she’d been taking care of herself—for all of one month. Her light blue eyes still looked as clear and optimistic as they did on her graduation day, but I wasn’t getting my hopes up. She’d relapsed way too many times for me to actually believe she’d change. She sat down at the desk and my eyes veered towards the small box that was protruding from her jacket. “I thought you said you quit smoking.” I sighed. “Yeah, crystal meth, not cigarettes. They’re practically harmless.” I shook my head and grabbed the cigarettes out of her pocket. “Dropping one bad habit for another isn’t the best idea. Do you want me to buy you some nicotine patches?” “Why would I want that, Jonathan?” “So you can stop killing yourself and live to see sixty.” “Oh, you’re a health expert now? I guess being a billionaire makes you think you know everything, huh?” “Everyone knows smoking is bad for you. It’s on the damn box.” I should’ve never agreed to this... “But it’s even worse for a former meth head right? I bet me being here embarrasses the hell out you. Doesn’t it? I bet you don’t want any of your rich little friends to see that your drugged out mommy is once again fresh out of rehab and—” “Okay, just stop. Stop right now.” I shook my head. “I agreed to meet with you once a week for your benefit. Not mine. So, if you plan on coming up here to make me feel guilty about being successful, you’re wasting your time...We should just try this again next week.” “What?” She looked hurt. “You want me to leave?” “Yes. Now.” “I’m...I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to say any of that. It’s just that sometimes I’m so out of it because I don’t have a real outlet anymore and...I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I—” “It’s okay. We’ll just try again next week.” I walked over and hugged her. “We need to do this right if we’re going to do it at all. I don’t want to be frustrated with you, and I don’t want you frustrated with me. Just leave the cigarettes in your car next time.” She gave me a half smile. “Okay...I’ll see you next week.” I walked her out of my office and hit the elevator button for her. As soon as she was gone, I crashed behind my desk and held my head in my hands. My mother was the only person who could get under my skin in a matter of seconds. No matter how hard I tried to be polite, how hard I tried to be helpful, she always had something negative to say —as if I was the one who ruined her life.

She’d done that to herself and I was still extremely angry with her for not realizing that. I often wondered why she couldn’t have been a normal mother who actually gave a shit about her kids, one who helped with homework and actually made dinner from time to time. Instead, my mother —and my father, were passed out high most of the time, leaving me and my little sister starving; forcing me to go dumpster diving late at night for my neighbors’ leftovers. I’d wasted way too many years worrying about my parents and I refused to let them get to me anymore. I had other things on my plate, like Claire Gracen. She was the most difficult woman I’d ever come across, and usually when a woman frustrated me, I moved on to another one. But Claire was different. On the one hand, she exuded this air of confidence that made everyone else in the room disappear, that made it impossible for me to focus on anything else that was going on. She also seemed to become more gorgeous each and every time I saw her—something I didn’t even know was possible. And the sex was absolutely phenomenal—I didn’t think I would ever get enough. Yet, that was the only time in which she was somewhat open with me. She was extremely guarded in regular conversation, as if she were carefully measuring each of her words. Anytime she was on the verge of saying something remotely personal, she cut herself off and completely shut down. Of course, I hadn’t been that open with her either, but I’d always thought that women were more eager to share parts of themselves. I opened the drawer at the bottom of my desk and pulled out the basic background file I’d asked Corey to make for me: Divorced four years ago. Marital tax records for fourteen years. Two daughters—Ashley Gracen and Caroline Gracen. Over one hundred thousand dollars in debt. Independent voting record. Parking ticket from last Saturday. Normally, I would ask him to run a complete background check—to run her name through every single database he could hack into, but I decided against it. For the first time, I wanted to see if I could find out everything about a woman on my own for a change.

“Ohhh goddd...Ohhh goddd...I’m....I’m going to cum...I—I’m...” Claire rocked against me a few more times and collapsed into my arms, breathing heavily. Both of our chests rose and fell together, and we lay intertwined on the floor of my office for several minutes. She’s definitely the best I’ve ever had... She rolled off me and I slowly sat up. I moved her skirt back over her hips and snapped the clasps back together. I slid her shirt back over her arms and started re-fastening the buttons. Once I reached the last button, I ran my fingers across her silver necklace. I was starting to keep count; she had at least ten different ones that all featured the same white and red flags. “You sure you don’t want to eat with me?” I zipped my pants. “I don’t think it’s considered lunch if everyone has gone home for the day.” She smiled. “It definitely is, so no. Thank you for the offer though.” “Okay. I’ll go pay for the Chinese food, and when I get back I’ll walk you down to the garage.” As soon as I stepped outside my office, I saw Mr. Barnes and ten other staff members lying face up on the floor. “What the...” “Oh! Mr. Statham!” Mr. Barnes stood up and shook my hand. “I didn’t realize you would be here so late today.” “What are you all doing?”

“We’re following the advice of chapter seven in our Zen book. It says that sometimes it’s good to get energy from those who have been successful. So, we’re doing our Zen exercises right in front of your office. We’re trying to get some of your aura to rub off on us.” I am never hiring another motivational speaker...“That sounds... really interesting. Do you need anything from me?” “No, not unless you want to join us. It might work even better if the source of inspiration is in our circle.” “Maybe next time.” I tried not to laugh. “I have some work to finish.” “Understandable.” He lay back down on the floor and shut his eyes. I walked out into the hallway and paid for the Chinese food, trying not to step on any of the crazed associates on my way back to the office. “Okay. I’m ready.” Claire walked past me and I grabbed her by the waist. “We can’t leave right now.” “What? Why not?” “Because your coworkers are out there doing Zen rituals. They’re trying to soak up my aura or something. Would you like to go out there and join them?” “Are you kidding me?” She walked over to the door and peered through the blinds. “Idiots...Wait, does that mean that they could hear us?” She paled. “Doubt it. The office is soundproof... I guess you have no choice but to eat with me today. I ordered for two.” “Of course you did.” She took a brown bag from me. As usual, we slipped into a state of silence, a familiar comforting silence. Even though it was enjoyable, I felt like we needed to break that routine today. We needed to be able to talk in person. I cleared my throat. “Why aren’t you taking the Zen book as seriously as they are?” “I only read books with substance.” “I had to put it down after five pages myself.” I laughed. “I have no idea what that guy was talking about.” “Then why did you pay him two million dollars?” “Politics. Plus it’s a good tax write off.” “Oh. Here I was thinking that you actually cared about boosting employee morale. How inspiring.” “Careful, Claire. I’m easily aroused by sarcasm.” I watched her face turn bright red. “Are you currently reading any books with substance?” “In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. My daughters are reading it for English class so I decided to read it with them.” I felt a pang in my chest. “Family book club? Do you all have family meetings and things like that too?” “Yeah.” She sliced her eggroll. “We have family meetings every other Tuesday and I try to take them on a trip every summer.” “Why?” “It’s just something my mom used to do for me when I was growing up and I want them to experience it too. I mean, the trips aren’t extravagant or anything—mostly road-trips, but they’re usually really fun. Did your family do trips?” My “family” didn’t do anything... I shook my head. “No, not really. Where are you taking them this summer?” “I want to take them on a cruise in June, but it’ll probably have to wait until August.” “Because of your job?”

“No, because I’m not rich and I actually have to save money to do the things I want.” She smiled. “Plus, I’m trying to put a plan together to pay off my student loans, my mortgage, and—Sorry. I know you don’t care about this stuff. I should—” “How much do you have left to pay off?” “I can’t go there...I’m embarrassed to say it aloud.” “Don’t be. Tell me.” She sighed. “I owe fifty four thousand dollars in student loans and one hundred thousand dollars on my house...I was being optimistic when I said I’d be able to pay it off. I’ll probably be sixty by then.” “Will you still be working here with me?” “Ha! Please!” She laughed and walked over to the door. I followed her and saw that her team was now doing meditative yoga on top of yellow mats. Mr. Barnes appeared to be reading off a list of exercises. “How long do you think they’ll be out there?” She sighed. “Probably another hour or so.” I walked over to my desk and grabbed my jacket. “Come on, I’ll walk you down to the garage.” “What! Are you crazy? We’re just going to walk out there and pray that they won’t see us? That they won’t think us being together after-hours is suspicious?” I laughed. “Of course not. I have a private elevator.” “Are you serious?! You knew that the entire time?”

Chapter 10 Claire “Claire, is there a directors’ meeting today?” “No. I don’t think so.” I texted Jonathan back. “Are you sure?” “Yes, I’m one hundred percent sure. We’re only working with the beta team today.” There definitely was a directors’ meeting today, but I didn’t want to tell him that. The last time we were together in his office, he’d mentioned wanting to have sex in the conference room right after a meeting. I thought that was way too risky and way too bold. I was still trying to get over the ‘relaxation room’ incident and I didn’t want to do anything that could get us caught by my coworkers. “Claire, could you help me set up for our meeting today?” Mr. Barnes handed me a box of poster boards. “We’re going to keep things simple today and use these.” I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d been spending so much time with him on our latest campaigns, or if constant sex with Jonathan made me more tolerant of people, but Mr. Barnes was becoming less annoying by the day. He was still overly enthusiastic and in need of severe “diversity training,” but for the first time in all my years at Statham Industries, I was learning to appreciate him. I carried the posters into the conference room and saw that Jonathan was sitting alone at the table. “Good afternoon, Miss Gracen. I hope I’m not too early for the directors’ meeting today.” “Not at all.” Mr. Barnes came in after me. “You’re right on time. We’re going to start in about ten minutes.” Shit... Jonathan smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Barnes, just out of curiosity, was this meeting planned or did you spontaneously decide to have it a few minutes ago?” “Oh no, it’s been planned for about three months now. We always meet on Thursdays whenever we get a memo about a new product.” “Thanks for telling me that.” Jonathan gave me one of his lusty smiles. “I’ll have to keep that in mind from now on.” I turned away from him and started setting up the poster boards for the brainstorming session. I could feel him watching me—making my body react against my will. As other people began to fill the room, I took a seat at the end of the table. Far away from him. I thought he would text me during the meeting, so I kept checking my phone, but it never vibrated. In fact, he never even looked my way. When the meeting was over, he began chatting with Mr. Barnes so I plotted my escape. I said goodbye to a few directors, gathered up the poster boards, and left the room. I didn’t want to take the elevators—Jonathan could definitely get to me in there, so I walked down ten flights of steps to get back to my office. I unlocked the door and hit the lights, exhaling. Then I turned around and saw him sitting at my desk, grinning. I don’t have to explain myself to you...

I set the box of posters on my cabinet and started organizing my files, acting like he wasn’t in the room. As I was alphabetizing my associates’ letters, I felt him wrapping his arms around me. “You lied to me.” He sounded amused. “So?” He loosened his grip and spun me around. “So?” “Yes...So?” He looked at me for a long time, letting his eyes roam over my body. He took several steps towards me, backing me against the wall. “I’m going to make you regret that when you least expect it.” He kissed my lips. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Don’t call him....Don’t call him... It was midnight. I was lying in bed, counting the number of cracks in my ceiling, trying to keep my mind off Jonathan. I’d tried my best to resist liking him, but I couldn’t help it. We’d been having sex for almost two months, talking on the phone every now and then, and texting each other at work. Yet, it wasn’t those things that made my heart flutter; it was the small intimate things he did. Since I refused to eat lunch with him, he had whatever I wanted delivered to my office and called me during my break so that we could “technically” eat lunch together. He insisted on kissing me before and after sex—not the hungry, savage, ‘devouring-you-rightnow’ kisses; the sensual, open-mouthed, ‘I-can’t-get-enough-of-you’ kisses. He called me “beautiful” every chance he could, and he always asked me out on a date, even though I turned him down every time. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that our affair would last, it was only temporary—a meaningless fling. It was only a matter of time before a younger woman, a woman who would immediately say yes to going out with him, would catch his eye. I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying the newfound attention and the undeniable ego boost, but I was hoping he would find someone else soon. I needed to come back to my senses and stop behaving like some sex-crazed teenager. Stop thinking about him, Claire. Stop thinking about— My phone rang. Him. I didn’t let it ring more than once before answering it. “Hello?” “Hello, Claire. You’re up late tonight.” “I have to be. I’m in the middle of doing some very important—” “You’re in bed aren’t you?” Ugh. “Yes...” He laughed. “And the lies just keep coming, don’t they? Don’t even think I’ve forgotten about your first lie. I’m still going to get you back for that.” My heart skipped a beat. “What are you doing?” “I’m still at the office. I think I’m going to have to spend the night here. It’s been a busy week and I can’t keep up with all the paperwork.” “More contracts?” “Exactly. When a company’s about to go public, everyone wants to jump on the bandwagon. It’s a good thing for us economically, but it’s extremely stressful.” “I can’t imagine...I’m sure you’ll—” “You should come over.”

“What? I don’t think so. This afternoon was more than enough. I’ll see you on Monday.” “We don’t have to have sex, Claire. We can just talk.” “Talk?” “Yes. What we’re doing right now, except in person.” “Um...No thanks. That’s a forty minute drive for me so—” “My driver is outside your house with a town car.” What! I jumped out of bed and peered through my blinds. Sure enough, there was a driver standing in front of a black luxury car. “What’s your next excuse? And don’t say your daughters because you told me last week that they drive themselves to work on the weekends.” “I...” “You know you want to come—no pun intended.” Damnit...“I’ll have to think about it for a while and get back to you.” “See you soon.” He laughed and hung up. I rushed into my bathroom and brushed a light layer of foundation on my face. I threw on a pair of black slacks and a purple blouse and headed outside. “Good evening, Miss Gracen.” The driver greeted me as I approached the car. His driver knows my name? “Good evening. Thank you for the ride...” “Anything for Mr. Statham,” he said as he shut my door. As the car sped through the city, I realized how beautiful San Francisco was at night—all the lights from the downtown skyline were shining brightly and most of the streets were clear. The car came to a stop forty minutes later and I heard the driver say, “We’ve arrived Mr. Statham...Yes, of course.” He stepped out of the car and walked around to my door. “This way, Miss Gracen.” Holding out his arm, he walked me into the basement of Statham Industries. He led me over to the private elevator and hit “JS.” As we rode to the top floor, he kept his eyes forward and I could see him slightly smiling. When the doors slid open, Jonathan was standing in front of me wearing a muscle shirt and workout pants. It looked like he’d just taken a shower; his hair was still wet and I could see small damp traces on his shirt. Why does he always look so good? “Thank you, Greg.” Jonathan reached for my hand and walked me into his office. “Would you like something to drink, Claire?” “No thank you...Is your driver always at your beck and call?” “Several people are always at my beck and call.” He smiled. “I would’ve come with him to pick you up, but I promised we wouldn’t have sex, so I thought staying here was the better decision.” “You honestly think I would’ve had sex with you while your driver was in the car with us?” He didn’t answer. He just looked at me and smirked. “Come with me. I’m doing my work in here.” He motioned for me to follow him through three different doors, into an elegant living room that looked like it belonged in a mansion—not a corporate office. “This is a well-designed room...” “A rare compliment. I’ll have to type that up and get it framed.” He looked over my clothes. “Is that what you normally wear to sleep?” “Why does it matter? I’m not here to spend the night. I’m just here to—”

“Wait here.” He disappeared into a side room and came back minutes later. “You can wear these.” He handed me a pair of red flannel pants and a black muscle shirt. “You keep a stash of clothes for all your sleepovers with female employees?” “Claire, Claire, Claire...” He sighed. “Number one, they’re my pajamas and I’ve never shared them with anyone before. Number two, you are my first sleepover guest at corporate. Period. And number three, I told you that we weren’t going to have sex tonight, but if you keep up your sarcasm, you’ll be bent over my desk in a matter of seconds.” I bit my lip to prevent myself from smiling. “Where’s your bathroom?” “Down the hall and to the right.” I walked away and locked myself into the most opulent bathroom I’d ever seen. It was huge: There was a marbled Jacuzzi in the corner, a glass shower that took up half the room, and double sinks with shiny golden fixtures that reflected against the wall length mirrors. When I stepped back into the living room, the couch had been transformed into a bed and Jonathan was tossing pillows onto it. “Do you stay late often?” I asked. “I try not to. I prefer to be at home, but days like this force me to every now and then.” “Interesting...Can your driver take me back home in an hour?” He rolled his eyes. “Get in the bed, Claire.” “Not until you answer me.” I mocked his voice. “Or are you the only one who doesn’t have to answer questions?” He walked over and scooped me into his arms. “Exactly,” he said as he tossed me onto the bed. “The remote is on the coffee table to your left. I’m going to read the rest of this document and then I’ll join you.” I wasn’t sure why my heart started dancing at his last words—‘I’ll join you’—but I didn’t try to stop it this time. I watched him walk over to his desk and pick up a folder; he was soon lost in whatever he was reading. I flipped through the channels and settled on a home renovation show. The hosts were gutting a fifties’ style galley kitchen and transforming it into a more modern one—complete with an island, a breakfast bar, and granite countertops. While I admired their effort, I hated that they were taking so much of the home’s original character away; they could’ve at least saved the cabinets and refurbished them. “This is the best show you could find?” Jonathan slid into bed facing me. “I love these shows. Those designers are living my dream.” “So why are you working here? Why not quit and pursue what you really want to do?” “Do you know what the word ‘debt’ means?” He pulled me close. “I wasn’t always rich...I’m just wondering why you’ve been in marketing so long if it isn’t what you really want to do.” “My dreams had to be put on hold once I had kids...It wasn’t about me anymore. I had to do what was best for them. And I—” Do not do this...Do not open up...This is not what you want... “I just had to do what was best for them.” I sighed. “Do you have any children? Siblings?” “I think you would know if I had kids by now...” He sounded confused. “I do have a little sister though.” “Oh...I had a sister once. Does your sister work here with you?” “No, she’s in grad school in Memphis.” He pulled me even closer so that I was nuzzled against his chest. “Were you sleeping when I called you earlier?” “What do you mean, ‘was I sleeping’?”

“Were you sleeping or were you thinking about something?” “Yes. I was thinking about sleeping.” He laughed. “What time do you have to get up in the morning?” “Eight...Are we really about to go to sleep together? You’re not going to try to do anything?” He stared at me for several seconds, looking like he wanted to say something, something witty. Instead he planted a soft kiss on my lips and turned off the lights. He rolled me over so my back was against his chest, and then he held me in his arms.

I woke up entwined in Jonathan’s arms and noticed that he was watching me. “Morning.” He smiled. “Morning. What time is it?” “Seven. Would you like to get breakfast together or have some delivered before you leave?” “No thank you.” I slid out of his arms and sat up. “I have a bunch of errands to run so I’ll get a head start on those.” “Of course. Are you going to Mr. Barnes’ Zen session tonight?” “On a Saturday? Never. My mom claims that she has a surprise for me so we’re probably going to the opera together. That’s what all her surprises are, and I’m sure she’ll want to get there two hours early.” “Why would she want to do that? They don’t open the theatre until an hour before the show.” “Don’t ask. She’s the eccentric type.” He smiled and tilted his head to the side. “Should I give up on getting you to willingly go out with me?” “Probably.” I tried not to smile and headed for the bathroom.

I managed to get out of the salon early, finish grocery shopping, balance my checkbook, sift through a few campaign documents, and stop by my daughters’ cheerleading car wash—all before six in the afternoon. As soon as I was home, I searched through my closet for an outfit to wear tonight. My mom always suggested that I dress “for the Oscars” when we went to the opera, just in case the city newspaper decided to run our photo the next day. I decided to wear my favorite black and silver evening dress. It was long, strapless and perfectly hugged my hips. There was also a fairly deep slit on the left side, a perfect complement to the opentoed shoes I planned to wear. I carefully brushed on my makeup and ran my fingers through my curls. I secured the glittery diamond bracelet Jonathan had given to me for my birthday onto my wrist, and rushed out of my house.

“Mom! Mom! I’m here!” I stepped inside her house and shouted up the steps. “We have to leave in the next twenty minutes if you want to—” I noticed a blond-haired man standing in the middle of the room. “Who are you?” “Wow...” He looked me over. “I’m Michael Clarkson. I’m—” “He’s your date for tonight!” My mom turned the corner. “Remember? Michael, you can wait in the living room. I need to talk to Claire for a second.”

I didn’t bother waiting for him to step away. I grabbed her by the hand and dragged her into the kitchen. “Mom, what’s going on? I thought we were going to the opera. I never agreed to—” “Surprise! See? I am capable of being spontaneous,” she said. “The girls told me how you’ve been working so many late hours over the past couple months, so I thought this would be a good way to get you out.” Jesus... “Mother, last time I checked, I was an adult. I don’t need you intervening in my life and I don’t need—” “Yes, you do. You deserve to find someone else, someone who will treat you right. I liked Ryan a lot, but you can do much better. It’s never too late to find love again, and I don’t want you to end up alone...like me...” I rolled my eyes at her not-so-subtle sympathy plea. “Who is he?” “He’s my doctor—my gynecologist actually.” “What!” “Don’t worry. It’s not what you think. He’s not my direct doctor. He actually owns the practice, so for the most part he just analyzes the bacterial slides and—” “Thank you. I’ve heard enough. You were at your doctor ’s office and you told him you had a sad and depressed daughter who needed a new man in her life?” “No, I didn’t tell him any of that. I just said you should get to know my daughter. She’s beautiful and charming. That’s all it took...He’s forty five, doesn’t have any kids, has a few investment properties on the East Coast, and he’s a doctor. Enough said. You should get to know him.” “I can’t believe this...” “Believe it!” She pulled me back into the living room. “Michael, Claire, you two go and have a great night together,” she said, smiling at the two of us. “I’m sure you have a lot to talk about so...” She darted her eyes towards the front door. “Have a good evening, Miss Gracen.” Michael gave her a hug and reached for my hand. “Are you ready?”

I buckled myself into Michael’s Mercedes and noticed that his name was engraved on the dashboard’s wood paneling. He revved up the car and smiled. “I think your mom calling you ‘beautiful’ may be the biggest understatement I’ve ever heard.” I smiled and leaned back in the seat, stealing a glance of him whenever I had the chance. He was strikingly handsome—sexy actually. His honey colored hair was gleaming in the sunlight and his big brown eyes seemed to sparkle whenever he turned to look at me. From the way his black suit fit his body, I could tell that he worked out, that he kept himself in excellent shape. Yet, despite his good looks and radiating charm, I didn’t feel any sparks between us. Then again, I’d just met him. We didn’t talk much on the ride over, except for commenting on whatever song was playing on the radio. The long stretches of silence were quite awkward—even more awkward whenever our eyes met and we both clumsily smiled and turned away.

The waiter set two glasses of white wine on the table and walked away.

“So...” Michael looked at me. “What do you do for a living, Claire?” “I work at Statham Industries as a marketing director.” “Do you like it?” “No, but it pays the bills. I’m stuck there until I find something else. You’re a doctor, right?” “I am.” He smiled. “I used to work at the children’s hospital downtown, but I decided to return to my original specialty and work for myself.” “You don’t miss the kids?” “Sometimes. I don’t miss the crying though.” He laughed and took a sip of his wine. I picked up a knife and started to slice a piece of bread, but I underestimated its hardness and cut the top of my hand. Ugh...“This is going to sound so cliché...” I sighed. “But do you happen to carry Band-Aids with you?” Laughing, he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and thumbed through it. “You don’t mind Batman do you? I still carry the kid ones around; it’s an old habit.” “No, that’s perfectly fine.” “Here,” he said as he reached for my hand. “Let me see.” As he was holding my hand and putting on the Band-Aid, I felt my skin tingling and my heart somersaulting in my chest. But it wasn’t because of Michael’s touch, or the soft kiss he was now placing on my wrist; I only felt those type of feelings when Jonathan was around, when I could sense him watching me. I looked up and saw him standing at a table five spaces over. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and all the other people at his table were dressed in light blue suits with “sPhone launch” etched across the back. Our eyes met and I felt that electrical spark I’d never felt with anyone else, that passionate jolt that took a hold of me and wouldn’t let go. He raised his eyebrow as he sat down at his table, looking back and forth between me and Michael. “Claire?” Michael rubbed my hand and forced me to turn away. “Claire?” “I’m so sorry. What were you saying?” “I’m all done with your Band-Aid.” He released my hand. “What do you like to do when you’re not working?” Have sex with Jonathan Statham... “I like to watch movies, run, and—” “You run? How often?” “A least five times a week in the morning. Four, if it’s a really hectic week.” “I run too. Maybe we could go on a run sometime together?” “That’d be—” I felt my phone vibrating. “Great. We should definitely do that. I apologize in advance for pulling out my phone. It’s probably my mother.” “Probably. She texted me three minutes ago.” He laughed. “Really? About what?” “She just asked how our night was going.” “What you’d say?” “Amazing.” His deep brown eyes lit up as he smiled—making him look even more gorgeous, but I felt no attraction to him whatsoever. “I wasn’t aware that your “mom” was a “man”...You two look nothing alike.” Jonathan. I tried not to laugh. “What do you like to do when you’re not working, Michael?” “I like to go rock climbing, visit car shows, and remodel old homes in the—” “I love remodeling.” He cocked his head to the side. “You’re joking with me, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m serious. I get a huge adrenaline rush whenever I’m in a hardware store or near a construction site. I can’t really explain it, but if I could ever do that for a living...” “I’m part of a home improvement group that does projects every other Saturday. Would you be interested in joining?” “Extremely.” My phone was vibrating again. “I would love that.” “Is he a long lost friend?” Jonathan. “None of your business.” I texted back. Our waitress appeared and set down our dinner—a beautiful array of exotic shellfish and pasta. I wasn’t the biggest fan of seafood, but the scallops and oysters looked too delicious to pass up. “Ask him if he likes your bracelet.” Jonathan. I tossed my phone into my purse and picked up a fork. “I like your bracelet.” Michael looked at my wrist. “Is it a Harry Winston? My colleague’s wife has a similar one...It’s a lot smaller though.” It couldn’t be a Harry Winston... “Um, I’m not sure what it is. It was a gift from a friend. It came in a blank black box...” “Pretty generous friend.” He raised his eyebrow. “Are you enjoying the food?” “Yes, it’s really good.” I swallowed a forkful of shrimp. “My friend is the manager here. We can come back any time you like, even if they’re booked for the night.” “Sounds great.” I put my fork down. “Would you please excuse me for one second?” “Of course.” Like the gentleman that he was, he walked over and helped me out of my chair. “I’ll be right back, Michael.” I made my way into the women’s restroom and locked myself into a stall. I pulled out my phone and logged into the Harry Winston website, scrolling down their gallery of bracelet images. Then I spotted the one that was just like mine...It was at the bottom of the page, near the bracelets that said “By appointment only.” I clicked on the picture and read through the details: “an open lattice bracelet set in platinum with three hundred and forty small round diamonds.” I wasn’t going to click on the picture to reveal the price, but I had to know: One hundred thousand dollars. I gasped, holding my jeweled arm in front of my face—trying to comprehend why Jonathan would give me something so extravagant. We barely knew each other when he gave this to me... I unlocked the stall’s door, ready to walk out, but Jonathan stepped inside and slammed it shut. “Are you on a date right now?” he said through clenched teeth. “Clearly.” “Is it going well?” “It’d be going a whole lot better if you weren’t holding me hostage in the bathroom...” “I thought you said you didn’t do the dating thing.” His eyes hardened. “I guess I changed my mind. Is that a crime, Jonathan? Are you going to report me to someone?” He narrowed his eyes and stepped right in front of me, breathing slow and steady breaths— making my heart race uncontrollably. “Let me get this straight.” His eyes were blazing. “I’m good enough for you to fuck, but I’m not good enough for you to go out with me? Not even once?” “Glad to see you finally saw the light!” I tried to move past him, but he slammed both of his hands against the wall, on both sides of my head.

“I’m just one of your little sex toys?” He hissed. “Yes, except unfortunately you talk back and I can’t turn you off. Can you please get out of my way?” “No.” He looked like he wanted to rip me to pieces, like he wanted to slap me into another world. “Jonathan, please stop being childish. You and I have meaningless sex. That’s it. There’s nothing more to it. I’m sorry if you’ve started to like me, but I don’t like you—at least not in that way. I don’t think about you at night, you don’t cross my mind throughout the day, and I just use you for some much needed stress relief, so if you could just—” He pushed me against the wall and forced his lips on top of mine, kissing me so hard I could barely breathe. He slid his hand underneath the slit of my dress—running his hands across my thighs. Then he twisted my panties and ripped them off. “Jonathan—” “Shut up.” He lifted my leg and hooked it around his waist. “Put your arms around my neck.” “Jona—” “I’m not going to ask you again.” I placed my arms around his neck and heard him unzipping his pants. “You don’t think about me when you’re alone in bed at night?” He looked into my eyes. “No, I—” I suddenly felt his dick slamming into me, knocking my body against the wall. I tried to unhook my leg from around him, but he cupped my ass and held me steady. “I never cross your mind during the day?” he whispered harshly. “Never.” He slammed into me again—over and over, making me scream so loudly I was sure the other people in the restaurant could hear me. He grunted as he squeezed my ass and impaled me—going deeper and deeper with every stroke. I clawed wildly at his neck, wanting him to stop this passionate torture, but I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘stop’; it felt way too good. He yanked the top part of my dress down and began kissing my hardened nipples—sucking them greedily, nearly sending me over the edge. I was sure I was going to cum right then and there, but all of a sudden he pulled out. “You honestly only use me for stress relief?” He teased my entrance with his dick, circling it around and around. I didn’t answer him. I looked down and tried to catch my breath, tried to gain back the resolve he’d so easily broken. “Answer me.” He pulled me by my hair and forced me to look up at him. “Yes...You’re nothing but stress relief...” And with that answer he plunged into me even deeper. “Why are you lying to me, Claire?” “I’m...I’m not...” I couldn’t focus anymore; he was moving in and out of me at a teasingly slow pace, hitting every tender spot. “I’m not lying...” He reached down and wrapped my other leg around his waist, gazing into my eyes as he gripped my hips and moved me up and down. “Claire? Claire?” Michael’s voice sounded from the other side of the room. “Are you in here?” “Yes...” I felt Jonathan increasing his rhythm, gripping me even tighter. “Are you alright? Did the food upset you or something?” “No...I’m...” Tremors started racking through my body and my hips began to jerk. “I’m....I’m...” “What did you say? I can’t hear you, Claire. Are you allergic to shellfish?” “I’m...” My entire body shook violently and I bit Jonathan’s shoulder to prevent myself from crying out. “I’m...I’m amazi—great...I just....” I sucked in as much air as I could and tried to pull

myself together. “Some food went down...Some food went down the wrong pipe and I’m just waiting for it to move completely... I didn’t want you looking at me while I tried to force it... It’s not very appropriate.” I scowled at Jonathan. He scowled back. “Oh...I’m so sorry.” Michael actually sounded sincere. “Well, that’s okay. I would’ve helped you if you needed me too...Do you need anything? Water maybe?” “No...” My breathing was still erratic. I was still feeling the aftershocks. “I’m fine...Thank you.” “Okay well, I’ll go ahead and order dessert. Is chocolate soufflé okay with you?” “That’d be perfect... I’ll be right out.” I heard the door shut and Jonathan set me down on the floor. Without saying a word, he took a few cloths from the dispenser and wiped between my thighs. He pulled the dress back over my breasts, deftly securing the fabric into place. Then he reached down and smoothed my hair—attempting to make it look like it did before, even removing a bobby pin and sliding it where it used to be. He raised his eyebrow at the Batman Band-Aid, and possessively ran his fingers across the Harry Winston bracelet. It took me several minutes to completely catch my breath, to wrap my head around what had just happened. I shook my head, still in disbelief. “What the hell is wrong with you, Jonathan? Are you insane?” “No, but you must be. You had the nerve to bring a date here of all places.” He scoffed. “I didn’t pick this place, but even if I did, how was I supposed to know that your business meeting would be here?” “The restaurant is called Statham, Claire. I own it. It’s also right down the street from corporate and my picture is in the hallway. There’s always a chance that I could be here.” “Fine. A major oversight on my part, but that still doesn’t give you the right to interrupt my date.” I spun away from him and walked out of the stall, over to the mirrors. “Do you like him?” he asked. No... “I don’t know yet. I think I need to get to know him better before I come to any conclusions.” His eyes met mine in the mirror. “You plan on going out with him again?” “Yes. He seems like someone who wouldn’t give me a childish jealousy fuck in a public restroom.” He rolled his eyes and walked towards the door. “Get rid of him after dinner. Let me know when you make it home so I can pick you up. We need to talk.” “And if I don’t feel like talking to you?” “Then we don’t have to talk.”

Chapter 11 Claire I wasn’t sure why I called Jonathan to let him know I was at home. A part of me was furious about what he’d done to me in that bathroom, but another part of me—a part I couldn’t explain, was happy that he’d showed up and interrupted my night. As he steered his Bugatti through the city and past the suburbs, I sat back in my seat and wondered when he was going to start talking. He hadn’t uttered a word since he’d picked me up, and he hadn’t looked over at me once. Why do I even care? I’m not supposed to like him... He sped through the sandy lanes of Ocean Beach, way past the familiar common areas that I was used to going to. There were no more lampposts or sparkling sand lights that helped lead the way along the shore. There was nothing but darkness and the pale glow of the moon from above. After what felt like forever, he pulled in front of a massive wooden house and turned off the car. He stepped out without saying a word, and then he walked over to my side and opened the door. He reached for my hand and led me up the porch’s steps, pressing a few buttons on a keypad. As his finger tapped the last key, the door slowly opened and he pulled me inside. My jaw dropped as soon as I stepped forward. The vaulted ceilings were at least fifty feet high and they were made of black glass. There were paintings by Renoir and Amadeo—the originals, gently tucked in their own gilded frames that hung high. The room was filled with earth-toned furniture— soft brown sofas, emerald green chaises, and bronze accent pieces, that all reflected against the windows on the back wall. This is beautiful... “Take off your shoes,” he ordered. I slipped out of my flats and followed him into a kitchen so grand I wasn’t sure if it was real. It reminded me of the royal British kitchens I’d seen in Architectural Digest, the kitchens I would’ve killed to visit someday. He motioned for me to sit down on one of the silver barstools and then he switched on the stove. He turned his back to me and began preparing food—never once looking over his shoulder or saying anything to me. He took his time measuring different oils and sautéing meat, shaking his head every few minutes. While he was chopping vegetables, I looked at my watch and realized an hour had gone by since we’d made it to the house. “Here.” He turned around and slid me a plate of chicken, potatoes, and salad. “I didn’t see you eat much on your date.” “Thank you...” We ate dinner in complete silence; the sound of forks scraping against the plates was the only noise between us. I looked up at him several times, trying to see if he would look back, but he didn’t; he kept his eyes on his food the entire time. When he saw that my plate was empty, he grabbed it and tossed it into the sink. He put on his jacket and walked to the frosted glass door that was across the room. “Come here, Claire.” His voice sounded neutral, but there was still a look of coldness in his eyes.

I took my time walking over to him and he wrapped a warm blanket around my shoulders. He opened the door and I realized the Pacific Ocean was only a few feet away. I thought we were going to walk along the beach since I was still barefoot, but he led me onto a beautiful black yacht that was docked nearby. He helped me up the steps, and signaled for a man—who appeared out of nowhere, to start the ship. He started tugging me through all types of elegant rooms—tea room, sun room, living room, Jacuzzi room—and then he suddenly stopped. He turned around and stared at me, looked at me long and hard, as if he were contemplating what he wanted to do—what he wanted to say. “I don’t like being lied to.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, pressing himself so tightly against me that I could feel his erection through his pants. He possessed my mouth with his tongue, hardly ever giving me a chance to breathe—instantly turning me on. I knew he was upset, but I wanted to feel him inside of me again. I wanted him to take me right then and there so I reached down to unbutton his pants, but he broke off our kiss. “Why did you do that?” He snarled. “What?” I panted. “What are you talking about?” “Don’t give me any fucking sarcasm...” “Excuse me?” “I didn’t stutter.” He pulled me down onto a couch. “Why were you on a date with that doctor?” “It wasn’t by choice...” I leaned back and touched my swollen lips. “My mom set me up... I showed up to her house ready to go to the opera, but she told me she’d set me up on a date with him.” “But someone like him is who you want to date, right?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Someone your age or older?” “Yes...” “Explain that to me.” “What do you mean?” “Explain why you feel that dating someone your age or older is what’s best for you. Better yet, just tell me why I’m not good enough, because that’s clearly how you feel.” “It’s not that you’re not good enough, it’s just that...” I saw him clenching his jaw. “Whenever I do decide to date again, I want to date someone with a little more life experience—someone who didn’t have everything handed to him, you know? Someone who knows what it’s like to love and lose and someone who would go out of his way to make sure neither of us felt that again...” “And because he’s older with life experience, that means he’ll treat you right?” “There’s a greater chance of that. Yes.” “For the record, I didn’t have anything handed to me. Believe it or not, I had to work for every dime that I have. I know exactly what it’s like to love and lose, and I would never ever hurt you. If you —” “You never had anything handed to you?” I scoffed. “Have you read your bio in the company handbook lately? You were born and raised in an upper class Boston family and you went to an expensive prep school—Phillips Exeter Academy, in New Hampshire. And you and your—” “All of that shit is a lie, Claire.” He hissed. “I had my best friend, who happens to be my security director, make up a past for me. I even paid Phillips Exeter to create an old transcript and Photoshop my face into old yearbooks...I didn’t think trailer trash kid with meth-head parents who almost killed their own kids sounded very inspiring.” What?

My mind went blank. All these weeks I’d been trying to come up with excuses to use should this very conversation ever happen, but his lack of life experience was one of my biggest ones. “I’m...I’m so sorry about your parents, Jonathan. I didn’t know...But still, it’s only a matter of time before you find someone your age or younger and you’ll want to date her—which is perfectly normal and understandable. I mean, the past couple months have been fun, but I honestly think you’re going through a MILF phase.” “A MILF phase?” “Yes. Mother [You’d] Like to Fuck. I don’t think that—” “First of all, I’ve already fucked you—numerous times, so consider that point null and void. Second of all, I’ve told you over and over that I don’t give a damn about your age. I don’t know how else I can make that fact any clearer. What do you want me to do? Send out a company memo about it?” “I just don’t want you to think that you and I could ever have something serious...I know you say you don’t care about the age gap now, but that’ll change with time. It always does...And while I’m extremely flattered by your little crush—” “Jesus.” He balled his fists at his side and glared at me. “I like you, Claire. Point blank. Period. From the moment I saw you at Pacific Bay Lounge on New Year ’s Eve, I was captivated by you and I’ve never been this drawn to a woman in my life. I’m not hung up on your age at all. You are. All I see is a beautiful and intriguing woman who is hell bent on frustrating the shit out of me. If I thought you weren’t interested, or if you would have convincingly told me that all you wanted me for was sex, I would have left it alone. But, since neither of those things have happened, just admit that you like me and say that you want to date me because I know deep down you want to.” I wasn’t sure how to respond. I just sat there, blinking at him, trying to process everything he’d said. I didn’t remember ever seeing him at Pacific Bay Lounge. I thought our first encounter was at the grocery store. I put on my best poker face and sighed. “It’s—” “It’s not that difficult. I’m not asking for your heart or anything. I’m just trying to get to know you better in other ways... Just say, ‘I like you Jonathan and I want to date you.’ That’s it.” “I think that—” “I like you, Jonathan, and I want to date you.” He fumed. “What’s the difference between what we’re doing now and dating? Public dinners? Movie nights?” “Admit that you like me and I’ll show you.” “And if I don’t admit it?” “We’ll keep sailing out here until you do. I’ve got all year.” Just say it... “I’ll think about it.” “Close enough.” He pulled me close and draped his arm around my shoulders. “Was that so hard to say?” “I didn’t say anything. I said I would think about it.” He rolled his eyes. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about, but not here. Lunch on Monday?” “Together?” “Yes. When two people are dating, they typically eat together.” “I still don’t want people at work knowing that—” “I’ve been eating lunch with a different director every day for a month now. No one is going to suspect anything. They’ll think I’m having another business lunch.” I sighed. “Okay...”

“Good. Now that that’s settled, there’s one thing I’ve wanted to do to you all night.” He moved his arm from around my shoulders and held my face in his hands. He looked deep into my eyes and I braced myself for another passionate kiss—closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Then I felt him ripping off my Batman Band-Aid. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a different Band-Aid, a clear one, and softly pressed it onto my hand. “No grown man should be carrying around Batman Band-Aids.” He pushed me down onto the couch. “Seriously? Are you that insane?” He covered my lips with his. “You have no idea...”

I was sitting in my office, listening to one of my associates present his idea for the sTablet. It was conversations like this that made me wish the Golden Gate Bridge was closer so I could run out there and jump off of it. “Isn’t it amazing?” Travis asked. “With this idea we can capture our lowest demographic market of kids between the ages of ten and twelve. We’ll be forcing their parents to run out and buy one!” He held up his board and pointed at the colorful clowns. “Travis...” I sighed. “Our target market for this product is adults aged twenty-five to thirty four. I’m not sure if—” “No, wait! I haven’t told you the best part yet! The magical clowns are delivering all these cool sTablets to the kids after school, right? So, once the kids get them in their hands, the clowns start shouting, “Use your imagination!” and the kids suddenly disappear! ‘sTablet...It’s Magic!’ See? Awesome, right?” I refuse to deal with this today... “Get out of my office. Now.” “But—” “Right now.” He gathered his boards and rushed out, slamming the door behind him. “I’ll be down to your office in ten minutes so we can finish our conversation from Saturday.” Jonathan texted me. I looked over my schedule for the day and realized I had to sit through eight more associate presentations. I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to do it. Although Travis’ idea was a bit farfetched, his was actually the best one of the day. I slipped my comfy slippers off under my desk and reached for my pumps. I had a feeling I was in for a long conversation with Jonathan today. We’d discussed a few things about dating each other— exclusivity, keeping it private, and not rushing things—but the conversation had been cut short with sex. There was a sudden knock at my door. “Come in!” I was still changing my shoes. “I thought you said ten min—” I looked up and realized that it wasn’t Jonathan knocking at my door. It was Michael. I stood up and smoothed my dress. “Um...Hi?” “Hello, Claire. I hope you don’t mind me stopping by.” He walked in and handed me a fresh bouquet of yellow roses. “I was delivering some prescriptions to the nursing home down the street and I remembered that you worked here. Since you were sick Saturday and had to go home early, I was thinking we could try it again? How does this Friday work for you?” Shit...

“Umm...” “No seafood. I promise.” He laughed. “You can pick the restaurant and I’ll bring my epi-pen just in case you break out in hives or something.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “That sounds very very sweet of you, but I...Actually, I’m kind of—” “Are you—” Jonathan walked into my office and stopped. He looked back and forth between me and Michael and his lips curved into a forced smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Gracen. And you are?” He looked at Michael. “I’m Dr. Michael Clarkson,” he said, reaching out to shake his hand. “And yourself?” “I’m Jonathan Statham.” His eyes widened. “The Jonathan Statham? Of Statham Industries? The CEO?” “The one and only.” “Oh. Well, I’m sorry if I was intruding on a meeting or something, Claire.” Michael smiled. “I just wanted to stop by and see you.” He looked me up and down. “You look stunning by the way...I don’t think there’s a dress that wouldn’t look good on you.” “You’re not interrupting anything.” Jonathan shook his head. “It’s perfectly fine, Dr. Clarkson. I take a different director out for lunch every day and it’s a completely laid back affair. We were about to eat at Water Bistro Café. Its two blocks down. Would you like to join us? Everything is on me.” WHAT? “Sure, I’d love to. I have to make one more home visit, but it’s relatively close. Will you still be there in about twenty minutes or so?” “Definitely.” Jonathan smiled. “Great.” Michael stepped forward and planted a kiss on my lips. “I’ll see you there, Claire.” Out the corner of my eye I saw Jonathan’s jaw clench as Michael placed two more kisses against my cheek. “It’s not what you think.” I looked up at him once Michael left the room. “I swear, it’s not.” “Oh really? What am I thinking?” “Whatever it is, it’s not as bad as it looks.” “Are you going to put your pretty new roses in some water?” He looked at my flowers. “The good doctor went through a lot of trouble to bring them so you should probably try to keep them alive.” “I’ll do it when I get back...” “Okay.” He unclenched his jaw. “Are you ready to go?”

Jonathan and I took the employee shuttle down to the Water Bistro Café. Most of the employees who were on board seemed excited to see him, and just like he’d mentioned earlier, they seemed to think it was only a business lunch; they even joked about needing his help in their own departments. Once the bus stopped, he allowed me to step off before him, and linked my arm in his. We didn’t stop by the hostess stand; we simply made a left and walked upstairs, to a large private room with a view of the ocean. “Good afternoon, Mr. Statham.” A waitress showed us to the only table in the room—a high table with tall silver chairs that sat next to the window. “Are there any other persons joining your party today?” “Yes, a Dr. Clarkson.” He ushered for me to sit down. “Could you make sure his valet parking is made complimentary when he arrives?” “Yes sir. Shall I wait until he arrives to take your order?” “That’d be fine. Could you bring us the chef’s suggested wine while we wait?”

“Right away.” She placed three menus on the table and disappeared. “So,” Jonathan said as he sat down next to me, “how are the ideas coming for the sTablet?” “Cut the crap, Jonathan. I know you’re upset about Michael dropping by my office today. Aren’t you?” “Why would I be upset?” I don’t know...“Never mind...” I shook my head. “I just thought you were the jealous type...I apologize for thinking that... I think the sTablet is going to be even harder than the sPhone. “Why is that?” “Because ‘sTablet’ doesn’t rhyme with anything.” He laughed. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something amazing.” The waiter returned with a tray of wine glasses and Michael was a few steps behind her. “This is a really nice restaurant.” He sat down across from us. “Is there a reason why the tables are so high?” “It’s a water bistro.” The waitress smiled and passed him a glass of wine. “All of our food is steamed and served on floating plates of hot water. The height of the table and the grooves on the edges prevent our guests from burning themselves.” She blushed. “Oh...What do you suggest I try first, Mr. Statham?” “Please, call me Jonathan.” He smiled and turned his head towards the waitress. “How about giving us all a sample of everything?” “As you wish sir.” She collected our menus and stole one more glance of Michael before walking away. The three of us took short sips of our wine and sat in complete silence before Jonathan cleared his throat. “So Michael, what hospital do you work for?” “None. I have my own practice downtown. It’s relatively small though, only three doctors and five nurses.” “What’s your specialty?” Michael’s eyes met mine. “Women.” “Interesting...” Jonathan reached over and put his hand on my thigh. “What made you choose that?” “Well, no disrespect to the Children’s Hospital—I worked there for over a decade, but my true talent,” he said as his eyes met mine again, “has always been working with the female anatomy.” I picked up my wine glass and practically chugged the whole thing. I tried to clamp my legs shut, but Jonathan had already slipped his hand between my thighs. He wouldn’t dare do this here... “Hmmm...” Jonathan nodded. “This may seem like an odd question, but do any of your patients ever ask you out?” He laughed. “Yes, but I always turn them down. It’d be inappropriate.” “Completely inappropriate.” I felt Jonathan’s thumb circling around my clit. “Except in your case, Claire.” Michael beamed at me. “If it had been you and not your mom, I’m sure I would’ve broken the rules for you...” “You two are dating?” Jonathan smiled and looked back and forth between the two of us, teasing my opening with his middle finger. Before Michael could answer, a group of waitresses brought out a series of plates. Each entrée was floating atop its own silver bed of steaming hot water. “I had the chef make a miniature version of every signature item,” our waitress said as she refilled our glasses. “He wishes to speak with you personally after your meal, Mr. Statham. I’ll return to check on all of you rather shortly.”

I looked over a small plate of brightly skewered vegetables and sautéed chicken. I was about to pick up my fork and taste a piece, but Jonathan drove two fingers deep inside of me, pinning me completely still. “This looks amazing.” Michael picked up his spoon. “So Jonathan, I’m sure it must be great being the CEO of your own company. What’s the most difficult part?” I couldn’t concentrate on the conversation–not with Jonathan sliding his thick fingers in and out of me—slowly, teasingly—like he was going to prolong this session forever. “The hardest part?” He used his left hand to pick up his fork, keeping his right hand extremely busy. “That would probably be a product’s development stage.” “Really? I would think that would be the easiest part.” “No, not at all.” He shook his head. “Let’s say you have this beautiful and amazing product— something you know everyone else will want. You have to figure out a way to keep it to yourself throughout all stages of development before it becomes official. You know, mark your territory so to speak.” His fingers were rubbing against my G-spot, making my breaths shorter and shorter. “So quite naturally,” he continued, “you have to be willing to take certain public risks.” “Isn’t your company about to go public in a few months?” Michael asked. “Is that a risk?” “Yes, it’s a huge risk.” Jonathan’s fingers plunged as deep as they could go. “But, I’m all in and I can’t turn back...Once I’m in deep, the only option is to go deeper and deeper. Isn’t that right, Claire?” Son of a bitch... I nodded. “Are you okay, Claire?” Michael looked concerned. “Did your food go down the wrong way again?” Jonathan turned to look at me. “Yes, Claire. You’re confusing the two of us...Do you not like the water plates?” “I’m okay...” I murmured and attempted to pick up a fork. “I’m just...” I felt his fingers punishing me again. “Feeling a tad bit weak...” Michael shrugged and took another bite of his food. The waitress stopped by and cleared away the empty glasses, providing us with freshly filled ones. Before she walked away, Jonathan grabbed her by the arm. “I’m sorry, but could you bring some more hot water for our friend here?” He looked at me. “I think she likes her tier plate extra wet. Maybe that will help you better, Claire.” “Could I get some too?” Michael spooned butter onto a slice of bread. “Claire, you’ve been quiet all afternoon. How’s your day going so far?” “It’s going...” I was on the verge of an orgasm—I could feel my clit throbbing, my insides clenching together tightly. Since Jonathan knew exactly what spot to hit and how to hit it, I knew I was only seconds away from a sweet release. “It’s...” Jonathan turned to face me and smirked. “It’s going well? Is that what you’re trying to say? Do you need help spitting it out, or are you almost there?” Fuck you, Jonathan... I nodded and tucked my lips in, trying to remain as still as possible as wave after wave of pulsing pleasure rippled through my body. “Claire? You sure you don’t want to get that checked out?” Michael sipped his wine. “I know a specialist you can use.” “No...” I caught my breath. “I’m okay and my day is going very well...” He suddenly stood up from the table. “This is an emergency page from one of my nurses. I’m sorry, but I have to take this.” He walked out of the room.

“You should try the steak strips, Claire.” Jonathan smiled and removed his fingers. “They’re very succulent.” He IS insane! “I can’t believe you! You are so—I don’t even know what you are! Why would you do that in front of him?” “Would you prefer if I did it behind him? When he comes back, we can move the table around and try it. Maybe then I won’t have to deal with him eye-fucking you.” “He was not! He was being extremely polite! Was that the only reason you invited him? So you could further inflate your ego?” “No, I did that because you lied to me about the directors’ meeting a few weeks ago.” He laughed. “You didn’t think I forgot about that did you?” I rolled my eyes. “So you’re really not mad about today?” “Mad? About today? About the guy I told you to get rid of showing up to your office with flowers because he thinks he still has a chance? Or about this same guy kissing you on your lips right in front of me? Which part?” “I told you it wasn’t—” “Tell him you’re not interested or I will.” He planted a kiss on my neck and stood up. “I’ll go talk to the chef and see you back at corporate later...Oh and Claire?” “Yes?” “I am the jealous type.”

Chapter 12 Claire “I am the jealous type...” “I am the jealous type...” I replayed Jonathan’s last words in my head over and over, knowing that if I was sane I would walk away. No, run away. Far away. I would stop answering his calls and text messages, ignore him in all of our meetings, and act as if we’d never crossed paths. But I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried to resist him, every move he made and every word he said only drew me in deeper. I’d finally admitted to myself that I liked him. A lot. But I didn’t want to dig myself into a relationship that I knew would never work out for the long term. So, starting this week, I did the only thing I could do to prevent him from getting too close too soon: put a little distance between us. I went home early on Monday and Tuesday, skipped the directors’ meeting on Wednesday, and on Thursday—after he asked me to meet him in an emergency stairwell, I told him I had a headache. There was no way I was getting out of our “first real date” tonight though—not that I’d been thinking about canceling it anyway. I’d been looking forward to it all week. “See you in a few minutes.” Jonathan texted me. I adjusted my earrings and ran a brush through my hair, checking myself in the mirror. I was wearing my favorite silver strappy heels and a short emerald-green dress that perfectly complemented my eyes. Its soft satin fabric tightly hugged my hips, its V-neckline made my breasts look a full cup size bigger, and its slimming sleeves fell right below my elbow. My phone sounded. Jonathan. “Hello?” “Hello, Claire. I’m outside your door.” “I’m coming.” I tossed my phone into my clutch and looked at myself in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. You’re just “dating” him, Claire...I know you two agreed to be “exclusive” but it’s not serious and it never will be....You’re just “dating”... I opened my front door and tried not to gasp once I laid eyes on him. To say that he was “perfect” would be an absolute understatement—an insult. Everything about the way he looked tonight was impeccable, flawless. He was wearing a tailored black tuxedo and his sleek dark hair was slicked back in smooth waves that I wanted to run my fingers through. His beautiful blue eyes were twinkling against the night, regarding me with glances that made me think he was going to rip my dress off right then and there. We both lingered in the doorway, staring at one another, not saying a word. “Are you ready?” He smiled and reached for my hand, leading me down to a waiting limousine. He opened the back door and ushered for me to step inside first. “We’re ready, Greg.” He hit the button that divided the driver ’s section from our section and looked over at me. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that no one at corporate ever asked you out on a date before I did?” “It’s true...People flirted with me every now and then, but I think the ‘divorcée with two kids’ rumor warded a lot of people off. It’s not like I was the most approachable person either...I wasn’t

trying to date anyone.” “Hmmm...” “Where are we going?” “On a date.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m aware that it’s a date. I’m just wondering why I needed to wear a dress and why you’re wearing a tuxedo.” “You’ll find out.” He moved closer and pressed his lips against mine. “I didn’t see you after work yesterday...” “I had a headache, remember? I decided to leave early.” “Are you feeling better now?” He started trailing tender kisses against the base of my neck. “Yes...” I suppressed a moan. “Much better...” “Will Doctor Clarkson be joining us on our date tonight? Did you tell him you were sick again or did you tell him the truth?” “I told him I was seeing an extremely jealous and possessive man who would keep fingering me in public if I didn’t break things off with him immediately.” “Sounds great.” He pulled me into his lap. “You’re ridiculous...I told him I was seeing someone else and gave him Sandra’s number. They’re going out this weekend.” “Even better.” He pushed the speaker button on the door. “Greg, could you take the scenic route please?” “Yes sir.” “I haven’t seen you at all this week...” He ran his hands across my thighs. “My days have been completely thrown off.” “Flattery doesn’t work well with your persona, Jonathan. I prefer your inappropriate comments and your not-so-subtle threats.” “You haven’t missed me?” “No. Should I?” He sighed and repositioned me in his lap. “You’re going to stop lying to me one of these days.” “Jonathan...” I felt him slowly hiking my dress up and tried to move. “Your driver is in here!” “What’s your point?” He touched between my thighs and reached for my panties but I wasn’t wearing any. “I don’t want to have sex while he’s—” “You clearly wanted to have sex at some point tonight.” He pinched my clit. “No, I clearly didn’t want a visible panty line. I’m not...” I tried my best to act unaffected by the warm kisses he was placing on my neck, on my shoulders, on my back. “I’m not...I’m not having sex with you right now.” He let out a low sexy laugh and began unbuckling his pants, un-wrapping a condom. “I’m serious Jonathan,” I murmured unconvincingly as he slid my dress up even further. “I don’t...I don’t want to have sex in a limo.” “Then you should’ve worn a different dress.” He pushed me up and out of his lap and before I could lunge towards the side seats, he pulled me back down by my shoulders. He slowly lowered me onto him—my back was facing his chest, and I tried my best not to cry out, but it was no use. I screamed as he filled me with every inch of him, as he flexed his hips and moved me up and down. Jesus... “Jonathan—” “Yes?” He kneaded my breasts with his hands.

“I...” “You want me to stop? You want me to let you go?” No... He pinched my nipples. Hard. “I can’t hear you.” “I said...I said no...” “Ride me.” He let my sides go and leaned back, letting me take full control. I gripped his knees and arched my back, using my balance to swivel around in circles. I started off slow, but I wanted more of him—needed more of him, so I thrust myself onto him harder and harder, riding him with wild abandon. He reached around and rubbed my swollen clit with his fingers, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. “Oh godddd, Jonathannnn...” “You feel so good, Claire.” He groaned. “So good...Tell me when you’re almost there...” He locked me in his arms and slowed my pace down, pressing his head against the back of my shoulder. “Are you close?” “Yes...” I moaned. “I...I—” My body was quivering, shuddering—getting ready to explode, but before I could let go, Jonathan pushed me off of him. He turned me around and positioned me across the seat’s bench, straddling me—not re-entering me. “Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been doing?” He hissed. What the! “What? What the hell are you talking about?” I thrust my hips up to meet him, but he pinned them down. “Going home early? Skipping directors’ meetings? Sudden headaches? You think I haven’t noticed?” “I...” I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to reach my orgasm right now and him denying me one was beginning to hurt. “Can you please—” “You think I’m going to put up with that shit?” “Jonathan, I—” “I don’t like mixed signals and I don’t half-ass anything, Claire—especially things like this. Do you understand me?” I felt my eyes widening, felt a mix of shock and frustration ripping through me. “Yes...” I panted. “Now, please—” “Please what?” I could barely speak. My clit was pulsating in pleasurable pain; my body was in desperate need of a release. “You don’t like the way this feels? Being denied something just because someone wants to take a step back all of a sudden? For no good reason?” “No...” I murmured. “I don’t either.” He kept my hips pinned to the seat and began kissing the inside of my thighs, driving my need to cum even more. “Let’s see what happens when it’s completely held back though. Let’s see how the aftermath really feels.” Damn him! “I’m sorry for doing all those things, Jonathan. I wasn’t trying to send you mixed signals. Now, please...” I was practically begging, writhing underneath him. He slid his tongue up past my navel, in between my breasts. “You’ll stop playing games with me?” I nodded my head. “Say it.”

“I’ll stop...” His eyes softened as he looked at me, as he contemplated what I’d said. He slid into me and thrusted in and out—slowly, gently, and within minutes I was shutting my eyes and screaming, reveling in a much needed climax. “Fuck...” Jonathan collapsed on top of me seconds later. We were both panting heavily, in sync with one another, and before I could catch another breath, I felt him kissing my lips and pulling my dress down. I didn’t want to open my eyes yet. I didn’t want to look at him or see his ‘I’ve got you right where I want you’ face. I simply spread my legs and felt what I already knew was coming: the soft swipes of a cloth, the gentle kisses against my forehead and neck. “Claire?” His sultry voice almost made me wet all over again. My eyes fluttered open and I realized he was staring at me. I wanted to look away from him, to pretend that I was mad for that ridiculous orgasm denial, but all I could do was stare back. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He pulled me up and put his arm around me, holding me against his chest. We quickly slipped into silence, into that ‘I’m-perfectly-comfortable-with-you-silence’ that I’d only ever enjoyed with him. I looked out the window and saw that we were still in the city; I figured that Jonathan saying “scenic route” must have meant drive around in circles because my house was a mere ten minutes away and we’d been in the car for much longer. I started wondering about where we were going—tonight and long term. I didn’t want to think about it, but I couldn’t help it since he’d seen through my distancing attempt: What if this turned into an actual relationship? What if we did last a long time and he wanted kids in the future? Should I introduce him to Ashley and Caroline? Were we at that point yet? Did I really like him that much or was my “like” clouded by his good looks and the mind blowing sex? Was this something we were both doing to— “Stop that.” Jonathan tilted my head up and kissed me. “Stop what?” “Thinking—about this, about us.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Stop it.” “Mr. Statham?” The driver ’s voice came over the speaker. “Yes, Greg?” “We’ve arrived sir.” “We’ll be right out.” Jonathan kissed me again and waited for the driver to open the door. He stepped out of the car and reached for my hand. “Does this place look familiar?” “Yeah, it’s the Golden Gate Br—” I stopped and looked around. There were no cars coming or going in any of the six lanes, no tourists camped out on the railings, no pedestrians taking a late night stroll. In the distance I could see a single table covered in a white tablecloth and hundreds of giant red candles surrounding it. “You had the entire bridge blocked off?” I gasped. “I—” “I did.” He squeezed my hand and walked me towards the table. “You mentioned liking the architecture of this bridge before. I thought you would appreciate it a lot better if you had it to yourself for a while.” He remembered that? “I thought we agreed on no public—” “I took care of everything.” My mind was spinning. For one, I didn’t think he’d really been listening when I was talking about my love for the structure of bridges—I’d said that the first time we spoke on the phone. And two, I

was remembering how it cost my team fifty thousand dollars to reserve a small photo-esque landing on the bridge for the sPhone blue commercial. I couldn’t fathom how much it cost to completely reroute traffic and shut down the entire bridge. I looked up and expected to see news helicopters humming about, trying to zoom in on who or what had shut down the largest bridge on the West Coast, but there weren’t any. It was eerily calm and the only noise was coming from the sloshing waters below. He pulled my chair out and motioned for me to take a seat. He planted a kiss on my forehead before sitting down across from me. “Good evening, Mr. Statham, Miss Gracen.” A waiter in a white suit appeared. “What type of wine would you prefer tonight?” “I’ll have whatever she’s having.” Jonathan looked at me as if he were waiting for me to choose. “Do you have DeLille Chaleur Estate Blanc? 2010?” I asked. “Yes. Excellent choice, Miss.” The waiter walked away and quickly returned with two crystal wine glasses. He filled them and handed us a menu. “This is the menu for the Michael Mina restaurant, Miss. The chef has substituted all the seafood items with his signature French and Italian dishes. I’ll return shortly to get your order.” “Any particular reason why you chose the Michael Mina menu?” I smiled at Jonathan. “I was stood up there once.” He sipped his wine. “I never had the chance to enjoy it with the beautiful woman I was supposed to meet.” I looked over the menu, appreciating the fact that he’d remembered I didn’t like seafood. I decided to order the nine course option that featured baked lamb and caramelized chicken. Jonathan ordered the same and the first course was brought out within minutes. The presentation of the food was surreal. Every vegetable was bright and plump; every piece of meat was tender and brown. It almost looked too perfect to eat. I took it all in once more before picking up my fork and tasting a bite of the appetizer. This is amazing... I tried to think of something to say, something to discuss, but I was utterly speechless. No man had ever paid so much attention to a date’s details before, not even Ryan. “Do you like the food, Claire?” He looked into my eyes. “I love it...Its perfect.” I smiled. “If you don’t mind me asking, how much did you have to pay to get the city to let you do this?” “You really want to know?” I nodded. “Why?” “I just want to know...It cost us fifty thousand to rent a quarter mile with traffic. Did this cost you one million? Two?” “A lot more than that, but you’re worth it.” He smiled and sipped his wine. “Ready for the next course?” The waiter brought out course after course, and by the time dessert was brought out, I could only eat a spoonful of the peach flavored mousse. “Come on.” Jonathan stood up and reached for my hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

I stepped over to the railing of the bridge, looking down at the ocean. A strong gust of wind blew against me and I shivered. “You’re cold?” Jonathan took off his jacket and placed it over me. “Thank you...I know we’re barely in spring, but have you ever wondered why it’s so cold here in

the summers? When I first moved here I was looking forward to sunny summer days but they’re worse than the winter months.” “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. That’s what every local says when people ask about the summers.” “A Mark Twain quote?” “Supposedly.” He laughed. “They claim he said it but I’m not completely convinced...I like to read a lot too.” Really? “What’s your favorite book?” I asked. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh...” “I promise.” “Harry Potter.” I tossed my head back and laughed hysterically. “What?” “You promised.” He pulled me close and kissed my hair. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that at all. Were you one of those people who went to all the midnight book releases?” “No.” He shook his head. “No one ever took me to anything like that. I snuck off to the bookstore on the weekends and read the entire book in the store until I went off to college. As a matter of fact, the first purchase I made once I started making money was the entire collection in hardback and paperback. I even have the signed editions. What’s your favorite book?” “I have way too many...” “Top five?” “What genre?” He looked down at me and smiled. “Are you naturally difficult or do you work extra hard to be?” “I’m not difficult...I like Animal Farm by George Orwell, Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, any book written by Joan Didion, and The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi.” “Hmmm. I’ve read all of those except Eat, Pray, Love. I’ll have to check that one out to see where your head is...Can I ask you something personal?” He backed me against the red railing. “Yes.” “Are you sure?” He lowered his voice and looked into my eyes. “It’s a really personal question...” He tugged at my necklace. “Yes...” He pressed his chest against mine. “In the past, how many guys have you been with?” “Two.” “Two?” I nodded. He smiled and clasped my hand, walking me further and further down the bridge, towards a group of black benches that were spread out across the lanes. “So, is the third guy the charm, Claire?” “No, that’s not what I....I meant two including you.” “What?” He stopped walking. “Your ex-husband was your first?” “Yeah, we were high school sweethearts...Before him I messed around with a few guys here or there, but we never had traditional sex—just kisses and dry humping and...” I sighed. “Are you in desperate need of an ego boost right now? Are you going to ask me which one of you is better?” “I don’t ask questions I already know the answer to. What is traditional sex?” “Are you twelve or twenty eight?” “Twenty-nine in the summer.”

“It’s just sex. You know, what you and I have been doing for a while.” “Does ‘traditional sex’ include oral?” He joked. I stilled. I looked out over the ocean and focused on a small tugboat that was making its way towards us. I needed to figure out a way to change the subject. “Claire?” He cupped my chin. “Did you say yes?” “That’s too personal...” “No it’s not. Tell me.” I sighed. “Of course I gave him—” “I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you.” “No...But that doesn’t mean—” “Ever?” His eyes widened. “My ex was very straightforward. He always said that wasn’t his thing. I was a virgin when we got together so it never really bothered me. You can’t miss what you’ve never experienced, you know? What we had was good.” He stared at me a long time, slowly blinking, shaking his head in disbelief. “Okay...Let me ask you another question. Did you two ever have sex outside of your bedroom?” “He never fucked me in a room full of people if that’s what you’re asking.” “Did he talk dirty to you?” he whispered in my ear. “Jonathan!” “Did he?” “These questions are completely—” “Necessary. I’ll take that as a no...” He trailed his fingers down my backside. “Did he ever explore you here?” “No...And that’s not something I ever wanted him to do.” “Why not?” He gently squeezed my ass. “Because that’s...It’s—” “Immoral?” He laughed and pulled me down onto a bench. “We’ll discuss it one day.” “How many women have you been with, Jonathan? Fifty?” “Fifty?” He smirked. “Including you?” Oh my god, there’s MORE? “Is that number too low?” “Too high.” “Forty nine?” He laughed. “Seventeen.” “Wow...” “Why do you look so shocked?” “It’s...It’s less than what I expected, but that’s still a lot of women...Were you in relationships with any of them?” “A few. One was a friend with benefits who I saw whenever I wasn’t in a relationship.” “And before you had sex with me, when was the last time you’d had sex?” “Six months before you.” “Well, that’s actually quite shocking. Were there no other women at corporate who wanted to be dragged into secret rooms or bent over your desk afterhours?” He shrugged. “No reason, really. I was too busy and I have to be extremely careful when it comes to women.” “Because you have attachment issues?” “Would you like to be fucked on the Golden Gate Bridge tonight?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I don’t have attachment issues...I have to be careful because some women are only into me for my

money, or are more interested in going to the press and blackmailing me than dating me.” “Has that ever happened?” “Not unless you’re going to attempt it. Should I be worried?” “No...” I leaned back. “So, where do you honestly think you and I are—” “I told you to stop thinking about that.” He moved me so my back was flat against his lap. “I just want to know if—” He bent down and kissed me. “It doesn’t matter right now,” he whispered. “I’m not dating anyone else and neither are you. Let’s just see where it goes...” I lay like that for a long time, gazing into his eyes as he gazed back into mine. I wanted to ask him more questions, questions about all those women he’d slept with, but after he kissed me for the umpteenth time, I forgot what I was going to say. Over the sound of the sloshing waters, I heard the roaring of a car in the distance and realized the limo was driving back towards us. “Mr. Statham, the bridge will re-open in ten minutes sir.” His driver pulled in front of us and rolled down the window. “Thank you, Greg.” Jonathan eased me out of his lap and helped me back inside the car. I thought we were going to continue our epic-long-silence-saga and ride back to my place without talking, but he pulled me into his arms as soon as the car pulled off. He crushed his lips onto mine and kissed me passionately, making me wish he would take things further and undress me. But he didn’t. He used every single second of the ride to explore my mouth with his tongue and possess my lips with his. When the car stopped outside of my house, he slowly moved away from me and sighed. He walked me up to my door and slipped his arms around my waist. “Did you have a good time tonight?” “Yes. Thank you very much...Are you sure—” “No one saw anything. You and I are a secret—just like you wanted.” He gave me another open mouthed kiss that made me lose my balance and fall right into him. He held me tighter, rubbing his hands up and down my back, kissing me so intensely I lost all my thoughts. I didn’t want our kiss to end. I didn’t want our night to end, but I wasn’t sure if Ashley and Caroline were in the living room; I hadn’t told them anything about him yet. Before I could consider the idea any further, Jonathan gave me one last passionate kiss and stepped back. “Goodnight, Claire.”

Chapter 13 Jonathan “Any word on where Harrison stands on the Uni-tech investment?” “Are we sure we want to buy Livingston Corp. before we go public? Their sales were dismal last quarter.” “We need to finalize our predictions for the market at least three weeks before the IPO launch.” “The sPhone blue has officially broken our last record for preorder sales.” I was sitting in another late night board meeting and I was tempted to say, “I honestly don’t give a damn about what any of you are talking about. Let’s just get the hell out of here.” Yet, some of the shareholders were tuning in from overseas and I knew that wasn’t the smartest idea. We’d been fine tuning the details for the IPO that was still a long while away: Renegotiating stock options, finalizing the requirements for employee buy-ins, and preparing hundreds of public statements and in-house events. I’d been so busy that I hadn’t seen or spoken to Claire all week. I didn’t have time to attend any of her directors’ meetings or talk to her on the phone at night. My meetings always ended around three in the morning, and since her department was so busy with the sTablet, we only texted each other a few times a day. I didn’t think not seeing her for a week would bother me, but it did. Anytime the meetings became boring—which was every fifteen minutes, I pictured her bent over my desk, pushed up against the walls of my office, or screaming my name as I pushed her into another climax. Where else in this building should we have sex? “Mr. Statham? Mr. Statham?” One of the board members cleared his throat. Maybe on the roof...“Yes?” “Is it okay if we end tonight’s meeting a little early?” I looked at my watch. Two thirty in the morning. “That’s fine with me.” I tried not to look relieved. “See you all on Monday.” They stood up at once and shuffled out of the room. There were no “See you later” or “Great job team” goodbyes. The friendly salutations had worn off much earlier in the week, as soon as the first meeting went past midnight. I closed my folder and realized Vanessa was standing by the door. “Hey, Vanessa. It hasn’t been the same at the negotiating sessions without you. How was France?” “It was phenomenal.” She bit her lip. “Did you miss me?” “In what sense?” “Funny. Are you sleeping in your office suite tonight?” “Probably so.” I started stacking my files. “Why?” “Can I stay the night?” I looked up and raised my eyebrow. “What?” “I’m too tired to drive home...” “I can get Greg to take you in the town car.” I pulled out my phone. “Do you want me to have your car taken to your house too or do you—” “Jonathan, no one is around right now. Everyone has gone home. There’s no need for you to act like we’re platonic.”

“We are platonic. You don’t want a ride home?” “No, I don’t want a ride home. I—” She stopped and shook her head. “You changed the employee fraternization policy while I was gone, and I’m finally back so...I took that to mean that you finally decided to give us a chance.” “Vanessa, I’ve never—” “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to rush things between us.” She walked over and touched my shoulder. “I wasn’t implying that we sleep together tonight—unless you want to of course...I was thinking we could just talk, you know? We’ve been friends for so long but we don’t really know each other outside of the boardroom.” I sighed. “I’m dating someone else.” “Someone else? Since when?” “Since—” It wasn’t any of her damn business. “It hasn’t been that long.” “So it’s not serious, right?” She shrugged. “You’ve always kept your options open. I’ll go grab my bag out of my car and we can—” “I’m dating her and only her, Vanessa. I’ve told you over and over that you and I are just friends. I want to keep it that way.” Forever... “This doesn’t make any sense.” She crossed her arms. “You’re honestly not attracted to me?” “I am.” “You don’t enjoy hanging out with me? You don’t think we have great conversations? ” “I do.” “But you don’t want to date me?” “No.” Can it get any clearer? “Okay...” She took a deep breath and stepped back. “I take it that the woman you’re dating is an employee here?” I didn’t answer. I just raised my eyebrow. “Does she have a name?” “She does.” “What is it? Friends can tell each other who they’re dating.” “Can they?” I stood up. “I never meant to lead you on. If I did that in any way I’m sorry. I think you’re extremely pretty, smart, and—” “Spare me your pity shit, Jonathan.” She scoffed and headed for the door. “Don’t come crying to me when your low-level employee runs to the press and tries to blackmail you. I might help her.” “See you on Monday, Vanessa. I liked the skirt you wore today.” “Fuck you.” She rolled her eyes and left. I waited ten minutes before walking out of the conference room. I didn’t want to run into her or anyone else on my way upstairs. I swiped my key at my private elevator and sighed. I thought about calling Claire, but I figured she was already asleep. I walked into my bedroom and lay across the bed. Nothing was on TV except those renovation shows that Claire liked to watch. The one I was currently watching featured two men who were tearing down a dilapidated porch and turning it into a wrap-around veranda. How can she watch this without falling asleep? I changed the channel to an infomercial—a ‘Magic Soap Bar ’ that could clean “any and everything!”—and slid under the covers. I pulled out my laptop and started going over the week’s meeting notes, reading all the things I hadn’t bothered listening to earlier.

I heard my phone ringing and assumed it was one of the board members emailing the meeting notes from tonight, but it kept ringing. I flipped it over and looked at the screen. Claire? “Hello?” I answered. “Hey...” “Are you okay?” I sat up. “Is something wrong?” “No, I was just...calling to talk to you.” “At three in the morning?” “Is there a time frame on when I’m allowed to call you? Could you forward me the schedule so I can better understand the ‘do’s and don’ts’?” “I’ll have my secretary email it to you in the morning. How are you?” “I’m okay...” I placed my reading glasses on the side table. “Why do you sound like that?” “Sound like what?” “Like you’re almost out of breath, like you’re whispering. Are you sure you’re alright?” “Yes. I’m quite fine. I was calling you to talk about work.” “Work?” “Are you going deaf?” “What about work, Claire?” “Well...I was thinking that...That...That there were a lot of—” “You called me because you’re horny?” “What?” She sucked in her breath. “No, I’m not horny. I’m—” “Yes you are.” “Jonathan, I was calling because—” “Admit it.” I smiled. “That’s not why I...That’s not why I called you.” “Go get your laptop.” “Why?” “I’m going to help you with your problem.” She was silent. I could only hear her soft breaths over the line. “Claire?” “Yes?” “Go. Get. Your. Laptop.” “Um...Hold on a second...” She came back on the line seconds later. “I have it.” “Good. Log into your email.” I stepped out of bed and walked into my office suite’s living room. I poured myself a glass of scotch and sat in a chair. “I’m logged in now,” she murmured. I logged into my own account and opened up the web-chat app. I typed in her name and hit “Connect.” Within seconds, her beautiful face appeared on my screen. She was sitting in front of a stack of red pillows and I could see her gold colored duvet. She moved the laptop back a bit, allowing me to get a better picture of her. She was wearing a thin white T-shirt and her hair was in large pink rollers. She’s so fucking sexy... “You can hang up the phone now,” I said, still smiling. She rolled her eyes and set her phone down. “So, since you’re not horny, what exactly did you call to talk to me about?”

“The sTablet.” She blinked twice, giving me further indication that she was lying. “The sTablet? What about it?” “Well...” She paused. “We’ve narrowed down the potential slogans to four, and the campaign directives are going to be finalized by the end of—” “Take off your shirt.” “What?” “Take it off.” She hesitated for a few seconds, and I thought I was going to have to repeat myself, but she slowly pulled the shirt over her head, revealing a lacy red bra. I should’ve had Greg pick her up... “Like I was saying...” She was clearly trying to make this more difficult than it needed to be. “By the end of next week—” “Were you touching yourself before you called me?” She turned bright red. “What were you thinking about?” I tilted my screen. “And don’t you dare lie to me.” “I was thinking about...” Her voice trailed off. “Yes?” “You...” “Me fucking you? Be specific.” Her cheeks turned scarlet. “Jonathan—” “Take off your bra—and your panties if you’re actually wearing any today...” She looked shocked, but she unsnapped the button on the front of her bra and pulled the straps down over her shoulders, revealing her voluptuous breasts and strawberry colored nipples. She didn’t make another move and I smiled; I loved the fact that she went bare so often. “Are you going to tell me what you were thinking about, Claire? Or are you going to make me guess?” Her breath hitched and she looked off to the side for a few seconds. “I was...I—” “Touch your tits...” She slowly reached up and palmed her breasts, slightly squeezing them. “No, not like that,” I shook my head. “Touch them like I do when I’m fucking you from behind.” “Jon—” “Do it.” She gasped and sat frozen. “Claire...” I narrowed my eyes at her. She blinked a few times, but then she roughly grabbed her breasts and pinched her hardened nipples—twisting them harshly, pulling them out as far as they could go. “You’re not going to tell me what you were thinking about? What you want me to do to you? How you like to be fucked?” “No...” Her breaths were becoming choppy and the expression on her face made me wish she was here with me in person, made me wish she could take care of my swelling erection. “Are you wet?” I saw one of her hands moving away from her breasts, down the screen, down to the part I couldn’t see. She didn’t answer. She just bit her lip and looked into my eyes with a sense of longing, desire. “Since you’re not going to tell me what you want me to do to you...” I adjusted my screen. “I want to fuck your mouth.” Her jaw dropped. “I’ve wanted to feel your lips wrapped around my dick since the first day we met.”

“Oh god...” She shut her eyes. “Open your eyes back up...Look at me. Look. At. Me.” She let out a muffled moan and slowly blinked. “I want to be the first man to taste you. I want to kiss your clit and fuck you with my tongue. Are you going to let me do that?” “Ahhhh...” “Answer me.” “Yessss...” “You like me talking to you like this, don’t you?” She was shutting her eyes again; slowly rocking her body back and forth against fingers that I wished weren’t hidden from me. “I can’t wait to see you in person again.” I lowered my voice. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.” “Stop...Stop talking...” “Tell me you’re mine.” I could tell she was about to cum; she was biting down on her lip and shaking her head. “Tell me right now.” “Yes...Yes...” She let go and fell back onto her pillows, “yours.” I watched her gasp for air and convulse, watched the vibrations rip through her sexy body, and waited for her to calm down. It took several minutes for her breathing to get under control, for her chest to stop heaving uncontrollably. When she was finally coherent, she reached for the laptop and brought it up to her chest. “Is your problem fixed now?” I raised my eyebrow. She lay back against her pillows and suppressed a smile. “I never had a problem...” “Of course you didn’t. What are your plans for today?” “I’m going to go for a run around seven at Golden Gate Park...You?” “A very long cold shower.” I noticed her holding back a laugh. “I don’t think too many people will be at that park around seven.” “Are you trying to ask if you can join me?” “I don’t need to.” I smiled. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Claire stopped running and plopped down on a bench right by the lake. “That trail was amazing.” She panted. “I need to rest for a minute.” I sat down next to her, watching beads of sweat trickle down her chest. It always amazed me how good she looked in everything. She was dressed in gray sweats and a light purple tank top, but she still looked stunning. “Can I ask you something?” She looked over at me. “Of course you can.” “Are you sure?” She lowered her voice. “It’s a really personal question...” “Are you mocking me? Ask me anything you want.” “Why did you feel the need to change your bio about your past for the company handbook?” Whoa...Didn’t see that one coming... “It’s complicated.” I didn’t want to talk about it. She nodded and looked off into the distance, at the birds that were now landing in droves around the lake; at the small group of kids who were attempting to build castles with wet mud. She leaned back and began stretching her muscles, holding her arms over her head and arching

her legs. I suddenly realized that unlike all the women I’d dated in the past, Claire wasn’t going to open up to me first—if she opened up at all. She didn’t trust me, and I guessed I hadn’t really given her much of a reason to. “My parents were crystal meth dealers.” I turned to face her. “They used to leave me and my little sister locked in the trailer home while they went out and sold drugs. Whenever they were home, they were either passed out high or yelling at us for shit we didn’t even do.” She crossed her legs on the bench and looked into my eyes. She looked sympathetic, but I didn’t want to turn this into an emotional tirade. I just wanted to give her the facts and move on to a different conversation. “We pretty much had to fend for ourselves. I was eight and she was three. At first, they only left us for a few hours, a night here or there. But in the summertime they would leave us locked in there for weeks at a time. The two of us would cry for someone to come help us, but no one ever did...” I sighed. “By the time I was twelve, I was taking care of my little sister all by myself and just trying to keep us out of my parents’ way. I tried to stay after school as late as I could and made sure she was out the trailer as much as possible. But on one particular Friday, all the activities were canceled because of a storm, so we had to go home. When we got there, my parents were getting into a car and saying they’d be right back. We went inside as usual and they locked the door behind us. I tucked my sister into bed and was about to take a nap, but all these pots and bottles were in flames on the stove. I tried to put the fire out, but the flames only grew bigger and bigger.” I suddenly remembered waking Hayley up, listening to her deafening screams once she saw the flames behind my back, once she realized that the flames were blocking the only door. I locked us both in the bathroom, hoping that the neighbors would see the flames—that they would call the fire department in time to get us out. But black smoke started seeping underneath the door, and I could see the metal hinges twisting and bending in the heat. I started throwing things at the small window that was above the toilet—soap dishes, shampoo bottles, the plunger— attempting the break it, but it wouldn’t crack. Hayley was crying hysterically—beating her hands against the shower glass, and I was trying my best to get that damn window open. After a while I didn’t hear her erratic screams at all. She’d passed out. “I didn’t know what to do so I just kept throwing stuff at that window. I didn’t have time to stop and help her.” “She died?” Claire looked saddened. “No.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I managed to get the window open by beating at it with a metal trash can. I picked her up and threw her out of it, and then I climbed out minutes before the whole trailer exploded...If I were to write about it in my bio, it would read something like: My parents left me and my little sister in an exploding meth lab alone and we were eventually separated and put in different foster homes while they served out long prison terms. That’s not something I really want my employees or competitors to know about. People are sick these days and will use anything in a smear campaign.” “I’m so sorry...I wouldn’t have asked if—” “It’s okay. I don’t think about it that often.” She was quiet for several moments. “Can I ask you something else?” “Is it something else depressing?” “No.” She shook her head. “It’s about the women you’ve dated before.” “Ask away.” “Have you ever dated anyone else older than you?”

“No.” “Any reason why?” “I don’t need to know how old a beautiful woman is before I ask her out.” I watched her blush. “It just never happened before you. There’s no other reason.” “And you’ve really slept with seventeen women?” “Would it make you feel better if I lied to you about it?” “Maybe. Try it.” “Okay, Claire.” I tried to sound as sincere as possible. “No, I haven’t really slept with seventeen women. That’s a ridiculous number...I made that up to seem like I was more experienced than I was. The truth is, I was a virgin when we first met. But I knew that the moment I saw you and heard a few words come out of your smart ass mouth, that it was you that I wanted to lose my virginity to. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I cried after the first time we—” “You’re so full of it.” She playfully hit my shoulder and I pulled her close to me. “I don’t lie.” I ran my fingers across her soft lips. “Unlike some people I know...” I stifled her laugh with a kiss and laid her against the park bench, but she suddenly jumped up. “Oh my god...” she said as she shook her head. “I knew we should’ve left earlier...” “What? What’s wrong?” “Claire? Mr. Statham?” Mr. Henderson, one of the campaign directors, stopped running right in front of us and took out his ear-buds. “You two are here...together?” He raised his eyebrow. Claire sighed and looked like she was about to say something, but I stood up. “Not at all, Mr. Henderson. I saw Miss Gracen running by and asked her to sit with me for a minute. Do all directors meet here on Saturday mornings? Am I keeping her away from the rest of the group?” “Oh, not at all.” He shook his head. “But I may have to start coming here more often...Claire, I had no idea you ran. Maybe we can run here together sometime?” This secret dating shit isn’t going to work for too much longer... “Um...” She looked over at me. “I’m not so—” “It was nice seeing the two of you today. It’s good to know that employees are friends outside of the office.” I looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’m going to go back to relaxing on the bench now. Have a great Saturday, Mr. Henderson.” I narrowed my eyes at Claire. “Miss Gracen.” I walked back over to the bench, only a few feet away from them, and pretended to be engrossed in my phone. “What were you saying, Claire?” He smiled at her. “I was saying that I wasn’t sure if that’d be a good idea...We’re coworkers in the same department and—” “You and I both know the fraternization policy was canceled a while ago.” He reached over and caressed her cheek with the side of his palm. “It’s just a run, Claire. If you enjoy it—and I think you would, we could even do lunch later. There’s this great sandwich shop two miles down.” “I—” “I’ve always wanted to ask you out—you’re beyond gorgeous, but with the policy and all, and you being so—” “Me being so what?” She tilted her head to the side and smiled. Is she actually entertaining him?! In front of me?! Right in front of me?! “Nothing...I just always wanted to ask you out, that’s all. Would you like to run with me next Saturday?” “I can’t. I mean, thanks for the offer but I can’t go out with you...I’m kind of seeing someone else right now.” Kind of?

“Is it completely exclusive or are you open to dating other people?” She hesitated and I almost jumped up and kissed her in broad daylight, right in front of him and anyone else that cared to watch. “I’m seeing someone else, Matthew...” “Well...” He smiled. “Let me know if it doesn’t work out, okay? I think you and I would be good together. We have a lot in common...” He looked her over one last time before he walked away. I can’t believe this woman. She has some. fucking. nerve. Mr. Henderson resumed his run and Claire walked back over to the bench. “I think we should get out of here before anyone else shows up.” She sighed. “It’s almost nine o’ clock so—” “Are you ashamed of me, Claire?” “What? No, of course not. I—” “What’s the reason behind keeping us dating a secret again? The employee policy has been changed for quite some time now.” “Because you’re the CEO and I’m a mid–level marketing director. It’s already complicated enough with the age gap, but our positions are—” “Do you want a fucking promotion? Do you want a seat on the goddamn board? What position do you fucking want because I’ll make it happen today. What do I need to do to make sure people know that you’re taken and not interested because you sure as hell don’t know how to make that clear!” “Excuse me?” She scoffed. “I don’t need you to insult me by acting like you’re in control of—” “What position do you want?” “It’s not about the position, Jonathan.” She seethed. “It’s about me knowing better than to date the CEO in the first place, who is undoubtedly the most jealous and possessive man I’ve ever met.” “You left out the sexiest.” She rolled her eyes and stood up. “I parked my car on the other side of the lake. I’ll see you at work on Monday.” “Stop.” I reached out and grabbed her arm. “I was more than honest with you. I told you I’m the jealous type and I meant that. I don’t want to see you with anyone else and I don’t want people thinking you’re on the market...What do I need to do to make sure that happens?” “Stop being so damn childish.” “I’m not being childish. I’m protecting what’s mine.” “I’m not—” “You’re not what? Mine? Is that what you were about to say?” She crossed her arms and let out an exasperated sigh. “Why did you let him touch you here?” I ran my fingertips across her cheek. “I didn’t like that...” “How was I supposed to know that he was going to touch me? I can’t read minds... We really need to leave before the morning rush. Mr. Barnes runs here sometimes, as well as a few of my associates...” “Where are you headed?” I slipped my arm around her waist. “Home.” She tried to move my hand, but I tightened my grip. “I don’t think so.” “Jonathan, I am going home. Right now. Deal with it.” “No. You’re not. You’re coming with me.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “We need to have another discussion and make sure the two of us are on the same page. I don’t think you fully understand what being mine means.” “Fine. So we’re only going to talk?” “Yes...Right after I fuck the shit out of you.”

Chapter 14 Jonathan “Could you please stop filling my office with hundreds of flowers every day? This is getting ridiculous!” Claire texted me. “I don’t want anyone thinking you’re available.” “No one thinks I’m available! I told you no one here has ever tried to talk to me but you (except for Saturday), and I’m starting to rethink our arrangement...” “Are you threatening me, Claire? You should see how people look at you when you step into meetings or when you walk down the hall. No one ever tried to talk to you because of that damn fraternization policy and they assumed you wouldn’t give them the time of day.” “I don’t make idle threats.” “I look forward to being punished. See you this evening.” “Mr. Statham?” The therapist cleared her throat. “Are you ready to begin now?” I tried not to roll my eyes. I’d hired a mediator to speak with my mother and me once a week since she and I couldn’t be in the same room for more than five minutes without arguing. Even though my mother thought this was a brilliant idea, I was beginning to have second thoughts; she didn’t look too composed today—her hair was in a frizzy ponytail, her pants weren’t ironed, and she reeked of beer and ashes. “Yes, I’m ready.” “Good.” She clasped her hands together. “We’ll start with a few simple questions to see what we’re dealing with. Mrs. Statham—I mean, Denise—what do you hope to accomplish by these sessions?” “I want my son to respect me again...I want him to welcome me back into his life so we can start over.” “Okay...” The therapist jotted down a few notes. “And what about you, Jonathan? What do you hope to gain from this?” “I have nothing to gain from this...Maybe just to be able to sit in a room with her without yelling. That would be sufficient enough.” “See?” My mom crossed her legs. “That’s exactly what I was telling you about earlier, Doctor. He only hired you to make himself look good, to make it seem like he’s trying, but he’s really not. He doesn’t give a damn about me, he—” “Have you told her how many times you’ve relapsed? How many times you’ve been in and out of prison? How you technically should be in prison right now?” “Damnit Jonathan! I’m trying to make something of myself! I’m working really hard! Stop holding my past against me! I’m—” “Calm down, Denise.” The therapist handed her a glass of water. “Jonathan, we don’t need to start pointing fingers or assigning blame at this stage. We need to start by taking things very slowly. Surely there is something you want to gain out of these sessions.” I leaned back in my chair and thought long and hard. “I don’t want to be angry with her anymore.” “Great! That’s a good start. Now Denise, I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to answer it as truthfully as possible. Jonathan, please don’t interrupt...Why do you think you and your son don’t

have a good relationship?” My mother looked at me and sighed. “I had Jonathan when I was twenty-five...I wasn’t ready for a baby but I did my best with what I had...Me and his father were working three jobs each just to make ends meet and before we knew it, we had another child, a baby girl...One day while we were going over more overdue bills, a few of his friends came over and asked if we wanted to try some meth—to stop stressing out so much you know? We both did it and—” “They went from users to chronic users to two of the most sought after meth dealers in the whole state of Ohio. It’s a very heartwarming story.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m thinking about turning it into a Christmas play.” “Jonathan, let her finish...” The therapist sighed. “Anyway,” my mother said, “I was a horrible mother...I know that, and I’ve owned that but...I was on drugs...I wasn’t myself. I didn’t mean to leave my kids hungry or neglect them...It’s completely my fault that they were taken away from me, but I’m clean now and I want a chance to be the mother I should have been back then.” “Very good start, Denise. Jonathan, how do you feel about what your mother just said?” “What do you mean ‘how do I feel’?” “How do you feel? Do you think she’s sincere?” “My mother has been clean for what? Two months now? By the end of this month, she’ll be back in rehab and won’t even remember that this session happened—which is quite fitting, because you’re not the first therapist I’ve hired and she doesn’t remember any of the other therapists either...So, I feel rather...I feel nothing.” “She apologized for leaving you and your sister hungry. She—” “The word ‘hungry’ implies wanting something to eat—knowing that it’s only a matter of time before some type of food is placed in front of you. My mother did not leave us hungry. She left us starving. We went days, sometimes weeks, locked inside our trailer with just rice grains to eat. It wasn’t until I realized that I could climb out the window and get to the dumpsters that I realized what the word ‘hungry’ meant.” There was silence. The therapist took off her glasses and looked back and forth between the two of us. “Okay, we clearly have a lot of work to do over the next few months....Let’s take a break and reconvene next week. Okay?” “Great.” I stood up and offered a hug to my mother. Even though I was beyond furious with her, I always made a point to do that, just in case she relapsed before our next encounter and I wouldn’t see her for another eight months. “Do you want to get dinner tonight?” She hugged me back. “We don’t have to say a word to each other. We could go to one of those restaurants that plays movies. We never watched any movies together...” And we probably never will. “Maybe some other time. I have a date tonight.”

I parked in front of Claire’s house and hit my emergency brake so my car wouldn’t roll down the hill. I’d been meaning to ask why the hell she’d bought a house at the top of a slope; it didn’t seem safe. “You’re early...What type of car is that?” She texted me. “A Murcielago. The meeting was cut short. Take your time getting ready...Wear a dress.” I pulled out my phone and scrolled through a few of my emails, skimming through most of them. I’d been receiving at least five hundred a day since word got out about my company going public. I’d

even had to hire a temporary email consultant to sort through them all. This IPO is going to be the death of me... I looked up and saw Claire locking the front door of her house. I stepped out of the car and walked over to the passenger side. “Nice pantsuit.” I laughed. “I actually like this one.” “Thank you. I figured I’d wear the outfit you liked me in best.” She slipped into the car. I walked back over to my side and sped away. “Where are we going today?” she asked. “Did you shut down Ocean Beach so we could eat there?” “Would you like me to?” She shook her head and smiled. “We’re going to Pittsburgh Rivers.” “What?” She paled. “Pittsburgh Rivers. It’s a specialty restaurant a few miles from here. They have themed meals from the city. I was hoping you’d be able to suggest some things for me to try since that’s your hometown.” “Oh...” “Are you okay?” “Yes.” She turned her head towards the window. “I’m fine.” I pulled into the parking lot minutes later and looked at her. She hadn’t said much of anything on the drive over. She’d been strangely quiet and hadn’t given me any of her usual sarcasm. “Are you sure that you’re okay, Claire? We don’t have to eat here if you don’t want to. We can go to my beach house or—” “I’m sure. I’m just a little tired...” I knew she was lying, but I decided not to push the issue any further. I helped her out of the car and led her into the restaurant. “Good evening, Mr. Statham. Right this way.” The host greeted me as soon as I stepped inside and ushered us into a private room. The walls were painted in murals of all the popular Pittsburgh landmarks—Heinz Field, Cathedral of Learning, Carnegie Museum—and I thought Claire would start chatting about them, but she didn’t say a word. “Welcome to Pittsburgh Rivers, San Francisco’s own version of the great city of Pittsburgh,” our waiter said. He pulled a few menus from his apron and looked back and forth between us. “Will you two require a full or a half menu tonight? The Hot Metal Bridge special is only available on the full one.” “Full.” I noticed Claire wincing. “Fine choice. I’ll bring out those menus right away sir. Would you be interested in the chef’s special wine? It was imported directly from a French winery.” “What is it?” “It’s a wonderful wine, a hand-pressed 1975 Bordeaux and—” Claire started coughing and stood up. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I’ll be right back.” “No, thank you...” I watched her saunter off. “We’ll have your best champagne.” “Yes sir.” He walked away. I scrolled through my emails again, waiting on Claire to rejoin me at the table, but twenty minutes passed and she never returned. I stood up and headed to the bathroom, knocking before I walked in. “Claire?” “I’ll be out in a minute.” She sighed.

I stepped inside and locked the door behind me. I walked past all the empty stalls and spotted her sitting at a vanity with her head down. “What’s wrong?” I touched her shoulder. “Tell me.” “Can we...” She slowly turned around to face me. “Can we please get the hell out of here?” “Where do you want to go?” “Anywhere but here...” I reached for her hand and led her back outside. I wanted to drive to my beach house, but it was forty minutes away so I headed for my condo downtown. Once again, she said nothing to me during the drive. She kept her head turned towards the window and I caught her wiping away a stray tear. “Welcome back, Mr. Statham.” The valet caught my keys as soon as I pulled up to the building. “Thank you, Mr. Reese.” I helped Claire out of the car. “Could you keep it on the bottom level?” “Of course.” I pulled Claire close to me as we stepped onto the elevator, watching her face pale in the reflection of the doors. When we reached my place, I led her over to a sofa and sat next to her. “Talk to me...Tell me what’s wrong.” “I’ll be fine. I’m just having a bad day.” She forced a smile. “Do you have any movies here? We should watch—” I cupped her face in my hands. “If you and I are going to work, you’re going to have to open up to me...If this was strictly physical or if I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t be concerned, but I do care. You can trust me.” “So, you don’t have any movies here?” “We’re not watching any movies. You’re going to tell me why you’re upset. You completely changed once I mentioned Pittsburgh Rivers and I want to know why. You can sit here and be silent for as long as you want, but we’re not leaving this room until you tell me.” She leaned back against the couch and shut her eyes. Fair enough... I tapped my phone and prepared to order dinner, but she turned to face me. “My ex-husband proposed to me at Heinz Field,” she said. “He knew one of the physical trainers that worked for the football team and he let us in after hours. I thought we were going there to take a private tour, but he walked me out to the fifty yard line and proposed to me...It was so romantic. He even managed to get the scoreboard to read ‘Will you marry me?’ in bright yellow lights. I just knew that he was the one after that...until fourteen years later when I found out that he and my best friend had been having an affair and she was pregnant by him...Everything that I thought was beautiful about my life in Pittsburgh became ugly after that.” I suddenly felt guilty for suggesting that restaurant, for thinking it would stir up good memories and conversation. “I don’t think about it as much as I used to, but there are still little reminders here or there and I just...” “You just what?” I pulled her closer. “I still can’t believe it on some days...My best friend and my husband? The two people I trusted the most?” She sighed. “She and I used to take a road trip to New York every year to celebrate her birthday. We always did the same thing: Times Square, a Broadway play, and a night on the town...” “The last time we went there together, she was three months pregnant and I was buying her all these cute little baby clothes because I was so happy for her...I can’t help but think how sick of a person she really was—to celebrate her birthday with me, knowing that my husband’s child was growing inside of her...How fucking disgusting is that?”

She leaned against me. “When I asked my husband why he did it—why he would even think to cheat on me with my best friend, he said there’d always been something between the two of them. He said he’d had feelings for her since the first day they met, but he thought being with me was the safe and secure choice...Then, one night while they were drinking—at my house ironically, one thing led to another and...And after years of suppressing their feelings, they just couldn’t deny it anymore...Isn’t that the stupidest shit you’ve ever heard?” I didn’t say anything. I just gently rubbed her back. “They had another little girl last year...They’ve traveled all around the world together and done all the things I thought he and I would be doing together at this point...He even took her to the Panama Canal, where we were supposed to go...He said he would take me sailing there for our fifteenth anniversary, but we never made it because...because...” She stopped and shook her head. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Claire...” I expected her to say more, to cry even, but she simply buried her head in my chest and drifted into a deep sleep.

I felt Claire nuzzling my chest and set my phone down. “What time is it?” she murmured. “Nine fifteen. Are you hungry? Would you like to get something to eat?” “No. I’m okay.” She moved out of my lap. “You can take me home now.” I don’t think so... “What do you normally do when you’re upset? What makes you feel better?” “Home Depot...Or more recently, sex with you.” I laughed. “The home improvement store? Why?” “I can’t explain it. One step inside that store and I just...All my problems go away for a while. I get lost in the paint swatches, the tiles, the bathroom fixtures, and—everything.” “Would you like to go there now?” “It closed at nine o’ clock...” She frowned. “That’s not what I asked you.” “Yes...If it were possible, right now would be a perfect time to go.” I picked up my phone. “Hey, Corey? I need you to do me a favor.”

“The manager says you have two hours and he wants every item you take to be scanned on register number one. He wants a sTablet the day it comes out, and he’ll send you the bill tomorrow.” Corey typed a few things onto his tablet and the doors to Home Depot slid open. Claire looked up at me and smiled as she made her way into the store, leaving me standing alone with Corey. “Okay, seriously...” Corey said once she was out of earshot. “Does she have any friends who look half as good as she does? I need someone too, you know.” “Watch it. I thought you had a date tonight. What happened with that?” “She was an airhead. All she talked about was what type of clothes she wanted to wear to some celebrity party in L.A...We did have sex in my car on the way back though—which was amazing, but I don’t think I can sit through another dinner with her. One was painful enough.” “I’m sure you’ll have someone else by tomorrow. Did you finish the Sorrento account?”

“Of course I did. No thanks to you.” He laughed. “We now have the best security tracking system I’ve ever seen. It’s been three days and I haven’t been able to hack into it from the outside. That’s a pretty good sign.” “Good to know. Could you deactivate all the cameras in the store?” “Ten steps ahead of you.” He patted my shoulder and started stepping backwards. “The next time you want to interrupt my favorite show, just so you can break into a hardware store after-hours, please hesitate to let me know.” I walked over to where I saw Claire disappear to and spotted her on the ceiling fan aisle. “Thank you so much.” Her eyes met mine. “I only need to get a few things...I left my wallet at home so I’ll pay you back for —” “Get anything you want. You should know that you don’t have to pay me back.” Her eyes lit up. “Anything I want?” “Yes.” I kissed her lips. “Anything you want.” “Well, in that case, we might be here for a while...”

It was midnight by the time she’d picked out everything she wanted, and we’d filled six carts to capacity. We were walking around the small pond in the outdoor greenery area, holding hands and laughing at the fish that were flopping across the surface. “When do you want to start scanning everything?” She looked up at me. “Never. We’re not scanning any of it. I’ll write the manager a check and cover all his inventory losses at the end of the year.” “Okay...Well, are we going to start loading up your car? How many trips do you think it’ll—” “It’s already been taken care of.” I pulled her into my arms. “Don’t worry about it.” I smiled as I slid a hand underneath her shirt. “You know, your creativity never ceases to amaze me...” “What are you talking about?” “Why do you like wearing pantsuits all of sudden? You’ve been wearing them all week.” She smirked. “No reason. I haven’t put that much thought into it.” She tried to step away from me, but I tightened my grip around her. “Do you honestly think wearing pantsuits will keep me from—” “From fucking me inside of Home Depot? I hope so.” I unsnapped her bra and kissed her neck. “It won’t.” “Jonathan, there are cameras! I’m—” “Corey turned them all off.” I pulled her down into a bed of grass. “My driver won’t be here with the truck for another hour. That’s plenty of time, don’t you think?” I reached down and unzipped her pants. “Have I ever told you that you’re ridiculously insatiable?” “Only when it comes to you.”

April 14, 2013 Dear Journal, I wish there was a better way to screen potential employees for jobs, a better way to see through people’s bullshit. In every interview, the candidate always says exactly what he’s supposed to say: “My biggest weakness is trying to be a perfectionist all the time.” “I truly believe I’m the best person for this job because I’m driven, I work hard, and I’m always willing to go the extra mile.” “Oh no, I’ve never been late to work. Ever.” During his trial period, he’s the most exemplary candidate in the world—showing up early every day, offering to buy all his coworkers coffee, and staying late on every campaign assignment...But as soon as that ninety day trial period is up, he becomes an ass. A complete and total ass. We hired a new regional director at the beginning of the year, to help us revive our city billboard operations, and once he was “officially” in the position he started acting like he was the CEO. He took over in all the meetings—talking over anyone who disagreed with him and insisting that his ideas were “simply the best.” He began ordering my associates around—treating them like crap, and badmouthing them at all our directors’ seminars. While he was in the middle of saying how he couldn’t believe “how dimwitted and dumb” they were—questioning how any of them had “ever managed to get through college in the first place,” I let him have it. I told him that he was a fucking idiot and that the only reason we agreed to hire him was because our first choice failed the drug test. (By the way, when did employers start testing for opium? And where the hell do people find opium?!) “And yeah,” I said, “my associates may be dumb as rocks and they may not know a goddamn thing about marketing, but they’re my associates and nobody can talk bad about them but me!” People these days, Claire

Chapter 15 Claire It’s not real, it’s not real...Breathe, Claire...Breathe... I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs to the kitchen. I opened a cabinet and grabbed a packet of Tylenol, tossing the pills down my throat. I flung the refrigerator door open and reached for a bottle of water, downing it in one gulp. I took out another one as soon as I finished. This happened to me every year—every. single. year. Every time my wedding anniversary rolled around. I shut my eyes and tried to calm myself down from the nightmare I’d just had—the one that featured my husband running off with my best friend, the one that featured her getting pregnant with his baby. But, once I opened my eyes and looked around, once I saw that my kitchen was not our kitchen, I realized that it wasn’t a nightmare after all. I sank down to the floor and sighed, trying to make myself think of something else—anything else, but another ugly memory forced itself across my mind...

It was weeks after the hurtful revelation, and Amanda hadn’t called or texted me to say that she was sorry. She hadn’t said a word about her part in the affair to any of our mutual friends. Nada. Zilch. Nothing. I walked into our neighborhood grocery store—puffy eyed, drained, and ugly, and spotted her in a wrinkled red sundress. I saw her turning down the very aisle I needed: Specialty ice cream. I knew she was going to pick out our favorite mint chocolate chip brand and cry just like I’d planned to, but we weren’t going to be crying together this time. We were going to be crying separately, over the same situation that had broken us in two very different ways. I followed her down the aisle and tapped her on the shoulder. “Yes? May I—” She dropped the carton to the floor as soon as her swollen eyes met mine. There was silence as we looked at one another, as we searched for something to say about a situation best friends should never have to go through. I tried to control my anger, tried to step back and take a slow deep breath, but it didn’t work. I drew my hand back and slapped the shit out of her. She gasped and reached up to touch her cheek. The fact that I almost felt sorry for her made me want to vomit. “I deserved that...” she whispered. “No shit.” “I am...I am so so sorry, Claire.” Her voice cracked. She uncovered her cheek and I saw the beautiful red imprint of my hand. “I never ever wanted to hurt you...I wanted to call you and say something but...I already know you’ll never forgive me for what’s happened...If I could take everything back, I swear I would. I didn’t realize that—”

“That I was married? That you were the maid of honor at my wedding? That you helped me shop for an anniversary present every year? What exactly didn’t you realize?” “I didn’t think our feelings were—” “Real? Genuine? Worth mentioning before I tied the knot? As much as it would’ve hurt me, Amanda—as much as I would’ve cried over it—if you had just said, ‘Hey. I have feelings for Ryan and he has feelings for me too,’ before we got married, hell before we got engaged this would’ve...” I couldn’t hold back my tears. “Do you even realize how fucked up this all is? This isn’t some goddamn romance book on your shelf, Amanda! This is my fucking life!” “I really am sorry...I—” “When the fuck were you going to tell me?” I wanted to slap her again. “Huh? When the baby was born? When he turned two? At one point did you and Ryan think about letting your spouses in on this twisted ass joke?” “Listen to—” “Answer the goddamn question!” She sighed. “We never discussed that...” “Of course you didn’t...I guess fucking each other all the time was conversation enough.” I moved past her and took two cartons of mint chocolate chip from the fridge. “Claire, wait...I’ll always hate myself for—” “That makes two of us. We’ve always shared the same enemies.” “I can’t say how sorr—” “The only reason I’m not stomping the living shit out of you right now is because you’re carrying a baby—my ex-husband’s baby. But the more I stand here looking at how pathetic you are, I’m tempted to disregard that fact because you’re not really sorry, Amanda. You’re only sorry because you got caught. And you’re right, I will never forgive you.”

I swallowed one more Tylenol pill and washed it down. I looked at my watch and realized it was noon. I can’t waste my whole weekend thinking about this... I need to do something... I walked over to the pantry and saw that there was nothing inside but a box of cereal and a jar of unopened peanut butter. Problem solved...

I stood in front of the meat freezer at Whole Foods, debating whether I should buy two or three packages of chicken. Since Ashley had recently given up her “vegan-status,” she and Caroline were on some type of “all-protein” fix and they’d been eating meat like crazy. For the past few nights, I’d witnessed them scarf down grilled ham sandwiches, burritos, and turkey burgers like their lives depended on it. I decided to go with three and headed for the register. As usual, there were only two cashiers working, and since it was Saturday—the day everyone else did their shopping, I prepared myself for a long wait in line. I picked up a copy of Cosmopolitan magazine and skimmed through the pages, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous article titles: “The Number One Thing He Craves in Bed Tonight...” “How to Break the Three Date Rule,” and “Two Hundred Sex Tricks That Will Make Him Love You.” I turned to another page and saw an article entitled, “For ANY Relationship: How to Keep Things Spicy.” I read the first paragraph and rolled my eyes, but I kept reading:

“The key to any relationship—whether you’re young or a little more mature in age—is not communication! (Well, that IS important but we’ll get to that later.) The key is variety—within your date nights, within your displays of affection, and within your bedroom. “Since this is Cosmo, we’re going to focus on key number three! Your bedroom! “Sex should never be the same thing day in and day out. It should be spontaneous, passionate, and so amazingly good that you and your guy think about it for days after. (If you’re not already having sex again that is...) “Our senior editors decided to take the plunge for you, interviewing over a thousand men for this feature. They asked each of them what they liked most about the women they’ve dated, what turns them on, and most importantly how important variety is to a relationship. “Feel free to read exclusive interviews on the next page, but for now, we’re going to give you a list of tips to automatically boost your sex life and add some much needed variety! “1. Sexting! Sexting is a—” I couldn’t read anymore. I reached for something safer—Oprah’s O magazine, and searched for her most recent book club picks. I moved up two spaces in line and cursed under my breath. There was an elderly couple arguing with the cashier about a stack of coupons. “Excuse me?” A blonde tapped my shoulder. “Yes?” “Could you pass me a copy of Cosmo please?” “Sure.” I picked one up and handed it to her. “You know, a lot of it is crazy but some of this stuff actually works on my husband.” She laughed and walked away. She’s got to be kidding me... I pulled Cosmo off the rack again and read the rest of the article: “1. Sexting! Sexting is a great way to spice up any relationship! Now, if you’ve never done it before, you may want to start off with a regular text conversation to make sure that he’s near his phone and it won’t be seen by anyone else. “Once you’ve committed to sexting, you should simply text your guy something simple, something like “I’m sooo horny” and then say something short and naughty right after. For example: “I’m sooo horny. I wish you could see what I have on right now.” “Once your guy sees the text, he’ll definitely text you something naughty back. Don’t let it die down after this! Continue engaging him in sexy banter all day. “The next time you two are together, he’ll be reminded of your messages and want to live out everything the both of you ‘sexted’ about. “Trust us, nearly every guy we interviewed said engaging in sexting was one of the best things that—” “These are supposed to be double coupons!” “We are not paying an extra dollar!” “Where is the manager?” The elderly couple ahead interrupted my reading. I sighed. I figured I might as well try to have some fun while I waited in line. I pulled my phone out and sent Jonathan a text: “I’m sooo horny. I can’t wait to ride your dick again...” I found my place in the article once more and started reading about points two and three: Homemade sex tapes and weekend sex retreats. My phone started ringing and I answered without looking at the screen. I was too wrapped up in reading about the benefits of using flavored condoms. “Hello?”

“If you want to ride my dick that badly, you don’t have to wait. Where are you?” Jonathan?! “You’re supposed to text back! Not call me! Why can’t you just text back like a normal —” “Where. Are. You?” My body tingled from the sound of his voice. “I’m at Whole Foods...” “Which one?” “The one on Fourth Street...” “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Go to your car and get in the back seat.” He hung up. Ugh. Fuck Cosmo... They clearly didn’t interview any “Jonathan Statham” types... “Ma’am? Ma’am?” The cashier looked at me. “You can start unloading your cart now...” “Um, actually...I need to get something else...” I pushed my cart out of line and parked it in the soft drinks aisle. I headed to the restroom and looked myself over: Pink collared shirt, light blue jeans, slightly tousled hair. My cheeks were bright red and my body was aching—longing to be touched; I had to silently scold myself to calm down. Am I really this insatiable? Am I as bad as he is? I took a deep breath and walked out, taking my time to get through the store and into the parking lot. I found my car and fumbled around in my purse for the keys, dropping them to the ground. I bent down to pick them up, but Jonathan grabbed them before I could. “Good afternoon, Claire,” he whispered against my neck, setting my nerves on fire. “Hi...” He kept the keys in his hand and unlocked the back door. “You first.” I stepped inside and scooted over to the window. He stepped in after me and shut the door. I looked away, but he reached over and tilted my face towards him. I was literally trembling in anticipation, wondering when he would start ripping my clothes off. Instead, he simply looked into my eyes, tracing his fingertips along my jawline—along my lips. Without breaking gaze with me, he slid closer and gently dragged my headband away from my hair. He tossed it towards the front seat and cupped my face in his hands, still staring into my eyes, making me wet while barely touching me. “What made you text me that today?” he asked, dropping his hands to unbutton my jeans. “I was trying to do the sexting thing...” “The sexting thing?” He pushed my pants down. “Yes. You were supposed to text me back. Then, we were supposed to send sexy messages back and forth all day so—” “I don’t do sexting.” He unbuckled his belt and slid out of his pants. “Why not?” “I prefer to bypass the bullshit.” He laid me across the seat and tugged my pants to my ankles. “What were the exact words of your text again?” “Pull out your phone and look it up.” “Excuse me?” “I didn’t stutter...” “Neither did I.” He raised his eyebrow. “I’m only going to ask you one more time.” “Good, because I’m going to give you the exact same answer.” He smiled as he slid my shirt over my head. “You make things so fucking difficult sometimes. We need to work on changing that.” He flipped me over on my stomach before I could say something back. “Ahhhh...” I felt him giving my ass a soft slap and snapping my bra off.

My breath caught in my throat once I felt him tying my hands behind my back with his belt, once I heard him unwrapping a condom. “Do you get some type of pleasure out of being difficult?” He slipped two fingers inside of me. “No...” “Are you sure?” He tightened the belt around my wrists. “You sure you don’t enjoy it?” “Yes... I’m sure...” “I’m not.” He slowly slid his dick into me—not all the way, just enough to make me murmur, enough to make me regret not answering his question. He planted kisses on my bound hands, running his tongue across my wrists, gently biting each of my fingertips. He ran his hands along my sides and sighed, placing light kisses in the groove of my back. I tried to stifle my moans but I couldn’t; he knew my body too well. “Admit that you like being difficult.” He slid into me a little further. “I don’t...” “Then tell me what your text said.” “It said that I—” I screamed as he buried himself deep inside of me, as he kept my body pinned down to the seat with his arms. “Ohhh...Jonathannnn...” “Tell. Me. What. Your Text. Said.” He pounded into me over and over, never giving me the chance to catch a breath. He repeated his question, more sternly this time, and forcefully tugged my hair back with each stroke. “I...” I felt him slapping my ass and my clit throbbed with insane pleasure. “Do you need a hint?” “No...” “Then say it.” He slowed his pace, but he kept thrusting in and out of me and pulling my hair. “It said that...that...” “Yes?” “That I...” He slapped my ass again. “That you what?” “That I can’t wait to...to ride your dick again.” “Hmmm...” He pulled out of me and untied my hands, kissing my hands as he did it. “Was that so hard to say? Why couldn’t you say that a few minutes ago?” I didn’t get a chance to answer him. He’d already flipped me over so that I was on top of him. He brushed a few strands of hair away from my face and leaned up to kiss me—gently biting my bottom lip and caressing my back. I was looking into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, and he was looking back into mine. I didn’t want to say a word; I felt like we could sit like that forever and communicate just by gazing at one another. He smiled and lay back against the seat. I slowly adjusted my legs and straddled him, slowly sinking myself onto his dick. I gasped once he was completely inside of me; shut my eyes once he gripped my hips. “Don’t close your eyes,” he whispered. “I want to look at you.” He waited for me to blink them open, commanding me to move without saying another word. I pressed my palms onto his chest and started to rock—back and forth, up and down, around and around. I moaned as he reached up and caressed my breasts with his hands, as he rolled my nipples between his fingers. “Claire...” He kept his eyes locked on mine. “Lean forward.”

“No.” I leaned back and put my arms behind me, grabbing onto his thighs, and rotated my hips. I tried to keep a steady rhythm—a steady slow one, but my body’s needs overrode my mind’s thoughts. “Ahhhh...” I let go of his legs and leaned forward, driving myself deeper and deeper into him, screaming as he met me thrust for thrust. He reached for my hands, intertwining his fingers with mine. “Don’t stop...” His breathing was becoming erratic. “I’mmmm...I’m about to...I—” “Don’t cum yet.” He let my hands go and wrapped his arms around me, giving me an intense stare. “Wait for me.” “I can’t...I—” “Wait.” My hips were bucking wildly; my breaths were becoming shorter and shorter. If he didn’t let me cum soon I was going to lose the ability to breathe. He rose up, still buried deep inside of me with his arms around my waist, and took what little breath I had away with an open mouthed kiss. “Let go,” he whispered against my lips and my insides exploded all around him. I felt him jerking inside of me and that sent another scream-worthy sensation ripping through my body. The force of it knocked me forward into his chest and made both of us fall back against seat. “You’re amazing...” He rubbed his palms against my back. I murmured something, maybe “thank you,” and continued sucking in as much air as I could. I was breathing like I’d just finished a marathon—still shuddering from that mind-blowing climax. I can’t believe I just had sex in a grocery store parking lot...What the hell is wrong with me? I took a few more deep breaths, breathing in the sweet scent of his cologne. I winced as he moved me off of him, as he sat up and began picking up my clothes. “We have a lot of sex, Jonathan...” I gasped once I realized that I’d said that out loud. “Is that a problem?” “No...It’s just different for me...” “Me too.” He sat next to me and smoothed my hair with his hands. I find that hard to believe... “How is it different for you? You didn’t have endless sex with any of the other sixteen women?” “No.” “I thought you said you didn’t lie. I refuse to believe that you didn’t indulge or enjoy—” “Claire,” he said, letting out an exasperated sigh, “you’re completely incomparable to any woman I’ve ever dated. Period.” “I—” He pressed his fingers against my lips. “I don’t like to compare past relationships, but since I know you’ll keep thinking about it if I don’t...” He looked into my eyes. “I did enjoy having sex with the women of my past—I liked it. Really liked it. But I honestly could’ve done without it because it was never memorable. It never made me feel anything. It’s not like that with you. I love having sex with you, and I personally don’t think we have enough. But that’s not the only reason why this is different for me...In my past relationships, I never thought about any of them the way I think about you. You’d be surprised how often you cross my mind...Do I need to say more or is that answer good enough for now?” “For now.” I smiled and he gave me a kiss. “Are you going to finish your grocery shopping now?” He held my shirt up so I could slip my arms through it. “No. I can’t go back in there...”

“Why not?” “Because everyone will know that I just had sex.” “How?” “I’m pretty sure the sweat and the male cologne on my skin will give it away.” “So?” “So, I’m not going in there.” I rolled my eyes as he helped me into my pants. “Would it help if I went in with you?” “Um, no.” “Because we’re in public, right?” He shook his head and handed me his phone. “I’ll have Greg get your stuff and deliver it to your place tonight. Type everything you need, specific brands if you have preferences.” I typed everything that was in my cart and a few extra things I’d forgotten about. I pulled out my credit card and handed it to him once he was on the phone. “Greg? Yes.” He eyed the card suspiciously and handed it back to me. “I just sent you a list of things that Miss Gracen needs for tonight. Make sure it’s done as soon as possible. Thank you.” “You don’t have to pay for—” My sentence was cut off once he leaned forward and kissed me. “Stop it.” He smiled. “I want to take you somewhere.” “Now?” “Yes. Now. Give me your keys. I’ll drive.”

I opened my eyes and realized I was lying on the hood of my car. It was unusually warm outside and the wind was soft and gentle. I turned on my side and saw Jonathan smiling at me. “Did you get enough rest?” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “How long was I asleep?” “Not that long.” “Oh... Any reason why we’re lying on the hood of my car?” “I don’t think you can fully appreciate the view from the front seat.” I turned my head and saw that we were at a clearing on the ocean. We were parked on the edge of a private dock that overlooked a grassy mountain range—low enough to feel the soft sprays of the sea. There was a shoreline a few feet behind us, with a row of wooden villas that were slightly secluded by overgrown trees. Where are we? I’ve never seen this side of— “Tell me something that I don’t know about you.” He moved closer and held my hand. “I think I might be attracted to you...” “Something that I don’t know.” He smiled. “I knew that the first day we met.” “You’re so full of yourself...I wanted to be an actress when I was growing up.” “Really?” “Yeah. I was in every play in high school and I was in drama clubs all over the city. I just knew that that was what I was going to be...My classmates even voted me ‘Most Likely to be Famous’ in the yearbook.” “Why didn’t you pursue that when you went to college?” The flag charms on my necklace suddenly felt heavy and my heart began to ache. I could feel a lump rising up my throat but I pushed it back down. “I...” I couldn’t talk about that. Not today. Not ever. “I just didn’t have the heart for it anymore...Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“I used to be fat.” I burst into laughter. “I don’t believe you!” “It’s true. I don’t know how it was possible since I starved for half my childhood, but I was chubby up until my first semester of college...Then I was forced to change.” “Why?” He put his arm around my shoulders. “I really needed a third job because the hours I was getting at the car wash and the coffee shop weren’t cutting it...The one place that was always looking for new talent told me they’d take me on if I lost weight and got in shape.” “What type of job makes you lose weight?” “A high paying one with lots of desperate women...” “You sold yourself for money?” He laughed. “No. I danced.” I was quiet for several seconds. I guessed it made sense that a theater company would want its dancers to be thin and fit. Although, men appreciated the art of dance too so I didn’t quite understand the “desperate women” part. “You did ballet?” I asked. “Was it hard to—” “Seriously? No, I did not do ballet. I was a stripper. In a strip club.” I blinked. I knew my cheeks were on fire but I tried to put on my best poker face anyway. “I don’t know if I can believe that...” But I want to... He pulled his phone out and scrolled through a gallery of pictures, stopping on one that featured a group of men dressed in various costumes—postal workers, policemen, Indians, cowboys. “That’s me in the back—in the fireman costume.” He smiled. “I had to pay a lot of money to make sure none of these photos resurfaced...Do you believe me now?” I didn’t say anything. I just smiled. “Tell me something else, Claire.” “Um...” I paused. “My ultimate dream...After I quit Statham Industries and start my design company, I want to sail the world on a luxury liner. I want to rent one for a whole year and stop as many places as I can.” “By yourself?” “With my friends—my female friends.” “Duly noted.” He grinned. “It’s your turn to—” “You’re a vision. Do you know that? Do you know how beautiful you are?” He trailed his fingertips across my lips. “I don’t think you fully understand that sometimes... I could gaze at you all day.” My heart started fluttering and I wanted to say “Thank you, you too,” but the words locked themselves in my throat. “You’re not thinking about anything right now are you?” I shook my head. “Good.” He slid off the hood and pulled me up. “Leave your phone there...I’ve always wanted to do this to someone.” “Do wh—” Before I could get the words out, he was picking me up and my body was free falling in the air. The next thing I knew, I was hitting the cold waters of the ocean and sinking down below. I frantically swam back up to the surface, splashing all around and gasping for air, looking for wherever he was so I could kill him. He came up to the surface a few feet away, laughing. “Did you like that? Corey claims some water from the Fountain of Youth was poured in here centuries ago. If he’s right we’ll wake up ten years

younger tomorrow.” “Are you crazy? What if I didn’t know how to swim? You can’t just throw people into the ocean!” He shrugged. “I guess you would’ve died...But since you told me you knew how to swim weeks ago, I’m glad that wasn’t a lie.” “Do you record our conversations?” “Every single one.” “Whatever. You expect me to drive home wet?” “Not this type of wet, no.” “I’m serious!” “It’s taken care of. Greg will be here soon. In the meantime...” He gave me one of his ‘I’m about to fuck you’ looks and moved towards me. I swam away from him as fast as I could, heading towards the beach. As the cool waves lapped up against my skin, I realized that I’d never felt so free, so alive. Once I made it to the shoreline, I stood up and tried to run, but Jonathan grabbed me from behind and pulled me down to the sand. “I don’t think sand and sex go together.” I laughed as he pinched my nipples through my wet shirt. “Who said anything about sex? Is that always on your mind?” “Is it always on yours?” “Of course.” He laughed. “Come on, we need to get out of these clothes.” He helped me up and walked me along the beach, to one of the small wooden villas. He entered a code on a small keypad and the door glided open. He waited for me to walk inside and motioned for me to sit on a white loveseat. I looked all around, in genuine awe of the place. It was fitted with a beautiful brick fireplace, a state of the art kitchen, and I could see a large bedroom across the hall. “Is this your vacation rental?” “A rental?” He opened a closet. “No, I own this. I own all of them.” “Why do you need so many?” “I had them built last year. One of the members on my board asked me to invest in a similar project in Florida. After seeing how profitable it was, I decided to open my own here. They’ll be available for people to rent in a few months. Would you like one for yourself?” “Oh, no...I probably couldn’t afford—” “You wouldn’t have to pay for it.” He handed me a stack of towels and a small white box. “You should know better than that by now.” I opened the box and saw silk panties, a pair of gray sweats, a pink T-shirt, and matching flip flops. “You’re always prepared aren’t you? How many sets of these do you—” “I bought everything in that box just for you,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’d planned on bringing you here after our first date at Michel Mina’s, but I believe you stood me up.” “You’re still not over that?” “I’m getting there. You can go change in the bedroom. Would you like a sandwich?” “Yes...Thank you.” I walked over to the bedroom and closed the door. This is beautiful... The room was set up like a dream suite: The satin canopy that hung from the ceiling was swaying back and forth in the wind. The elegant bed was covered in a sea blue duvet that complemented all the white furniture. I ran my hands across the sheets and knew that their thread count was in the thousands. I drew the drapes completely open and gasped at the breathtaking view; I could see the ocean waves lapping up over the shore, the seagulls circling around the dock above.

Sighing, I pulled the drapes closed and peeled out of my wet clothes. I bent over to pick up the stack of towels and froze—Jonathan had walked into the room. He wasn’t wearing anything but a towel around his waist, and I was pretty sure he couldn’t see me from where he was standing. He stepped further into the room. “I forgot to ask what type of sandwich you—” His eyes met mine. He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t look like he even remembered that he was talking. He was standing there staring at my naked body, making me blush red all over. He walked over and picked up my towels. “Face the window.” I froze. I couldn’t function—couldn’t even breathe, when he looked at me like that. He kissed my lips and smiled. He pulled my hair on top of my head and tucked it into a towel, planting light kisses all over my face. He took another towel and slowly brushed it over my shoulders, my breasts, and my stomach. “So beautiful...” I gasped as he bent down in front of me and rubbed it between my legs, as he kissed the inside of my thighs and groaned. He stood back up and looked into my eyes, sighing. “What type of sandwich do you want?” “Turkey...” “With cheese?” I nodded. “Don’t take too long getting dressed.” He kissed my forehead and left the room. I collapsed onto the bed and shook my head in disbelief. I knew I’d be in serious trouble if I didn’t walk away from him right now. If I left this room and didn’t ask him to take me home right away, I wouldn’t be able to rein in my feelings for another minute. He was getting to me and I couldn’t deny it anymore. I thought about him all the time. My heart did flips whenever I saw him at work, and I looked forward to hearing his sexy voice over the phone at night. This is not how this was supposed to go... I sat up and reached for the clothes he’d bought me. I slipped into them and smiled once I saw that they fit me perfectly. I kicked on the flip flops and headed back out into the kitchen, rehearsing a short speech in my head: Jonathan...I need you to take me home. We can talk about why on the way, but I don’t think— He looked up and smiled once I stepped into the room, making me lose my train of thought. Screw it...I’ll just take the trouble... He handed me a plate and walked me outside, to a small wooden swing that was standing on the porch. He waited for me to sit down first and placed his arm around my shoulder. Our special silence slowly crept in on us and we ate our food without saying a word. We simply looked out at the ocean, at the calm waves that were frothing and foaming against the coast. As soon as I set my empty plate on the ground, he pulled me into his lap and held me close. I lay back in his arms and smiled as he kissed me—repeatedly.

Chapter 16 Claire I tossed and turned in my bed, wishing I could somehow will myself to sleep, but it wasn’t working. All I could think about was him—him touching me, him kissing me, him getting to me. After he dropped me off at home yesterday, I promised myself that I would spend my Sunday alone so I could further analyze the situation between him and me. I needed to write down my expectations, best and worst case scenarios, and weigh all the pros and cons of whatever the hell this was. I even told Sandra and Helen to come over so we could discuss it over chilled wine and cheese— so they could distract me from calling or texting him. All of a sudden, my “get ready to run” alarm started ringing. I knocked my phone off the nightstand to get it to shut up. There was no way I was running this morning. My phone hit the floor with a thud, but the alarm kept blaring on and on. “Ugh!” I rolled off the bed and onto the floor, feeling around for it in the dark. Once I finally had it in my hand, I looked to hit “dismiss” but I saw that it was a phone call. It was Jonathan. “Hello?” I answered. “What are you doing?” “At five in the morning?” I groaned. “Take an easy guess.” “Are you on your way outside to let me take you away for the day?” “What! No. I’m going back to bed. I went out with you yesterday. We don’t need to—” “Can I please take you out for the day?” “No. You should’ve mentioned this earlier. I have—” “I’m not the ‘keep asking’ type, Claire. You have twenty minutes.” He hung up. What?! I lay on the floor, confused—processing what the hell was going on. I had plans for today— concrete, definite, no-Jonathan-allowed plans. I couldn’t let him keep doing these spontaneous things to me. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Then again, I wasn’t even sure what “this” was. “Ten minutes.” Jonathan. I sighed. I didn’t want to know what he would do if I didn’t meet him outside. I rushed to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I slipped into a pair of loose fitting khakis and a slimming red shirt, pulling a thin gray sweater over it. I went down to the kitchen and left a note on the fridge for Ashley and Caroline: “I hope you both enjoy your off day today, but please make sure all the dishes are done by this evening. I left thirty dollars for lunch and dinner on my dresser. If your grandmother comes by for her mixer, it’s in my trunk. Love you! See you later, Mom.” I grabbed a box of breakfast cookies and made my way outside, rolling my eyes once I saw Jonathan step out of the town car. He held the backdoor open and smiled as I approached. “Good morning, Claire.” I didn’t respond. I slipped inside the car and slid over to the other side. “Are you ignoring me?” He cocked his head to the side.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the door. I was too tired to engage in a conversation with him. I couldn’t believe his nerve—to think he could demand to go out with me at any hour of the day, to show up where I was and simply assume that I was willing and ready to follow him wherever he wanted to go. “Mr. Statham?” His driver ’s voice came over the intercom. “Are we set to go sir?” “Yes, Greg. Thank you.” He slid close to me and whispered, “Talk to me. Are you upset?” “Yes...” “What’s wrong?” He slid his fingertips across my cheek. “You should’ve told me about this yesterday...You could’ve at least asked. What if I had important plans?” “You don’t.” “That’s not the point.” “Then what is?” “What the hell are we doing, Jonathan? What the fuck is this? I need to know right now. Where are you honestly expecting this to go?” He sighed and reached over the seats ahead of us, grabbing a pillow and a blanket. He placed the pillow in his lap and pulled me down onto it. He draped the blanket over my body and shook his head. I groaned. “Are you going to answer my questions?” “No.” He fluffed the pillow and planted a kiss on my forehead. “It’s going to take us a while to get there and you seem tired. Go to sleep.”

I looked out over the balcony and sighed as sheets of rain fell over the distant city. I was sailing on Jonathan’s newest yacht—an all-black luxury liner with six levels, and I’d spent most of the morning letting him give me a tour. “Why do you always cut your sentences off like that?” He handed me a cup of hot coffee. “Are you scared I’m going to use your stories against you or something?” “No, I’m sorry...What was I saying?” “You always thought you and your ex-husband would—” “Right...I always thought we would be together forever, you know?” I shook my head. “I gave him every part of me when we were married, and when it was over I didn’t have any pieces left for myself...And the one person who should’ve had her shoulder ready and waiting for my tears was lying in bed with him...” “Did she say anything to you after the grocery store incident?” “No.” My heart ached. “We never spoke again after that...And whenever my daughters come back from seeing their dad they know better than to give me a full recap.” “Hmmm. Do you still have feelings for your ex-husband?” “What do you mean?” “Do you still think about him or wish that you could’ve gotten back together if the circumstances were different?” “I think there’ll always be a part of me that’ll love the ‘old him’ and miss the magic I thought we had but....a part of him always belonged to Amanda so...I’m sorry for bringing this depressing stuff up I just—” “Don’t be.” He kissed my cheek. “I’m glad you did. Did you ever talk to anyone else about it?” “I went to therapy sessions at Sandra’s practice...I had to force myself to go for the first few months, but after a while I started seeing how beneficial it was...” He sighed. “If me and my mom could get through a complete hour of therapy without pissing each

other off maybe it would be beneficial for us too...” “Do you still talk to your foster parents?” “I haven’t said one word to them since I ran away.” What? “They never came looking for you?” “Of course they did...The state police showed up to my dorm once I started taking classes, but I was eighteen so they couldn’t force me to go back.” “They didn’t ask you for any money once you became a billionaire?” “They didn’t need to.” He paused. “I’d always dreamed of getting them back for treating me so terribly, but I realized it was easier to forgive them and forget they ever existed. I took care of all their debts and gave them enough money so they won’t have to work for the rest of their lives.” “That was very sweet of you. You didn’t have to do that...” “They tried getting in contact with me to say thank you, but I never called them back. Probably never will. I told Corey to tell them the message was received.” “Your foster parents are his real parents?” He nodded. “He’s still mad at them for how they treated me, but he can’t write them off like I can.” “And your foster sister? What happened to her?” “Jessica? She’s my executive assistant.” He smiled. “When Hayley finishes grad school, Jessica will become a trust advisor and Hayley will be my new EA.” “Must be nice...You plan on ever forgiving your own parents?” He took a deep breath and balled his fists. He looked off into the distance and then he looked over at me. “Not for a very long time...Would you if you were me?” “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I guess I can’t imagine Ashley and Caroline not wanting me to be a part of their lives when they got older.” “That’s because you always wanted to be a part of theirs...” He clenched his jaw and I knew that the conversation was over. He was clearly still hurting from his past with his parents and I wasn’t sure if he would ever get over it; just like I wasn’t sure if I would completely get over Ryan. We both sat underneath the ship’s awning and looked out into the rainy horizon, drifting into different memories, different places. “What was your first impression of me?” I asked, trying to break the silence. He turned to face me and smiled. “Jesus she’s sexy.” “You’re lying!” “It’s true. What was yours?” “He’s sexy, but he’s wearing a hoodie so he’s probably way too young for me.” I laughed and he rolled his eyes. “Glad we’ve cleared that up.” “Have we?” “If you think we haven’t, I can think of a few ways to make you say we have...” He pulled me close and kissed me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you this: Do you know how to dance?” “We danced together at my birthday party before so I guess—” “I don’t remember us really dancing at your birthday party...” I rolled my eyes. “No...I just know how to sway to the music. I never took the time to learn.” “Let’s work on that.” He reached for my hands and pulled me up. “You said you liked the dance floor on the top deck earlier, right? I think that’s the perfect place for a Sunday lesson.” “The dance floor is outside and it’s raining...” “How observant.” He laughed and walked me upstairs, into a room full of audio equipment. He flicked a few switches and the screens that were on the wall became blue.

“Good morning, Mr. Statham.” A gray haired man walked into the room and tipped his hat. “How are you today?” “I’m great, Sam. Have I introduced you to Claire before?” “No sir.” He placed his hand on the small of my back and pushed me forward. “Claire, this is my captain Sam. He directs all of my yachts. Sam, this is—” He paused. “This is my girlfriend, Claire.” Did he just say “girlfriend”? Is he out of his mind?! “Pleasure to meet you, Miss.” Sam reached out and shook my hand. “The co-captain is now at the wheel sir. I’ll be retiring to my cabin for the rest of the day.” “Thank you, Sam.” I waited for Sam to leave the room and narrowed my eyes at Jonathan. “We have titles now?” “Of course not,” he said. “I just thought girlfriend sounded better than ‘woman I like very much and love to fuck.’ But if you prefer that...” He hit another switch and the outdoor dance floor lit up. “I think we should start with the waltz. That should be easy enough.” He grabbed my hand and led me outside. The rain was still drizzling, and a light fog was creeping onto the deck. I heard the sound of strings and piano keys floating out of the speakers, felt Jonathan spinning me around to face him. “So,” he said as he looked into my eyes, “we should see if you have any rhythm first.” He pulled me into his arms and moved me to the beat, but I couldn’t keep up. For every step he took forward, I stepped back—for every movement to the right, I awkwardly moved to the left. “And you clearly don’t ...” He laughed. I let go of him and crossed my arms. I’d never been good at dancing; my mom had given up on me becoming her ballet protégé once I turned five. She even joked about how Ashley and Caroline must have gotten their dancing skills from Ryan. “It’s okay.” He pulled me back and held my hands out in front of me. “Just let me lead and we’ll take things slow. Everyone has to start somewhere...Step right...Then left...” He started adding more instructions—double-step, twist out, step back—and before I knew it we were waltzing across the wet floor. I tried not to look into his eyes, to act like I was too focused on following his commands, but he made it so easy that I couldn’t help but gaze at him. “At least you’re a fast learner.” He smiled. “Step to your right.” “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment... I assume you have a laundry room somewhere on the ship?” “Why would I need one of those?” “To dry my clothes after this?” I laughed as he spun me out and drew me back to his chest. “I haven’t completely furnished the ship yet, but I’ll keep that in mind for our future.” Our future? “So, you honestly think you and I—” “Are you analyzing us? What did I tell you about that?” I murmured “fine” and looked off to my side. The city was now a mere blip in the distance and we were sailing towards the open sea—towards heavier fog and harsher rain. As more fog crept aboard the ship, I noticed that the original song had ended and another song—a much slower one with harp strings, was beginning to play. I took one too many left steps and tripped over my own foot, nearly falling to the floor before Jonathan swooped down and caught me.

“I guess you don’t have a sense of direction either.” He smirked and pulled me up. “You’re off to a good start though.” He pushed me against the railing and lowered his head to mine, keeping my body trapped within his arms. I shut my eyes as he slid his tongue against my lips and softly forced them apart. I moaned and threaded my fingers through his wet hair, kissing him back like my life depended on it. He broke away and pulled my sweater over my head. Pressing his lips against mine, he whispered, “Have you ever had sex in the rain?” He started ripping the buttons off my soaked shirt. I shivered as the cold air hit my bare skin. “No...” “Are you sure?” I nodded. “Me either...Until today that is.” I gasped and untangled myself from his embrace, ignoring the heated glare he was now giving me. “Are you kidding me? Do you have any regard for privacy? At all?” I took several steps alongside the railing, making sure I was far out of his reach. “Get back over here. Now.” “What if another yacht rolls by and sees us? What if someone from your crew comes up here looking for you and sees us having sex?” “He’ll record it and put it on YouTube.” “I’m not joking! You don’t find that inappropriate?” “Can I buy you a thesaurus?” I rolled my eyes. “I know you’re used to pushing the envelope, but you have to admit that—” “My crew never bothers me, and do you see any other ships coming our way?” He stepped towards me before I could get away, pressing me against the railing again. “As a matter of fact, have you seen any ships sailing today?” “No...” “No?” He reached behind my back and popped my bra snaps. “Why do you think that is?” “It’s Sunday...People don’t sail until the late afternoon?” “Sunday is actually the best day for people to sail.” He flung my bra across the deck. “And they start sailing early. There were over three hundred yachts docked at the port we left and not a single one of them is setting sail today. Why is that the case?” I could see my breaths suspending in the air amidst the raindrops, could feel my nipples hardening in the cold. I covered my breasts with my hands and shrugged. “Too foggy?” He popped the button off my pants and yanked them down. He ripped my panties off with one hand and tossed them out into the sea. “Try again.” “Because...” I was withering under his ‘I’m too angry to play games with you’ stare. “Because...You paid all those people not to sail today?” “I did. Because the woman I’m dating insists on keeping our relationship a secret for some strange ass reason. I think she’s scared to admit that she really is ashamed of me.” I sighed. “For the umpteenth time, I’m not ashamed of you. I just don’t want other people—” He bit down on my lips. Hard. “If you’ve fulfilled your ‘I-must-be-difficult-with-Jonathan’ quota for the day, I would like to end this date properly—and by properly I mean fucking you against this railing until you can’t walk.” “I—” “Or talk...” I gasped. My knees had already gone weak from him saying those words. “I like you a lot, Claire. I really do.” He pulled a condom out of his pocket and let his pants fall to the deck. “Stop trying to fight it... It’s okay for you to like me back.”

“I never said that I didn’t like—” He crushed his lips onto mine and lifted me onto the small ledge that jutted out from the middle of the railing. He spread my legs apart and drove his dick inside of me with one thrust—filling me with every thick inch all at once. He grabbed onto the slippery railing above my head and moved in and out of me, keeping his lips attached to mine, preventing me from crying out in pleasure. The rain started to pick up speed, started to unleash heavier drops on us, but he didn’t seem to care. He kept punishing me with his slow thrusts, kissing me senseless, ignoring the hard scratches I was leaving against his back. I moaned against his mouth, begging him to stop kissing me so I could breathe, but he didn’t. He made love to my lips, exploring every inch of them with his tongue. I felt our hips jerking at the exact same time and felt a scream rising up my throat, but he muffled my mouth with another kiss that pushed me even further to the edge. I can’t breathe...I can’t breathe... He let my lips go for a split second, to say, “Let go” and my body convulsed and shook—every nerve ran wild and exploded. “Jonathan...” I caught one breath and fell into his arms. I felt him pushing me back against the railing, felt him pulling out of me. “I think I need to—” “Stop talking.” “But I—” “Do. Not. Say. Another. Word.” He narrowed his eyes at me. He reached down to the deck for his pants and pulled out another condom. “You don’t need to say anything for the rest of the day.”

Chapter 17 Jonathan A few weeks later... I watched Claire’s chest rise and fall as she lay on my couch. She’d fallen asleep minutes after we had sex against my office windows. I brought my hand to her face and pushed a few stray hairs off her forehead, smiling at how beautiful she was, how peaceful she looked. She wasn’t wearing any make-up today, and for the first time I realized that she had light freckles on each of her cheeks, that her long and full eye lashes naturally bowed upwards. And I’d kissed her lips thousands of times, but I’d never noticed the tiny tan mole above her top lip. Why didn’t I notice her before this year? We had to have crossed paths at least once... I wasn’t sure what was going on between us, but whatever it was I didn’t want it stop; it was like nothing I’d ever felt before. The women I’d been with in the past were mostly a means to pass the time, a way to fill my days with something steady until I was bored or driven away by their erratic behavior. But Claire never bored me, never annoyed me—even when she was frustrating the shit out of me. I trailed my fingertips against her mouth and her eyes fluttered open. “Hi.” “Hi...” She blinked and slowly sat up. “Do you get aroused by watching me sleep?” “No, but if you didn’t snore so much maybe I would.” She rolled her eyes and tapped her shoulder, her way of saying she was ready for me to put her clothes back on. I picked her bra up from the floor and clasped it around her back. I stared at it for a few seconds, looking at the black lace that covered the cups, at the red silk that lined the edges. I looked down and realized that her panties were an exact match. How cute... “Is this a new bra?” I slid the straps over her shoulder. “I’ve never seen you wear this one before.” “You think I bought brand new lingerie just for you?” “Did you?” “No.” She leaned over and reached for her shirt. “Sorry to break it to you, but you’re not that special...I found this in my closet yesterday while I was cleaning it out, and I—” I reached around her and gently ripped the small white tag that was hanging from the side. I held it in front of her and smiled. “Next time you happen to find something in your closet, make sure you cut the tag off first.” Her face turned bright red. “I love it.” I kissed her right strap and helped her into her shirt. “Would you like to go out to dinner tonight? Anywhere you want—and yes, we can arrange to sit in a private room.” She didn’t say anything. She just sat there blushing. “Claire?” “I can’t...I have to be home by eight tonight. I’m helping the girls make cupcakes for a bake sale.” “A bake sale? For what?”

“For the cheerleading squad.” She put on her pants. “All twenty of them are going to be there tonight and I need to make sure my house doesn’t burn down.” “Hmmm. Do your daughters know you’re dating me?” “Not yet...” Of course not... “Okay, since we can’t do dinner, let’s make use of what little time we have.” “How about watching a movie at your place? I think that would get me back in time.” “No. I have a much better idea.” I stood up and grabbed her blazer off the coat rack. “How do you feel about pizza?” “Pizza?” “Yes. It’s a popular dish made from dough, tomato sauce, and cheese. It’s baked in an oven and sold in boxes all over the world.” She smiled. “You don’t strike me as a take-out pizza type of guy.” “Who said anything about take-out?”

Claire tossed another ball of dough into the air and smashed it with her hands, making a gust of flour float across the air and fall onto my floor. Then she giggled like a child. I shook my head. “It doesn’t take much to entertain you does it?” “I’m not the one who suggested we make pizza from scratch...My mom used to do this with me and my—” She stopped. “She would get all the best stuff from the store and we’d waste a whole Saturday baking five or six huge pizzas.” “Sounds like fun.” “It was...” The oven’s timer went off and I slipped an oven mitt on my hand. I carefully pulled the pepperoni and spinach pizza off the rack and set it down on the island. I felt Claire moving behind me and turned around. “What are you doing?” “I was going to pour us both a glass of wine.” She held up the glasses and her eyes met mine. “You don’t want one?” “Yes...” My heartbeat started to speed up. “Is red okay with you?” “It’s perfect...” We both stood still and stared at each other, not moving, not saying anything. The second alarm for the breadsticks was blaring, but neither of us made an attempt to shut it off. I closed the gap between us and wrapped an arm around her hips, looking down into her gorgeous green eyes, pretending not to notice how loudly her heart was thumping against her chest. She reached up and placed her arms around my neck, pressing her body tightly against mine, standing on her toes to reach my lips. I bent down to kiss her—watching her close her eyes, watching her take a short breath in anticipation, but then I stopped. Fuck... I cleared my throat. “We should eat.” She opened her eyes and stepped back. “Yeah, you’re right...” She walked around me and grabbed a bottle of wine. I waited until she sat down and we ate our food in our own special silence—though at this point, I wasn’t even sure if it could really be called “silence.” All we had to do was look at each other to have a conversation, words weren’t really necessary. I could tell when she was thinking about work, when she was thinking about us, or when she was

putting on her best poker face to pretend like she wasn’t thinking about me. She put down her pizza crust and sighed. “Where do you buy your wine?” “What do you mean?” “You have a wine room in every place you’ve showed me, even on your yachts. But none of the brands are domestic and I know my wine. You can’t buy most of your collection in America.” I smiled. “Very astute. I stock up on most of it twice a year. I go to a collector ’s vineyard in France. I’ll take you there on my jet this summer.” “Okay...” She looked off to the side, like she always did when she doubted something, when she was analyzing us. “What is it now, Claire? What’s wrong?” “Nothing...” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” I set my plate down and walked over. “I need to ask you another personal question, a very personal question.” “Okay...” She sipped her wine. “Go ahead.” “We’ve been having sex since what? Late January? It’s about to be May...” “That’s not a question.” “I can’t think of one week when we didn’t have sex at least once.” “Also not a question.” “Why haven’t you gotten your period?” She spluttered her wine into the air. “What?” “You heard me.” I wrapped my arms around her waist. “I’m not complaining. I just want to know why you’ve never mentioned anything about your time of the month.” “Oh my god! You ask the worst personal—” “And you always try to change the subject. I’m waiting...” “I can’t believe you’re asking me about menstruation! Do you have any sense of shame or—” “Claire...” “Ugh...” She shook her head. “I was really depressed after my divorce. I can’t put how depressed into words, but... I couldn’t get out of bed, I had to force myself to eat, and I... I just couldn’t function...So um, after I’d lost about ten pounds from wasting away, I made myself go to the doctor and he prescribed some antidepressants. One of the side effects was irregular periods and—Do I really need to go into this?” “You do. I need to know.” She sighed. “I got my period every day for the first two months and they swore that was typical for first time dosage. Then I got it for six more months, and then it just stopped. I kept taking the medicine for a year after that, but when I decided to stop, it never came back...They ran test after test and said that everything was normal, that I was perfectly fine. They said that I may experience spotting from time to time, but I’ll probably never get a full period again. Happy?” “Ecstatic.” She rolled her eyes and stepped out of my embrace. “Which picture is of your sister Hayley?” She walked towards the fireplace. “The one on the left.” “She looks just like you...” She took the picture off the mantle and looked at it. She didn’t say anything, but I knew why she was scrutinizing it. At first glance, Hayley was just a beautiful blue eyed girl in a yellow sundress. But upon further notice, you could see the hundreds of red lined scars and cuts that sat on her wrists; they completely

covered her arms. “That’s the main reason why I can’t forgive my parents so easily...” I cleared my throat. “Hayley started cutting herself once we were put in separate foster homes. That’s how she dealt with not having any family around...I’ve paid to have the majority of the marks removed, but she insists on keeping the ones on her arms.” “I’m so sorry...Is that a Scrabble necklace she’s wearing?” I smiled. “It is. She’s the captain of her school’s Scrabble team. Fifty thousand dollars in tuition every year, and she wants to play Scrabble. Isn’t that ridiculous?” She laughed. “Do you two play when she visits you?” “There wouldn’t be a point. She’d beat me in seconds. The only game I can beat her in is Monopoly, but only because that’s my favorite game.” “Ashley and Caroline beat me at that all the time. Even when I cheat.” “On family game night?” “Yeah...” She put the picture back on the shelf and slowly walked over to me, giving me a look that would make me do anything for her. Then she leaned in for a kiss. I wanted to kiss her back, needed to kiss her back, but I didn’t. I turned away and sighed. “It’s seven thirty. I should take you home now.”

I pulled my Murcielago outside of her house and turned off the engine. “Greg parked your car three houses down. Is that alright?” “Yes...” “Okay. Well, I’ll see you after work tomorrow.” “No, you won’t,” she said. “I’ll be busy all week.” “You know that already?” “I do...” She looked up at me, giving me that sultry look again. God, she needs to go...Now... “Well, I’ll see you when you’re not busy.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened my door, but she grabbed my shoulder. “Wait...Can I ask you something?” “Anything.” “You haven’t kissed me all day...Are you going to kiss me goodnight?” “No.” “What?” She looked stunned. “Why not?” “Because I don’t want to.” “Is this because I haven’t told my daughters about us?” I laughed. “No, even though I’m pretty sure they know you’ve been dating someone. You could at least admit it. They’re sixteen, not six.” “Is it because I was quiet at dinner?” “I enjoy our silent dinners.” I reached over and caressed her face. “You know that.” “Well, you’re going to be the only one that regrets this lack of goodnight kiss, Jonathan. While you’re lying in bed thinking about how you should’ve kissed me, I’ll be too busy to think about you.” “Oh really?” “Yes. My team is staying late all week, so I won’t be able to slip away into your secret rooms. I probably won’t see you until next weekend—maybe even the week after that. I need to catch up with my other friends now that I think about it.” “Do you see me crying?”

“You are mad at me about something! What is it?” “I’m not mad at you.” I’m mad that I’m falling for you... “Well...” She unbuckled her seatbelt and looked around. She leaned forward to kiss me, but I held her still and whispered against her lips. “I didn’t kiss you today because I made a promise to myself yesterday.” “What promise?” “You don’t need to know.” “Tell me...” I didn’t say anything. I just watched as she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Jonathan, you’re being childish again. If there’s nothing wrong, and if—” I pressed my finger against her mouth. “I promised that the next time I kissed you, I’d be kissing both sets of your lips.” She gasped and blushed bright red. “Goodnight, Claire. I’ll see you next weekend.”

Chapter 18 Claire “You looked sexy at this morning’s meeting. I love when you wear black.” Jonathan texted me. “Thank you :-).” “Can I see you tonight?” I hesitated to respond. “Depends on if I finish all my reading or not.” “Bring it with you. I have work to do as well.” “You seducing me isn’t real work.” His text came back within seconds: “You’re right. That doesn’t take much effort at all. It’ll be strictly professional tonight. I was serious about that promise.” “I don’t believe you...” “You should. Greg will pick you up at eight.” I set my phone down and smiled. I was getting ready to finally mention Jonathan to Ashley and Caroline. I’d been holding it off for long enough, and since our “exclusive dating” arrangement was starting to resemble some sort of relationship, I wanted them to be okay with it. I set snacks and drinks on the dining room table like I always did on family meeting nights, and waited for them to get home from cheerleading practice. “Mom! Mom!” They both came running into the kitchen, talking at once. “Did I tell you about this?” “Did you know the training was this Saturday?” “Can I borrow twenty dollars?” “Can I have twenty dollars?” “If you give her twenty can I have forty?” “What about—” I usually waited until they realized that I couldn’t understand them when they did this, but my blank stare didn’t seem to be working today. They were blabbering at full speed, flipping their silky red hair over their shoulders at the exact same moments—never stopping to catch a breath. “Okay, okay! One at a time, please. Who was talking first?” “Me!” Ashley clapped. “I think the first order of business tonight needs to be discussing me and Caroline getting separate cars.” “Okay.” I sat down. I have to hear this... Caroline shrugged and sat down across from me. “So...” Ashley said, smiling. “As you know, we’re sixteen years old and we’re both straight A students. We hardly get in trouble unlike most kids our age and we’re both members of the Junior Aviation Scholars Program—which is only open to ten kids per year for the entire country! And we both have spots!” “Go on...” “So, we need separate cars.” “What? That’s it? That’s your entire argument, Ashley?” “Um, yeah. That sums it up pretty well I think. What do you think, Caroline?” Her co-conspirator nodded. “Okay well, I’m aware that you’re both sixteen and that you’re great students. It’s your job to be. I’m also well aware that you don’t get into much trouble, but it’s because I don’t tolerate any. And I’m very glad that you’re part of the—” I took a deep breath and paused. “Junior Aviation Scholars

Program and I recall buying you both new pilot outfits once you received those spots. However, seeing as though you don’t pay your own insurance for the car you drive now, are involved in the same exact activities, and aren’t trying to buy your own car with your own money, you can either enjoy the shared car or give it back to me. Your choice.” Ashley rolled her eyes and sat down. “What about letting one of us borrow your car on the weekends then?” Caroline scrolled through her phone. “Would that work? What if we came up with a car sharing schedule or something? I think there’s an app for—” “No. Car conversation is over... Now, I need to speak with you both about something very important. I want you to know that I’m currently seeing someone—someone I think I really like. I’m not sure if I’ll ever let him meet you or not, but—” “Is he hot?” “Where’d you meet him?” “Is that why you’ve been smiling so much lately?” “And going out so much?” “You don’t want him to meet us?” “Is it because he’s not hot?” “You’re dating someone ugly?” “Why would you do that?” “You’re so pretty!” I sighed. “Please let me finish...I met him at work, and just so you’re aware, he’s a bit younger than me...” They stopped stuffing their mouths with junk and exchanged puzzled looks. Then they both stared at me—like I was some type of art exhibit. They did this routine quite often—so often that I didn’t think they realized how intense their joint stare-fest looked. Most of the time it meant that they were thinking about something, and since I was convinced that they shared a brain, it usually took them a while to formulate a verbal thought. Caroline tilted her head to the side. “When you say younger, do you mean younger like, regular younger?” “Or do you mean you could go to prison if we called the cops on you younger? “ Ashley raised her eyebrow. “Because if you want us to keep quiet we will, but you’re definitely going to have to reconsider getting us—” “What! Why would you even—” I stopped. I didn’t need to stress myself out over their warped line of thinking. “He’s eleven years younger than me...” They looked at each other and laughed hysterically. Then they started talking to one other as if I wasn’t sitting in the room: “So... He’s basically thirty!” “What’s so wrong with that?” “I don’t know...Isn’t thirty like middle aged? Or is that fifty?” “I think people should stop counting their birthdays after they turn twenty five. After that you’re pretty irrelevant and you just start looking bad and letting yourself go...” “Do you think the guy she’s dating is hot?” “Probably not. She didn’t say he was hot. If he was hot she would’ve said that first...” “Did she tell us his name?” “It’s probably Taylor. That’s a nice thirty year old name.” “Taylor? I like it. I wonder if—” “Thank you both for listening...” I cut off their ridiculous conversation. “You two are okay with me dating someone?” “Um yeah! It’s about time! You deserve someone amazing.” Ashley stood up and hugged me. “Whoever he is, I hope he can talk you into buying us separate cars for our senior year!” Caroline walked over and hugged me too. “I agree. It’s good seeing you smile again—even if the guy isn’t hot...”

“So, the top four ideas for the sTablet slogan are—you know what? These are all terrible, aren’t they?” Mr. Barnes laughed. “Yes. They really are.” I couldn’t help but laugh too. “Let’s just call it a night.” “At nine o’ clock? Sure you don’t want to stay until midnight like yesterday? I’m starting to feel

like corporate is my second home.” “Positive.” I closed my folder and stood up. “I actually have plans for a change. I’ll see you on Monday.” I walked out of his office and headed into mine, moving Jonathan’s latest flower arrangements to one side of the room. I’d given up on asking him to stop sending them. He sent at least two hundred blooms a day. He’d even hired a horticulture expert; she came in every day at noon to prune the old ones and water the new ones. I took off my heels and changed into a pair of slippers, wishing that I could somehow fast forward to the end of the sTablet campaign. I was working double the hours, and while the new “necessary overtime for managers” policy had been quite beneficial for my savings account, it drained most of my body’s energy. I put my head down on the desk and my phone rang. Ashley. “Yes, Ashley?” I answered. “Is it okay if me and Caroline spend the night at Jasmine’s house tonight? I know you wanted to watch a movie with us later, but it is a Friday. And I know you’re already going to say something about us driving late, so Jasmine’s mom said she could pick us up and drop us off tomorrow.” “I thought you two had a junior pilot seminar tomorrow. Didn’t you beg me to pay the two hundred dollar registration fee?” “It was pushed back because a few people failed the simulation test.” I sighed. “Is this sleepover coed?” “I didn’t say it was a sleepover, mom. It’s—” “Ashley...” “There might be a few guys there...” Of course. “Have Jasmine’s mother call me. Then I’ll—” “Hold on! She’s right here!” I rolled my eyes and introduced myself to a soft-spoken Mrs. Hines. She was a few years younger than me, but from what I remembered about her at the mother-daughter cheerleading retreats, she seemed to have a good set of morals. I made sure that no boys would be sleeping in the same room with the girls, and after she assured me that she and her husband would be taking turns to check on the party, I gave in and agreed to let them go. “Hello, beautiful. What are you doing?” Jonathan texted me as soon as I hung up. “About to head home and take a long shower...” “You’re still at corporate?” “Unfortunately. What are you doing?” “Coming downstairs to see you.” I shut down my computer and stood up. I stacked all the sTablet notes into a pile and crossed another date off my calendar. My eyes veered towards the box that held the last Friday of the month, where the words “Jonathan’s birthday” were written in small print. I had no idea what to get for him; he seemed to have everything already. As a matter of fact, anytime I asked him what he wanted for his birthday, he would simply change the subject. “Hey.” He walked into my office. “Are you still too busy for me?” “Actually, I was supposed to be watching a movie with my girls later, but they just ditched me for a coed sleepover. Can you believe that?” “I can’t believe you’re surprised.” He laughed. “What movie were you going to watch?”

“Some teen movie about vampires, evil curses, and—I don’t know. They picked it out.” “Hmmm. You should spend the night with me then. You haven’t seen my house yet.” How many houses does he have? “No thanks.” I shook my head. “No thanks? Why?” “Because I don’t feel like having sex with you.” He rolled his eyes. “Even if that was true, we don’t always have to have sex, Claire. You know that.” I did know that. And I was scared of that. The days when we didn’t have sex were more intimate than the days when we did. Jonathan had the most thoughtful ways of showing his affection, and no matter what I did to try and resist, I only ended up giving in and falling further into him. Like this past Monday, when I told him I skipped breakfast because I was running late and he had the chef team of True Blue Café deliver me a plate of gourmet crepes and fruit. Or Wednesday, when I wasted coffee on my favorite suit and he sent Greg out to buy me two new ones. Or maybe it was yesterday, when he noticed I’d been standing in heels all day and massaged my feet until I fell asleep. “So, is that a yes to coming home with me?” He smiled. “No, it’s still a no...I’m exhausted and I need to shower and—” “Hush.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and walked me out of the room. We took the elevator to the garage and he led me over to his newest car—a black Aston Martin. He opened the passenger door and I hesitated. I’d spent the night with him before, but that was in his corporate bedroom—on his sofa sleeper, not at his house where he would undoubtedly and successfully seduce me. That was before we officially began dating, before our unexplainable connection to each other was deepened with his thoughtfulness and late night phone conversations—before I had to admit to myself that my feelings for him were growing deeper and deeper every day. “Is there a reason you’re not getting into the car? Is something wrong?” He raised his eyebrow. “No...I was just thinking...” “About?” “About how... I need to catch up on some reading tonight.” I needed to figure out a way to get out of this. He was getting too close—way too close, and we still hadn’t discussed our thoughts on whatever this relationship was. “Maybe you and I can meet up for breakfast tomorrow and—” He scooped me into his arms and placed me into the car, buckling my seatbelt like I was a toddler. He flicked the child safety lock on the door before shutting it, and walked over to his side. “You are unbelievable. Do you know that?” He revved up the car and sped away. “Do you get a cheap thrill out of testing my nerves?” “It’s more of an adrenaline rush. I wasn’t joking about the reading...I actually am a full day behind.” “Would you like me to make Monday a company-wide off day so you can catch up?” “What?” “I didn’t stutter. If you need me to do that I will, because I can guarantee you won’t be getting any reading done tonight.” My cheeks turned bright red. “Did you not hear me say that I don’t feel like having sex with you tonight? Did you catch that sentence at all?” “I’m allergic to your lies, Claire.” He looked over at me and smiled. “Your poker face doesn’t work on me anymore.” I sat back in the seat and looked out the window, laughing on the inside.

I watched as the bright skyline of downtown disappeared in my side mirror, as the street lights that hovered over the lanes became less frequent. I could see that we were driving past property estates—mansion like houses with sprawling lawns and mile long gates, houses that were standing further and further apart. Jonathan began to slow his car down, pulling up to a colossal black gate. He rolled his window down and punched in a code, causing the gate to slowly slide open. He drove down a long gravel road that was lined with bright yellow gingko trees. There was a small courtyard in the distance and a gray stoned fountain stood stoic amidst a large bed of welltrimmed grass. I kept my eyes forward, thinking that whatever his house looked like, it couldn’t be grander than any of the yachts he’d shown me. But once the house came into view, I had to hold back a gasp. It was unbelievably beautiful. Stunning. An architect’s dream. It was a colonial style mansion with white stones that gleamed against the sunset. It had to have been built in the 1930s—the marbled pillars that led into the entrance were reminiscent of the ones I’d seen in my history design books. The arched windows—there were far too many to count, were at least eight feet tall and the glass within them was tinted black. “Claire?” Jonathan was standing at my door with his arm outstretched. “Would you like to come inside?” I stepped out of the car and followed him up the smooth slate steps and past the vintage front door. The inside of the house was a stark contrast to the outside. While a few remnants of the colonial style had been saved, most of the house had been completely modernized: There were walls constructed completely from glass and free-standing spiral staircases. There were also high vaulted ceilings and recessed lighting. Why does he need all this space? He stopped walking once we arrived in what appeared to be an old parlor room. He pulled out a chair for me and walked behind the enormous bar. I looked all around me, admiring the original artwork that hung in sparkling silver frames. “Will you give me a tour of everything before we leave?” “Of course.” He opened a cabinet. “I can show you around the whole place tomorrow.” “Do you really need more than one house in the same city? Why can’t you just stay in this one? It’s more than big enough...” “I see my properties as investments.” He uncorked a bottle of wine. “This house isn’t really a home right now. It’s considered to be a landmark.” “Why?” “It once belonged to Charles Ellis, the other designer of the Golden Gate Bridge. He built this house to show off how innovative he could be, how far he could push structural design in the 1930s. Apparently he was spending too much time on it, so they put him off the bridge project before it was completed.” “He never got credit for helping?” “Not until 2007,” he said as he handed me a glass. “He’d been dead for decades by then though.” “How sad...What made you buy it?” “I was looking for an estate to invest in years ago, and it caught my attention as soon as I drove by. It reminded of a house in a book I read once. It’s a classic, but I can’t remember the name of it for the life of me right now...” “What’s the book about?” “Are you going to try and guess the title?” He smiled. “Are you that good with books?”

“Maybe...” “1920s. Jazz Age. Wealthy guy who loves to throw lavish parties. Townspeople have no idea how he acquired his wealth and he’s in love with—” “The Great Gatsby?” He nodded and took a sip of his wine. “I’m impressed.” “This house doesn’t really feel like single person space. It seems like it’d be more fitting for a family.” “I can see that. Maybe someday I’ll have one here...” I stilled. It was moments like this that the insecurities I’d managed to bury crawled out of the ground and laughed in my face. I knew damn well that this fling wouldn’t last forever, that we weren’t meant to be together, but there were small instances that made those facts more apparent, more glaring. And anytime those instances came up, the confidence I’d built up quickly crumbled into a million little pieces. “Can I be frank with you for a few seconds, Jonathan?” “You’re asking for permission to speak?” I sighed. “You just reminded me of a reason why I shouldn’t be with you.” “Come again?” “You and I should end this before it gets—” “Before it gets what?” He set his glass down and narrowed his eyes at me. “You just said you wanted to have a family of your own here one day and I can’t give you that... Ever. My tubes are tied and even if I were to get that reversed, it’s pretty risky for someone at my age to...Anyway, we’re not that serious about each other so I don’t know why I even—” I sighed. “I think we should go back to the strictly sex thing that we had before. I don’t want to hold you back from enjoying your twenties. I definitely enjoyed mine and I want you to do the same. After we get done having sex tonight, take me home and we can try to put whatever this is back to where it once was...” He stared at me, blinking slowly as if he was trying to process everything I’d said. I braced myself for his rebuttal, but he simply rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his wine. He strolled over to me and pulled me out of my chair. He placed his arms around my waist and pressed his forehead against mine. “One, I’ve never had any desire to have kids of my own. Never. Two, when I said I wanted a family here, I was referring to one that would rent out this house because I’m putting it on the leasing market at the end of the year. Three, you should’ve told me that your tubes were tied a long time ago. I would’ve stopped buying so many fucking condoms. And four, you’ve never struck me as the insecure type so I’m not sure why you’ve been backpedaling so much lately, but let me make this clear: I am serious about you. I am enjoying my twenties. We’re not going back to a strictly physical relationship, and I’m not taking you home until tomorrow. Are we clear?” “Yes...” I whispered and felt my heart skip a beat. “Good. Let’s take a shower.” “Together?” “Of course not.” He released me from his arms. “I’ll take mine upstairs and you’ll take yours downstairs. As soon as we’re done, I’ll tuck you into bed and kiss you goodnight.” Before I could fire back, he clasped my hand and led me out of the parlor and up the grand staircase. He twisted the doorknob to a black door and pulled me inside a massive bathroom. Wow... It was the size of my living room five times over; the crystallized glass shower alone was the size of my office. From its windows, I could see that there was a wet bench that wrapped around its

insides, a sleek entertainment system that was embedded into the wall, and rotating panels with water jets that hung from the ceiling. Across the room, was a marble spa tub that looked like it was meant to be a wave pool. And on the back wall, an open sauna puffed steam across the room’s sparkling white floors. I stepped forward and ran my fingers against the marble countertop. Curious, I reached out to touch the quartz-like material that surrounded the wall length mirror, but I felt Jonathan wrapping his arms around me from behind. “You frustrate the shit out of me, Claire.” He looked at me in the mirror, sighing. “That said, I can’t get enough of you for some reason...Every time I think that you’ve almost accepted us, you come up with some new ridiculous reason to pull away...” “Well, you’re not exactly the—” “Shhh...” He spun me around and kissed my lips. “You’re not allowed to talk tonight.” He slowly lifted my shirt over my head. “But you can scream as loud as you want to.” He kissed me again and my heart started beating faster. Looking into my eyes, he slowly pulled the silver clip I was wearing out of my hair. He tossed it onto the floor with my shirt and began unsnapping my bra. He unclasped my pants and let them fall into a pool on the floor. Then he stepped back and looked at me, really looked at me, as if he were regarding something valuable, something he genuinely cared about. He bent down and lifted my feet up one at a time, carefully slipping my heels off. He moved the shoes to the side and delicately kissed his way up my legs, stopping once he reached my waist. He held me steady as he ran his tongue above the outline of my lace panties, pressing soft, warm kisses against my skin. As he slid my panties down to the floor, my body became a quivering mess. He hadn’t touched or kissed me since that day he told me about the “promise” and I was suddenly feeling nervous. “Why are you shaking?” He stood up and brushed his fingers against my lips. “I’m going to make it perfect for you.” “Make what perfect?” I barely managed. “You’re not supposed to talk, Claire.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “If you say anything else, I’ll have to punish you. Are we clear?” I nodded. “Good.” He caressed my breasts and stepped back, gesturing at his clothes. “Your turn.” I stood still for several seconds, not sure where to start—what to do. He and I had had sex hundreds of times, and we’d definitely become comfortable with each other ’s bodies, but this felt more sensual—more intimate. “Claire?” He grabbed my hand and placed it on his chest. “Start with my tie.” I rose up on my tiptoes and looped my fingers through the knot, trying my best to avoid his heated gaze. As the tie fell to the floor, I began unfastening his shirt’s buttons—smiling as I felt his skin warm up, as I felt his reaction to me. I reached up and slid the shirt off his shoulders, taking my time with his sleeves. I stared at the perfectly chiseled chest that stood in front of me, running my hands across it and biting my lip. “Finish.” He caught my wrist and darted his eyes from mine to his pants. I unbuckled his belt, sliding it free from the pant loops. I undid the button on his slacks, and they fell down to the floor without any help. Since he’d already slid out of his shoes, he smirked and playfully tugged at his dark blue briefs, where his huge erection was straining against the fabric.

I bent down to pull them off, but instead of using my hands, I used my teeth. I sat up on my knees and rubbed my hands up and down his length—making him gasp, and then I took all of him into my mouth. I eased him in and out, slowly flicking my tongue against his shaft. I cupped his balls in my hands, softy massaging them as I sucked on him faster and faster. “Claire...” He groaned. “Claire, stop.” I slowly pulled back like I was going to consider his pleas, but then I twirled my tongue around his thick tip, watching him shut his eyes in tortured pleasure. His guttural response to me was driving me insane; I felt so in control. I forced all of him into my mouth again, feeling his muscles twitch and spasm with the hard pressure of my tongue. I started massaging him with my hands again, sucking on him even harder, but he yanked me up by my shoulders and spun me around. He bent me over the marble counter and slid a finger inside of me, forcing wetness to slip down my thighs. I waited to feel exactly what I wanted—what I needed. I waited for him to impale me and make me scream, but nothing came. Before I could turn around and ask what was wrong, I felt him lifting me into his arms and carrying me across the room—towards the shower. The glass doors slid open as we approached, and as soon as he set me down on the floor, the lights that hung above started to glow in a soft yellow. The water jets that protruded from the walls and the ceiling began to spray warm water over us. He walked over to a hanging shelf and picked up a couple of pink bottles. “Tonight isn’t about me, Claire. It’s about you.” He spun me around so my back was against his torso. Then he began palming my breasts with one hand. “You are very tempting though...” He pressed his erection against my ass— frustrating me, making me want to turn around and— “Are you about to say something, Claire?” The way he said my name made me yearn for him even more. “Are you frustrated?” he whispered in my ear. “Tempted to try me because you don’t believe what I said about not talking?” I sucked in a breath and shook my head. “I hope not.” The next thing I felt were cool droplets being squeezed onto my head. Then I felt his hands gently spreading the cream all over my hair. I shut my eyes and leaned against him as he lathered my hair, as he moved his fingers around my scalp in a circular motion, leaving no part untouched. Please don’t stop... He poured more droplets into my hair and massaged me again and again, making me weaker with each rotation of his fingertips. “Does it feel good?” he whispered, pulling all of my hair to the top of my head. I murmured, “Yes...” and I could sense him smiling behind me. He pushed my head forward so that it was directly underneath one of the water jets, and he took his time rinsing my hair clean. When there were no more suds sliding towards the drain, I tried to lean against him again. “Stand still.” He held my shoulders, preventing me from doing that. “I’m not done.” I sighed. Then I felt him caressing my back with a soft loofah, brushing it around in soft circles, leaving a sweet vanilla scent on my skin. After he thoroughly scrubbed my legs, he kissed my right shoulder, trailing kisses across my back until he reached my left one. He slid the loofah underneath my arms and rubbed it against my stomach, moving it up and around my breasts. He used his other hand to touch between my legs, to reposition a water jet so it

was streaming up against my most sensitive part. “I’m going to fuck you with my mouth tonight,” he whispered. I gasped. “What?” And then I shook my head because I didn’t want him to think I was trying to be punished. “You heard me.” He walked around so that we were facing each other, locking his eyes on mine. “I’m going to be your first, and I’m going to make you cum over and over and over again.” He lowered his head and kissed my lips. “It’s going to be so fucking good that you’re going to want me to be your last.” My heart stopped—literally stopped, because my knees went weak and I leaned against the wall, sliding down onto the shower bench. Letting out a low laugh, he leaned down and kissed me one more time. He walked over to the hanging shelf and grabbed a blue loofah, using it to spread a clear gel over his skin. He turned around and looked into my eyes, running the soapy loofah across his perfectly carved chest, across his muscled abs. He let the suds sit on his body for a few seconds, and then he let the water trickle down his body and clear them away. “Can’t stand up?” He raised his eyebrow and I bit my lip as he ran the loofah against his rock hard dick, as he used his hands to teasingly rub it up and down. I tried to get up, but my legs were still numb. The strong pressure of the water jets against my body weren’t much help either. All I could do was sit and watch as Jonathan teased me with that damn loofah, letting it caress all the places I wanted to touch. After many more minutes of playful torture, he tossed it onto the floor and winked. “Still can’t stand up?” I blushed and he walked over to me, pulling me up by my hands. As soon as we stepped out of the shower, the water jets stopped and the lights turned white again. He pulled me over to a bench that sat in front of the sauna and smiled. He slipped into a black robe and grabbed a small towel from a drawer, wrapping it around my hair. He took another towel—a larger one, and began pressing it against my skin, slowly rubbing it all over my body. “You are so beautiful, Claire...” He brushed the towel between my thighs, making my body tense. “Especially when you look at me like that...” He placed a kiss against my thigh. It took him a while to dry me, and I thought he would ask me to return the favor, but he didn’t. Instead, he unwrapped a brand new blow dryer and took his time drying every strand of my hair, massaging my scalp as tenderly as he’d done in the shower. When he was finished, he stared at my naked body for several minutes, smiling as his eyes wandered up and down. “Hold your arms up.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a black slip. As I held my arms high, he slid the soft fabric over my head and tugged it down, smoothing it out in certain places. I started to wonder if he bought the same standard slip for all of the other “serious” women he’d been with. But, as I looked at my reflection, I noticed that there was white cursive threading sewn onto the lace that covered my left breast. It read, “For Claire.” “I’ve never bought lingerie for anyone else,” he whispered. “Only you.” He clasped my hand and led me out of the bathroom and down the hall. We walked past four doors and a small staircase before stopping in front of a set of white French doors. He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked one of the doors, pushing me inside. My eyes widened as I took in the room: The silky taupe drapes that fell down to floor, the perfectly polished wood floors, the large mahogany poster bed that stood on the far side of the room,

and the large scale paintings that featured the greatest American authors. I walked over the bookshelf that covered the entire back wall, pulling out the only book that wasn’t perfectly aligned with the others. “I’m only thirty pages in.” Jonathan stepped in front of me. “It’s actually not that bad. Don’t follow her lead and get any ideas about leaving me though.” He smiled as he took Eat, Pray, Love from my hands, placing it back on the shelf. “Come here.” He took my hand in his and led me over to the bed. “Wine?” I nodded and he laughed. “You can answer questions, Claire.” He uncorked a bottle and poured two glasses. “You just can’t initiate anything.” He handed me my drink. I took several slow sips and smiled. It was the same wine I’d ordered on our first date—my favorite wine; he’d remembered. Why is he so perfect? “Did you have a good day at work today?” He eyed me as he set his glass down. “Yes...” “Anything interesting happen?” My body was trembling uncontrollably again. No matter how hard I tried to control it, it wouldn’t stop. “Claire?” He took my glass away and cupped my face in his hands. “Are you there?” “It was okay...” I wished he would stop looking at me like that, like he wanted to devour me on the spot. “We let the associates go home early since their work has improved over the past few weeks. We’re still trying to figure out what approach we’re going to—” “I honestly don’t give two fucks about my company right now.” He crushed his lips onto mine and pushed me back onto the bed. I shut my eyes as he caressed me, as he placed small kisses up and down my neck. As he pulled my slip over my head, he whispered, “Open your eyes.” I hesitated a second before blinking them open, and when I did I was staring directly into his beautiful eyes. He tossed the slip onto the floor and arched his brow. “You’re very tense today...” He shifted his body so he was lying next to me. “And you haven’t stopped shaking since we took a shower together.” He held one of my quaking palms up to make a point. “Are you that nervous?” I didn’t want to admit it, but I was. “Hmmm.” He kissed my hand and stood up. I watched him walk over to the closet and take out a small brown bottle. “Lay on your stomach,” he said as he walked back over to me. I rolled over, still trembling, and felt warm oil being poured onto my back. I exhaled as his palms spread it up and down my spine, as he spread it all over me. Pressing his fingertips into my sides, he caressed me with a “back and forth” motion—over and over. Every now and then, he would leave a wet kiss against my skin, and he would follow up with another deep press of his hands. “Does this relax you?” He kneaded the back of my thighs. “Umm hmmm....” “Are you still nervous?” He moved down to my calves, then to my ankles. I didn’t answer the question. I was getting lost in the incredible sensations he was giving me. He flipped me over and began applying pressure to my feet—using his thumbs to rub my heels. “What does this cursive July 16th stand for?” he asked. “The date of—” I gasped as he kissed my instep. “The date of my divorce.”

He laughed. “And the white and red flags tattooed on your ankle? Just your fascination with flags?” “Yes...” “Okay.” He let go of my foot and began massaging his way back up my body—using the same sensual motions against the front of my thighs and my stomach, spending extra time to caress my breasts. He smiled at me and left the bed again, putting the bottle away in the closet. Then he disappeared. Minutes later, he came back into the room with a glass of ice and set it on the night stand. I was tempted to ask what the ice was for, but he gave me a look that said, “I dare you.” I bit down on my bottom lip and watched as he grabbed a pillow from the other side of the bed, as he propped it underneath me. Straddling me, he reached over and plucked an ice cube from the glass. “Let’s make sure you’re as relaxed as possible.” He rolled it between his fingertips, letting the cold droplets drip onto my chest. Then he placed the cube onto my neck, slowly trailing it between my breasts—circling it around both of my hardening nipples. “Ahhh...” I groaned as he took one of them into his mouth, sucking on it as he continued to tease the other one with ice. “Jonathan...” “Shhh.” He switched positions and I shut my eyes, trying to stay as still as possible. The next thing I felt was another ice cube, a larger one, drifting down past my breasts, and into my navel. My stomach started to quiver again—not as intensely as it was before, but noticeable enough for Jonathan to hold me still and laugh. “Relax, Claire.” He leaned over me and grabbed another cube. “I’m going to make you feel really good...” He placed the cube into his mouth and kissed the inside of my thighs, alternating between using his warm tongue and the cold ice. The kisses started moving closer and closer, and then he slipped a finger inside of me, groaning at how wet I was. He looked up at me one more time, and then he put his head down, gently brushing his tongue against my clit. I gasped and sat up, bringing my knees up to my chest. “Wait.” “For?” “I can’t...I’m not...Can we just have traditional sex?” “No.” He rose up and glared at me, but I could tell he was slightly amused. “I know this seems crazy because I’m not a virgin but...I told you this has never been done to me before...I didn’t honestly expect you to—” “Claire...” “I’m sure you would make it amazing. Actually, I know that you would, but—” “Claire...” “Yes?” “Lay back down...” I blinked. I couldn’t move. “You’re going to make me ask you again?” He raised his eyebrow. I blinked twice. He shook his head and smiled. “Okay, Claire.” He walked over to where I was curled up on the bed and picked me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

He grabbed that cup of ice, and then he placed me at the edge of the bed. He lay me down against the mattress and untied the sash from his robe. Before I could figure out what he was doing, he spread my legs and tied my right one to the bed’s post. Then he reached inside his robe’s pocket and pulled out his tie, using it to hold down my left one. I tugged at my legs, seeing if my movement would topple the posts, but it didn’t; they didn’t even rock. “I should’ve known you would be difficult about this.” He kneeled between my legs with his cup of ice. “Do I need to tie your hands too?’ I shook my head. “If you try to make me stop, I will tie them. Understand?” “Yes...” “Good.” He placed an ice cube in his mouth and leaned forward, pressing it against my lower stomach, moving it down lower and lower. I moaned as two of his fingers plunged deep, and then I felt his tongue pressing the cube inside of me. I gasped at the coldness, trying to squeeze my legs shut, but they wouldn’t move. “Jonathan...” My voice was airy, strained. “Jonathan, stop...” He kept pushing the ice in and out of me, flicking his tongue against my lips as he did it, rendering me completely helpless. “Oh—Oh my god...” I could feel it melting, could feel his tongue lapping up the drops. “Stop...” He ignored me. He began kissing my lips like he was kissing my mouth—driving his tongue deeper and deeper, softly biting down on my clit—sucking on it as I writhed and pleaded for him to stop. The pleasure was too intense, too raw, and my body was convulsing with every stroke of his tongue. I reached down and threaded my fingers through his hair, too weak to push him away. As he placed his hands underneath my thighs, slightly lifting me up for a better angle, his lashes became more forceful, more vigorous. “Stop fighting it...” He drew my clit into his mouth—rolling his tongue all around it, and I lost all sense of time. I could hear myself screaming like I’d never screamed before—not sure how he could stand it, how he could keep torturing me like this. “Come for me, Claire,” he whispered, refusing to relent his pleasurable kisses. “Ahhh...I...I...” I felt him sucking me even harder—faster, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. Every nerve in me exploded and my body began shuddering violently. I clung to the sheets as my toes curled, as he made me cum harder than I’d ever cum in my life. My breathing was out of control; my body was still quivering, struggling to come down from an extreme high. “Claire?” I heard him say my name as he untied my legs, but I didn’t respond. I was too dazed, shocked. I could barely feel the kisses he was now placing against my stomach, against my chest. As he moved on top of me, tremors were still making their way through my body. I tried to calm down, but I felt him sliding into me—filling me, and I gasped. “Look at me,” he whispered, waiting for me to oblige. I held my head up, looking into his eyes, and he pressed his lips against my cheek. “You’re mine...You’ll always be mine...” He slowly pulled out of me, pushing his way back in, and for the first time there was nothing between us; we were skin to skin and I could feel a dramatic difference. I felt closer to him, more

complete. He took his time making love to me, holding my hands above my head as he pushed me into another mind-blowing climax. Once my body stopped convulsing, he slipped his arms around me and kissed my lips. “Are you okay?” he asked. I nodded because that’s all I could do. When I finally regained some strength, I pressed myself closer to him and stared into his eyes. I wasn’t sure how long we lay entwined together, or how long he held me tight and kissed me over and over again—telling me how beautiful I was. Every second seemed to blur together, but at some point I felt him getting out of the bed. My heart started to race. “Where are you going?” I cleared my throat, wincing when I felt how dry it was from screaming. “To get some more ice.” He smiled. “We’re going to do that again...And then I’m going to punish you for talking.”

Chapter 19 Claire Stop looking at him...Stop looking at him... I tried to keep my eyes focused on the interns that were standing at the front of the room. They were talking about why they deserved to have my two IPO ball tickets, but I couldn’t help but stare at Jonathan. He was sitting directly across from me and he wasn’t making it any easier for me to focus. He flashed a lusty smile every few seconds, playfully licked his lips, or gave me a look that said he wanted to take me across the conference table right after this meeting was over. I’d spent all day yesterday lying in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying every single second of Friday night—wishing it hadn’t come to an end. It was the most amazing sex I’d ever had and I still couldn’t believe how perfect it had been. “Miss Gracen?” Mr. Barnes cleared his throat. “Which team do you think did the best? Who do you pick?” I looked over at the four interns who stood in the corner with their eyes shut, hoping to be selected. They’d all done an incredible job and both teams technically deserved to go. “I pick both.” I smiled. “What? You only have two tickets to—” “One team can have my tickets to the IPO ball and the other team can have my tickets to the one day retreat in Napa Valley this weekend.” Everyone in the room let out a collective gasp; Jonathan’s eyes widened. “You’re giving up a private flight and a winery day?” Mr. Barnes sounded shocked. “Seriously?” I nodded. I’d been thrilled when the board sent all the directors an email about rewarding us for our hard work. They’d announced that they were giving us a first class flight to one of the best wineries in the country, but I knew I wouldn’t accept it as soon as they sent us the tickets. “I am...This will make the rest of the interns work even harder, don’t you think? I may still meet you guys there though. It is only a one hour drive away and I do love wine.” I laughed and the rest of the directors laughed with me. “Wow, that’s very generous of you.” He smiled. “Thank you interns for all your hard work and we’ll email you about which team gets what tickets later today.” We gave them one last round of applause as they left the room. As soon as the door shut, we all stood up and stretched while Mr. Barnes prepared the projector screen for our weekly “come together” session. “That was very nice of you...” Jonathan texted me. “Thank you.” “I designed that reward just for you. Why did you give it up?” “I was trying to be nice.” “A little too nice...” I looked up so I could give him a dramatic eye roll, but he wasn’t in front of me anymore. He was sitting right beside me. “Jonathan,” I whispered. “You can’t...Please don’t—”

“Please don’t what? I can’t sit next to you during the film?” “No...” “Why not?” I narrowed my eyes at him and he smiled. “Am I allowed to touch you in public yet?” He reached for the pen I was holding and pressed his fingers against my hand as he slowly drew it away. “Stop it.” “Stop what?” He purposely dropped the pen in my lap. I jumped up from the table and cleared my throat. “I’m going to get some coffee from downstairs before we start. Does anyone else want anything?” “Oh! Can you get me a caramel macchiato?” “I’ll take a regular coffee with extra foam!” “I’ll have a mocha latte!” I ripped a sheet of paper out of my notebook and held it out for people to write down their orders. “I’ll help you get the coffee, Miss Gracen.” Jonathan stood up and smiled at me. Shit...Why didn’t I think about that? I watched the paper stop at every single director, wondering if someone else would volunteer to help me bring it back, but by the time the paper made it full circle, no one had offered. “You don’t have to rush to get back.” Mr. Barnes handed me the paper. “It’s apparently going to take twenty to thirty minutes for our satellite advisor to join us on the video chat today. He’s having difficulties with his login.” “Right.” I walked out of the room and rushed towards the elevators. “I don’t need your help, Mr. Statham. I’ll just get a coffee cart and roll it back.” He rolled his eyes and hit the down button. “It’s too early for us to do anything...” I looked up at him, pleading. “It’s way too risky and you know it...” The elevator doors sprang open and he pushed me inside. I thought he was going to hit the stop button and kiss me anyway, but he pressed the button for the lobby and looked over at me. “I’m not trying to sleep with you right now, Claire,” he said. “I just want to be around you. That’s it.” “Okay...” The elevator reached the lobby and we both grabbed a coffee cart as soon as we stepped off. I tore the list in half and handed it to him. “It was nice of you to install a free Starbucks here...Everyone loves it.” “I’d hoped so. One of my employees thought the old coffee we served tasted like shit.” “It did.” He laughed. “Why did you really give up your winery ticket? Wine is one of your favorite things...” It’s my number one favorite thing... “I honestly just wanted to be nice...The interns have been working late hours too and they haven’t been getting paid extra so...” I handed my coffee list to the barista. “I didn’t know you planned that trip with me in mind.” “Well, now that you’re not going we can do something else together.” “Like what?” “I’ll think of something...” He handed his list to the other barista and helped me load napkins and pastries onto the cart. His phone started to ring and he stepped away. “I’ll be right back.” The barista set more coffees on the counter and I loaded them onto our carts. “Claire? Is that you?” Mr. Henderson stepped in front of me. “How have you been?” “I’ve been well and yourself? I haven’t seen you around in a while. Have you been sick?”

“No, I got a promotion.” He smiled. “I work in Operations now. I’m glad I ran into you though. Are you still going out with someone else?” “Yes.” He dramatically frowned and then he laughed. “Lucky guy. You know, if you ever—” “Mr. Henderson.” Jonathan came back and reached out for a handshake. “How are things in the Operations Department so far?” “They’re amazing. Thank you so much for the personal recommendation. I’d been applying for a position there for years.” “It’s not a problem.” Jonathan smiled at him. “I like to make sure hardworking people are exactly where they belong.” He shot me a disapproving glance. “Well, thank you again, Mr. Statham. I’ll see you around, Claire. Call me whenever the lucky guy messes up, okay?” Mr. Henderson winked at me and walked away. Jonathan rolled his eyes and helped me placed the finished coffees onto the carts. “You gave him a promotion to keep him away from me didn’t you?” I couldn’t believe him. “What are you talking about?” He started pushing his cart towards the elevator. “Tell me the truth.” “Tell you that I put in a word for him to get the job he wanted?” I shook my head and stepped onto the elevator. “No. Tell me that you did it because he—” “Yes.” He pushed me against the wall as soon as the doors closed. “I made him senior advisor and moved the entire operations department to the building across the street so he wouldn’t cross paths with you, just in case you forget who you’re dating again. And yes, I’ll do it to anyone else who comes onto you. As of matter of fact, now that I’ve seen him getting coffee over here, I’m going to have a Starbucks installed in the building across the street, so there’s no need for him to come over here again. Satisfied?” I blinked. “I thought so.” The elevator doors opened and he pushed his cart towards the conference room, stopping once he was outside the door. “Tell them I have another meeting to go to this afternoon.” He brushed his lips against my cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”

I brought a glass of water to my lips and sighed. I was sitting in the private room of Jardinière, an upscale restaurant in Hayes Valley. There were softly burning candles set on my table and a large red rose bouquet that read, “I’m very sorry that you’re alone right now. I promise I’ll make it up to you— Jonathan.” “Would you like to have a glass of wine while you wait, Miss?” the waiter asked. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” He gave me a sympathetic smile and walked away. I’d been sitting alone for thirty minutes, wondering exactly “how late” Jonathan was going to be. He’d texted me right after work, letting me know that his board meeting was going to be “a long one,” and that Greg would pick me up for our date tonight. I scrolled through my phone again, hoping to see a text from him, but I felt his hand rub against my bare back; felt him pressing a kiss against my shoulder. “Good evening, Claire.” “Hi...” My body immediately came to life, reacting to his sexy voice and his gentle touch. He kissed my neck and whispered softly in my ear, “Are you wearing anything underneath this?”

He tugged at the low cut on the back of my dress. I shook my head and he let out an approving, “Hmmm,” before taking a seat across from me. “How was your meeting?” I asked. “It was unnecessarily long and dry as usual. I’ll be happy when this IPO is behind me. I don’t think I can—” His eyes met mine and he sucked in a breath. He reached over the table and clasped my hand. “What’s wrong with you?” “What? What are you talking about?” “Glad to see to you’ve arrived safely, Mr. Statham.” The waiter stepped over to our table. “What wine will you two be having tonight?” “Could you give us a second please?” Jonathan kept his eyes on me as the waiter disappeared. “Your eyes are red, and I’m pretty sure your mascara is supposed to be on your eyelashes, not underneath your eyes. You’ve been crying?” “No, I have really bad allergies.” I reached into my purse for my compact mirror. “I swear, this time of year always gets to me. There’s so much pollen in the—” “Stop lying to me, Claire.” I sighed. “It’s not that big of a deal. It was an angry cry.” “About me being late?” “No...I—” “Let’s go.” He stood up and reached for my hand. “We can talk in the car.” I leaned against him as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and walked me out of the restaurant. Valet pulled his car to the front as soon as we approached, and as usual, he helped me into my seat and waited until I was comfortable before speeding away. I didn’t know where he was taking me and I honestly didn’t care. If we rode around aimlessly for the rest of the night I would be happy with that. We sped through the city streets, past all the glimmering lights. When we came to a stop sign, he looked over at me. “Do you plan on ever talking?” “I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be punished if I did.” He rolled his eyes. “Good to know it’s not that serious.” “It’s not.” I shook my head. “My daughters are taking a flight to Anaheim later tonight...It’s their baby stepbrother ’s birthday, so their dad called at the last minute. He said he wanted them to join him and his ho at Disneyland tomorrow.” “You’re upset because they’re going?” “No, he’ll always be their dad and he can see them whenever he wants...I’m upset because he waited until the very last minute to mention it. We have an arrangement, and I know he didn’t buy those plane tickets yesterday, you know?” “I see. Well, that’s understandable. Do I need to have you home early so you can drop them off at the airport?” “No. Their grandmother always takes them to and from the airport...” “Hmmm...” He looked concerned. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m not that upset, I promise. I just hate when he calls—hate that he still exists...I’m sure hanging with you tonight will keep my mind off—” “What’s your favorite movie?” “Anastasia. Why?” “The cartoon?” I nodded. “Yeah, but—”

“And you laughed at me about Harry Potter?” He rolled his eyes and made a sudden U-turn, driving in the other direction. “Have you eaten anything since lunch?” I shook my head and he pulled out his phone. “Greg? Miss Gracen and I would like to see a movie...No, dinner will need to be delivered—no seafood...Yes, that would be perfect actually...Anastasia...Yes, I’m aware that it’s animated...An hour more than likely...Thank you.” “You shut down movie theaters too?” I looked at him as he put his phone away. “Something like that...” He pulled over at a small convenience store. “I’ll be right back. Do you want anything out of here?” I shook my head and he kissed me before walking away. As I sat in the car alone, I wondered if he was really capable of shutting down a theater just so he and I could watch a film that was thirteen years old. I leaned back in the seat and shut my eyes, thinking about “us” once again. I was starting to believe that this thing we had might actually go somewhere—even though I was still afraid to completely embrace it. I was starting to believe that— “Claire, stop it right now.” Jonathan got back in the car and I opened my eyes. “Stop what?” “You know what you were doing.” He handed me a small carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a pink spoon. “I figured this would help cheer you up a bit. It’s going to be a long drive and you might get hungry on the way...” I smiled, shocked that he’d actually remembered my favorite comfort food. “Tell me the truth. Do you really record our phone conversations?” “No, Claire.” He revved up the car. “I just have a good memory. It’s also pretty hard to forget anything about you.” He drove away into the night and I savored every bite of that ice cream; it always did make me feel better. As the car cruised out of the city, I started to wonder where the hell we were going. We weren’t anywhere near a movie theater—or civilization for that matter. There was nothing but open fields of grass everywhere I looked. I thought about asking him where he was taking me, but I knew he wouldn’t tell me. I looked over at him and he placed his hand on my thigh, gently caressing it as he drove. I started to shut my eyes, but the car came to a sudden stop in front of a huge white billboard. “Did you run out of gas or something?” I stretched my arms up. “Do we need to start walking?” “No. Get in the back seat.” I didn’t move. I didn’t understand why I needed to get in the backseat for him to drive the rest of the way to the movies, didn’t understand why he’d changed our plans from a night at the theater to random car sex. “I swear...” He pressed a button and the top of the convertible folded down. He stepped out of the car and moved to my side, picking me up and placing me in the backseat. He slid in next to me and began fiddling with a black device. I was thinking of something smart to say, fixing my mouth to ask a myriad of questions, but out of nowhere, a projector light flashed onto the blank billboard, and the opening credits of Anastasia began to play. The sound seemed to be coming from all around us, but I couldn’t see where the speakers were. “I figured that since you’re still hesitant about being seen in public together, we could watch the movie this way.” He kissed my cheek. “Plus, the chairs here recline a lot further than they do in the regular theater...” He tapped a button and our seats slowly set back. He slid closer and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sure we’ll take advantage of them after our dinner gets here.”

I snuggled up to his chest and kissed him. “Or we could take advantage of them now...”

Chapter 20 Jonathan “I think that went rather well,” my mother said as our therapist left the office. “It did...” I wasn’t sure if it was because we were actually sorting out our issues, or if being with Claire so much made me calmer, but my mother and I had completed several therapy sessions without blowing up on one another. She pulled a purse over her shoulder and stood up. “Did I tell you I got a raise last week?” “No...You have a job?” She nodded. “I didn’t want to say anything until I was past the probation period, but—” “You don’t have to work.” “I know, but I need something that’ll occupy my time and keep me on the straight and narrow. I don’t want to fall back into my old habits.” Jesus...She really is trying to stay clean this time... “Would you like a ride? I can have Greg take you. Where is it exactly?” “No, I’m fine. I’m in a buddy program; my ride should be here in any second. It’s a small shop near the eastern docks. It has the most amazing view of the ocean.” I stepped around my desk and gave her a hug. “I’m proud of you...” I wanted to say more, to say that I would meet her down there some time for lunch, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I couldn’t let myself hope that she would actually change for good; she’d let me down way too many times for that. My secretary buzzed my intercom. “Mr. Statham? I have—” “I thought I said absolutely no interruptions today.” I groaned. “I told you I was going to be extremely busy and can’t afford to—” “It’s Miss Gracen, sir.” “Oh...I’m sorry, Angela. Send her in please.” I let go of my mother and noticed that she was raising her eyebrow, looking as if I owed her some type of explanation. “Who is she?” she asked. “Who’s who?” “The woman who clearly has more privileges than I do...I’ve been turned away numerous times with the ‘Mr. Statham isn’t available for any unscheduled meetings today’ line. Why is this woman so important?” I sighed. “She’s my girlfriend.” “Really? Can I meet her?” Her eyes lit up. “Please?” “You can say Hello, and then you can say Goodbye.” “Jonathan, I—” “We’re not there yet. Don’t try to force it.” She gritted her teeth. “Fine...” Forget it. She doesn’t deserve to meet Claire. I reached for her hand so I could walk her out, but the door to my office had already opened.

Claire sauntered in wearing a fitted navy blue dress and a light beige jacket, with matching high heels that made her legs look even longer. She smiled, and just like that, I forgot all about my annoying mother and the hectic day ahead. “Good afternoon.” I walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “You look amazing...” I led her over to my mom. “This is my mother, Denise Statham. Mother, this is—” “Claire,” my mom interrupted as she reached out for Claire’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You’re absolutely gorgeous... Jonathan’s very lucky to have you.” “Thank you, Mrs. Statham.” “I’ll see you next week, son.” My mom gave me one last hug and headed towards the back walls of my office, towards the private elevator. I pulled Claire into my arms. “Is something wrong? Are you sick? It must be something fatal if you came up here during the hours when people might actually see you.” She rolled her eyes. “We just wrapped up the sTablet so Mr. Barnes is letting us go home early. My phone died, so I figured I’d come tell you that before you thought I was ignoring you.” “Good decision. I would take you out to lunch to celebrate, but I’m booked with meetings until six. Dinner? There’s a new bistro down at—” “Mr. Statham?” Angela’s voice came over the intercom once more. “I hate to bother you again, but Miss Griffin is here with an emergency. She says it can’t wait another second.” I sighed and stepped back. “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.” I pulled out a chair for her and walked out of the room. “This better be an emergency, Vanessa.” “It is. I don’t use that word lightly.” I followed her down the hall into a conference room and sat down. “What is it?” “The Noracorps transaction was approved by the board and we were about to fax it off to the bank, but we’re missing your signature on several documents. It’s kind of the most important one, don’t you think?” “Oh.” That definitely would’ve been a disaster... I took the folder from her hands and pulled out a pen, initialing every necessary blank, reading over highlighted paragraphs here or there. “Do I need to sign off on these C-18 forms too?” She batted her eyes. “Yes...” Ugh, god...I started signing the blanks faster, purposely avoiding her flirty glances each time she cleared her throat. Ever since she’d gotten upset with me after that late night meeting, I’d put some serious distance between us. I still spoke with her after meetings, still laughed at her witty jokes, but I never allowed myself to be alone with her for too long. “You’re really not going to tell me your new girlfriend’s name?” She placed her hand over the documents. “It’s none of your business.” “I’m dating someone new...” “That’s great.” I smiled. “I’m happy to hear that.” Ecstatic to hear that... “His name is Paul Jordan and he owns a chain of mid-scale hotels. See? I told you his name now you can tell me hers.” “What does the name of the woman I’m dating have to do with our acquisition of NoraCorps tomorrow? I thought signing these documents was the reason why you came up here.” She sighed. “It was. Don’t forget that they’re going to be here in the morning. They want to get official copies of the bank’s approval forms. I think this may be the second best investment we’ve ever made.”

“Me too.” I stood up. “I’ll get here early tomorrow. I’ll have the chef make something for—” “Is it the redhead who works in Marketing?” She grabbed my hand. “The director who did all that work for the sPhone blue?” I raised my eyebrow. “I saw you two holding hands in the garage late last night...She’s really pretty—stunning even...I just...” She shook her head. “All these years that I’ve been here, I’ve tried getting close to you, and you’ve always pushed me away...Why? Why am I not good enough for you?” I couldn’t believe she was trying to pull this emotional bullshit with me. I remained stoic; I needed to choose my next words very carefully. “I’m not like Audrey...” She reached up and ran her hands across my chest, making my skin crawl. “I’m not trying to use you or push you over the edge to get your money. I’m your friend and you can’t deny that we have undeniable chemistry...I’ve looked out for you ever since my father invested in your company. I even sat with Hayley through some of her skin grafting surgeries when you couldn’t be there...I’m not a dimwitted bimbo, a gold-digger, or a divorcée with kids whose trying to live out her cougar dreams and get you to marry her so she can run off with all your money after she divorces you. I’m not like —” “Excuse me?” She bit her lip and traced her fingertips along my mouth. “I’m just saying that I wouldn’t take advantage of you like some of the women you’ve been interested in. And even though I’m dating someone else now, whenever you come to your senses, I’ll—” “Okay.” I grabbed her hand and moved it away. “Since you clearly don’t understand what the word ‘no’ means, let me help you with the exact definition: I am not interested in you. I will never be interested in you. I don’t give a damn what you think about whoever you assume I’m dating, but if she happens to be a divorcée with kids, she’s ten times better than you would ever be for me. I’m aware that me canceling the employee fraternization policy left you feeling confused about your imaginary status of “us,” but sexual harassment goes both ways and that policy is still in effect. Are we clear?” I took her stunned silence and dropped jaw to be a yes. “I’ll see you in the morning.” I turned away from her and walked out. I headed to my office and took a deep breath. I was going to have to limit my interactions with Vanessa to business only until she got a grip on herself—maybe even avoid her completely. I walked inside and pulled Claire to her feet. “I’m so sorry about that. What was I saying before?” “Dinner...” “Right. There’s a new restaurant down at Fisherman’s Wharf and I’d love to—” “Rain check? I promised the girls I would make pasta tonight. Maybe we can—” “I like pasta.” “Oh. Well, I’ll bring the leftovers to work tomorrow. Do you want me to pack parmesan cheese with—” “I can’t come over and have dinner with you and your family?” “Um...” “Um?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “What type of answer is that?” “You want to meet my daughters?” “Do they know I exist?” She nodded. “Then what’s the problem?” “Nothing...” She looked surprised. “Dinner is at seven.”

I pulled up to her house ten minutes early. I’d bought three custom bouquets of spring roses—one for Claire, one for Ashley and Caroline, and a large bottle of sparkling apple cider to share over dinner. I walked up the steps and pressed the doorbell, smiling at the memory of the first time I’d done that in January. Within seconds, one of her daughters opened the door. She tilted her head to the side, causing her wavy red hair to fall with her, and she blinked several times. She was the spitting image of Claire, only she had more dominant freckles on her cheeks and her eyes were a much paler green. “Mom! It’s that guy you told us about!” She called behind her shoulder. Then she stared at me. “Are you going to let me in, Ashley?” I smiled. “Whoa. How do you know my name already?” “Your mom told me a while ago, but you’re still wearing your name tag from work.” “Oh yeah...” She stepped back and let me in. Her other daughter—Caroline, came down the steps and stood next to Ashley. Then they both stared at me, blinking in unison. They were dressed in the same work uniform—white collared shirts with khakis, and all their freckles were in the exact same places. I wasn’t sure how anyone could ever tell them apart. I handed them the rose bouquets, hoping they would lead me to Claire, but they simply said “Awwww” at the flowers and continued staring at me. “I guess he’s hot after all. Mom did a really good job.” Ashley nodded. “I like his tie.” “I like his shoes.” Caroline tapped her lip. “Do you think he dresses like this every day or he’s dressing like this to impress her?” “Probably just to impress her. He can’t afford to dress like that every day...I bet he got these flowers at the discount stand down the street.” “Or maybe he works at the discount stand down the street.” “Yeah...He’s probably a salesman—a hot salesman though.” Do they not realize that I can HEAR them? “What’s his name again?” “Jonathan, ladies.” I smiled. “Where’s your mother?” “Dining room,” they uttered in unison. Okay... I realized that they were never going to lead me in the right direction, so I walked around them. I saw Claire setting the table and handed her the last bouquet. “Thank you.” She smiled. “I don’t think the hundred I receive in my office every morning are enough.” “I’ll be sure to increase the amount. Do you need any help with dinner?” “No, thank you. It’s already done.” She set down a stack of napkins. “Ashley! Caroline! Dinner ’s ready!” The next few minutes that unfolded were like a scene out of a fifties television sitcom: Ashley and Caroline rushed into the room and took their places at the table. They passed around the plates and bowls, laughing at nothing at all. Then Claire set down a huge bowl of pasta and the girls took turns spooning out huge helpings. They talked excitedly about their day at school—a second successful bake sale with the cheerleading team, an A they both received in Physics class, and some “lame loser” who liked Ashley but couldn’t tell her apart from Caroline. I’d only seen this type of behavior in movies or on TV. I didn’t know this actually happened in real life. “So Jonathan—wait, we can call you Jonathan right?” Caroline passed me the breadstick basket.

“That’s perfectly fine.” “Great! So, what’s it like being a flower salesman? Do you get good tips? Do you cut your own stems?” I laughed. “I’m not a flower salesman.” I wondered why Claire hadn’t told them that. “I’m the CEO of Statham Industries.” “What!” She gasped. “You’re the CEO of mom’s company?” She pulled out her phone and scrolled across the screen. She raised her eyebrow and hit Ashley on the shoulder. “Ashley, he has his own Wikipedia page...Wait, why isn’t his picture on here?” “Maybe he has low self-esteem...” Ashley shrugged. WHAT? “No, I just prefer to keep a low profile.” “Weird...” Ashley tapped her phone’s screen and looked at me. “So...you’re a billionaire? You’re like filthy rich?” I smiled. “You could say that.” “You didn’t tell us he was rich, mom! You should’ve said that first! In that case...Caroline and I are trying to get my mom to make a certain decision for us and we need your rich opinion.” Oh god... “What is it?” I noticed Claire glaring at her from across the table. “We think we each deserve to have our own car. We do everything right in school, we work parttime at the airport, and we hardly get in any trouble. If you had a twin brother, would you want to share everything? We just got our own rooms a few years ago, and we think it’s way past time for a car. What do you think?” I wasn’t exactly sure how to handle this. I didn’t have any experience with teenage angst. “Um...” I cleared my throat. “Are either of you trying to buy your own car?” “Is he serious?” “Did he really just say that?” “Ask him again. Maybe we heard that wrong...” “We didn’t.” Ashley rolled her eyes. “If you’ll excuse us—mother, Jonathan...We have some work to finish...” They both stood up and narrowed their eyes at me before disappearing into another room. What did I say? “Thank you for telling them that.” Claire walked over and brushed her lips against mine. “We didn’t bore you too much tonight, did we?” “No, not at all. It was just different.” “What do you mean, different?” “Having a family dinner. I’ve never had that before.” “Your foster fam—” “They always made me eat alone in my room.” I shook my head at the ugly memories. “The dinner table was for their real children.” “Your biological parents never cooked dinner when you were little? Not once?” “Not that I recall...Although there was this onetime when my mom promised to cook a Christmas dinner...She hyped it up all week, saying that we were finally going to have a real holiday meal together. She even made me and Hayley write out a list of everything we wanted her to make. She and my dad took the lists with them to the grocery store on Christmas Eve...” “What happened?” “They didn’t come back until New Year ’s.” “Oh,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry...” “Jonathan?” Ashley—I think, peeked around the corner. “Do you have a steady hand?” “I think so. Why?”

“Me and Caroline need someone to trace the blueprint of our model Boeing 707 while we go over the coding. My mom’s hands aren’t steady at all.” I kissed Claire on her cheek. “Okay.” I followed Ashley into a large room that was painted light blue with fluffy white clouds. There were model planes everywhere—hanging from the ceiling, sitting in glass cases, and standing on the wall. “So, putting model planes together is your hobby?” I sat down and began tracing a blueprint in white chalk. “Is this what you two—” “Our hobby?” Caroline scoffed. “You are sitting with two of our nation’s future top pilots. This is our career we’re talking about.” “Yeah.” Ashley held up a chart of code. “There aren’t that many women in the skies, and me and my sister are going to change that.” I looked over their charts, noticing that some of the equations were similar to the ones I’d used to build former programs; a lot of this stuff wasn’t taught until college. Claire had told me that they were practically geniuses when it came to books, but I’d never met any teenagers who were this well-versed in Physics. “Do you have your own plane, Jonathan?” Ashley etched a diagonal line alongside my paper. “I do.” “What model?” “What type of engine?” “What’s the passenger capacity?” “Is the nonstop range over two thousand miles?” “I have no idea...” “What!” Ashley traced around my wing. “How is that possible? You bought a plane and you didn’t ask any of these questions?” “I guess I have people to do that for me...” I shrugged. “If your mom says it’s okay, I’ll take you on a trip one day. I have an excellent pilot. I’m sure he’d love to give you a tour and answer all your questions.” They both screamed and squealed, and then they went silent all of sudden, focusing on the task at hand. “Dessert?” Claire poked her head through the door. “I made crushed Oreo and Butterfinger sundaes.” “Nobody move!” Ashley yelled. “I need him to hold the wing steady for one more minute. You can’t bring the sundaes in here, mom?” “No, that’s okay...I don’t want to mess up the new carpet.” Claire flinched. “They’ll be in the kitchen whenever you’re ready. Okay?” The twins murmured, “Okay” and kept their eyes glued to the charts. Once they finished checking my wing-tracing and writing down the measurements, they dismissed me with an “Okay mom’s boyfriend, you can go now. We’ll be out for dessert eventually.” I went back into the kitchen but I didn’t see Claire. The sundaes she’d made were sitting on a small tray, slowly melting onto the table, so I placed them in the freezer. I circled around the living room and her newly finished hallways, looking to see where she’d run off to. I started to walk upstairs, but I heard the creaking of a rocking bench coming from her porch. “You okay, Claire?” I stepped outside. “Yeah...I forgot tonight was going to be a starry night.” She pointed up at the twinkling sky. “I wanted to look at it before I cleaned.” I sat down and pulled her close. “Thank you for dinner tonight. I loved it.” “You’re welcome. Maybe next time you can come over earlier and cook for all of us instead.” “You’re referring to our future now? You sure you’re okay?”

She laughed and snuggled against my chest. “Could you please tell me what you want for your birthday? It’s this weekend.” “Nothing. I never celebrate it.” “Why not?” “I just don’t.” I needed to stay off that subject. Forever. “Is there a reason why your daughters have iPhones and not sPhones?” “Of course there is.” She smirked. “It’s because everyone knows that iPhones are better.” “Are they really?” “Yeah. iPhones are so sleek and modern. They do everything the sPhone does and more. As a matter of fact, the only reason I have a sPhone is because the CEO insists on making every employee have one. If it wasn’t for that, I would definitely have an iPhone. It even sounds better than sPhone.” “Take it back right now or I’ll fire you.” “I even think the commercials for the iPhones are better. I bet their marketing team would be a joy to work for. They make me want to trade in my phone every time I see them on TV.” I pulled her into my lap and narrowed my eyes at her. “Take. It. Back.” “Make. Me.” I laughed and sealed my lips over hers. “I will.”

Chapter 21 Jonathan I hit the lights in my office and froze: There were hundreds of bright silver streamers hanging from the ceiling. Blue and white balloons covered every inch of the floor, and there was glittery confetti all over my furniture. There was even a huge banner strung across the windows that read, “Happy Birthday, Jonathan!” “Angela!” She rushed into the room. “Yes, Mr. Statham?” “Who did you let into my office? I thought we thoroughly discussed the rules. No one is allowed in my office when I’m not here.” “She wouldn’t take no for answer,” she whispered. “She was very firm...” “Who is this she?” “Miss Gracen...” “Hmmm.” I held back a laugh. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.” “You’re not going to write me up for this are you? She threatened me...” “Have I ever written you up?” “No...” She grinned. “Your eight o’ clock appointment just arrived. Do you want me to have maintenance pick up all the balloons first?” “No, they can stay. Send the guys inside in five minutes.” “Yes sir.” I walked over to my desk and spotted a small white cake in the shape of the letter J and a silver envelope. I picked it up and sliced it open: Dear Jonathan, I know you said that you don’t normally do anything for your birthday, but I want to celebrate it with you anyway. I made us a nine o’ clock reservation at Sierra Mar, and I look forward to seeing you tonight. We can do anything you want :-) Yours, Claire I set the card down and smiled. Whenever I’d told the other women I dated that I didn’t celebrate my birthday, they simply said “Okay” and left it alone. There were no surprise balloons and cake, no surprise dinner dates. There weren’t even simple cards. Then again, I’d always made sure I was out of the country to prevent that from happening. “I’m sending them in now, Mr. Statham.” Angela’s voice bounced off my walls. A young man in a black suit walked through my door, trying his hardest to step around all the balloons. “Good morning, Mr. Statham.” “Good morning, Mr. Harris. Where’s Mr. Fletcher?” “Right here, sir.” Another young man walked in right behind him. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. We’re happy you agreed to do this short follow up.” “It’s an honor to be featured.” I shook their hands and motioned for them to take a seat. I walked around my desk and sat down, leaning back as they pulled out their digital recorders.

“As you know, Mr. Statham,” Mr. Harris said, “we’re both writers for Tech-Next Magazine. We’re here to get a few personal quotes for our issue that will debut the same day your company goes public. We just had a few that weren’t answered the last time.” “Ask away.” “First question: When you started this company, what was your original vision?” “I’m honestly not sure how to answer that. My former college professor—” I suddenly felt familiar hands unbuttoning my pants beneath the desk. “Mr. Statham?” “I’m sorry.” I smiled. “My former college professor didn’t make me outline a plan back then. He only wanted me to develop better computers and come up with new software ideas.” “Are there any ideas that were scrapped in the start-up years and are going to be developed in the near future?” I took a deep breath as my pants were tugged down, as Claire placed soft kisses along the inside of my thighs. “Um, no. Most of what I designed back then has already been developed, but there are always newer ideas that come our way. And...” I felt her kisses becoming more forceful, more passionate. “With technology advancing as fast as it has over the past five years, we’re looking forward to putting more products out for the public each year.” He nodded and looked at his paper. “When your first computer took off, breaking the record for the fastest selling home computer, did you think you would stick to computers forever?” “No, I—” I suppressed a groan. Claire was running her hands up and down my dick and I was clenching every muscle in my body—trying my hardest to stay focused on this interview and not pull her from under the desk. “I never wanted to stick to computers. At the time, I did that because home computers were what everyone seemed to want, but I was always looking ahead, wondering about the possibilities of the days when computers would be outdated.” “Are you shocked at how well your company has done over the years?” “Yes.” I sucked in a breath as Claire’s tongue teased the tip of my dick, as she swirled it around and around. “I’m very shocked...” I sighed as she started to take me deeper and deeper into her mouth. “Do you have any words of inspiration for those who are trying to enter the software world? Any advice for those who dream of taking your spot at the top of the technology chain one day?” God, I love this woman... “I would tell them to work ten times harder than the hardest working person they know. And that there’s a big difference between talent and persistence: It’s nice to have both, but the latter always wins.” “Thank you so much, Mr. Statham! I think we got everything.” “Happy birthday by the way.” They both reached over my desk and shook my hand. “No, thank you.” For cutting this interview short... I stayed glued to my seat and handed them my business card. “If you need anything else, feel free to call me. Make sure my secretary gives both of you a sPhone blue before you leave.” Their eyes widened and they practically screamed “Thank you” before rushing out of my office. I buzzed Angela. “Please hold any other meetings until I say so.” “Yes sir.” I rolled my chair back and pulled Claire from underneath the desk. I didn’t say anything; I just laughed as she blushed bright red and smiled. “I can’t believe you did that...” I stood up and pulled her body close to mine. “That was very... inappropriate.” I pressed my lips against hers and ran my fingers through her hair. She let a moan escape her mouth and I pulled her even closer, kissing her like it was the last time we’d see each other.

“Cancel the rest of your day,” I whispered. “I can’t...” “Why not?” “I really need the overtime...” She caught her breath. “Plus, it’s promo week. Everyone is staying at least two hours over. That’s why our dinner reservation is so late. I can try to come back up at six thirty or—” “I don’t think so.” I picked up my phone and called Angela. “Could you get me Harry in Executive Affairs please? Thank you... Hello, Harry. How are you? I’m great, thanks for asking. I’m calling because I need you to send out a mass memo from my account. The key code signature is eight, one, zero, five, one, six. Make sure you hit seven on the after screen so I can reset the code once the email has been sent...Are you logged in and ready? Good. Type these exact words: Dear Statham Industries employees, thank you for all your hard work over the years. The company wouldn’t be where it is now without you. To show you how much I mean that, today and Monday are surprise vacation days. You will still be paid for your regular shift and you’ll be awarded an additional two hours of pay per day. Thank you for all that you do. Sincerely, Jonathan Statham.” I hung up. I didn’t give Claire a chance to react. I pushed her against my desk and pulled her shirt over her head. “Why would you—” “Shhh.” I unbuttoned her pants. “I’ll do anything to spend more time with you.” I slid her pants down to the floor and smiled at the new see-through black panties she was wearing. “For my birthday?” She nodded and I laid her across the desk, determined to kiss every inch of her. “Mr. Statham!” Angela screamed over the intercom. WHAT?! “Yes, Angela?” “Your lead trust advisor is at my desk. He’s demanding to speak with you about that email you just sent.” I planted kisses across Claire’s stomach, stifling her moans with my hands. “Tell him I’m busy.” “He says he’ll wait until you’re free...” Why can’t people just be fucking normal and accept a free off day? “I’ll be out in twenty minutes.” “Um...Am I allowed to go home sir?” “Yes.” I laughed. “See you Tuesday, Angela.” I pulled Claire up and tossed her over my shoulder, laughing at her pitiful attempt to act like she wasn’t enjoying this. I carried her into my adjoining suite and hit the bathroom lights. “I guess we’ll just relax until everyone leaves.” I set her down in front of the Jacuzzi and ran my hands across her legs. “You’re amazing...Do you know that?” “So are you...” She kissed me and I turned on the water, pressing the “heated spa” setting. I unclipped her bra and let it fall to the floor. Then I reached around her neck to unclasp her white and red flag charmed necklace, but she gasped and defensively held her hand over it. She stepped away from me and took several deep breaths, as if she’d nearly drowned and come up for air. She leaned back against the counter and squeezed her eyes shut. I watched as she tried to compose herself, realizing that I’d never seen her without those two flag charms. Even when she wore a more elegant necklace, those charms were always attached—like they were a part of her. I tilted her head up and looked into her eyes. “You don’t really have a fascination with red and white flags do you?” “No...”

I ran my fingers across the necklace and tugged at the white charm. “They mean something to you don’t they?” She nodded. “Are you going to tell me what that something is?” She didn’t say anything, but I could see a hint of pain in her eyes, a small lump rising up her throat. The look on her face was something I’d never seen from her; it was a look of complete vulnerability. “I’m sorry. I won’t try to take it off again...I promise.” I brought her head close to mine. “Is the heated spa setting good enough for you?” She nodded and smiled, and it looked like she’d completely forgotten about my attempt to take off that necklace. She slid her panties down to the floor and I immediately picked her up and placed her into the tub. “I’ll be right back.” I adjusted my pants and headed back to my office. I walked over to the door and let my lead advisor inside. “Are you coming to tell me Happy Birthday, Milton? Someone already beat you to it.” “No.” He picked up one of the balloons and popped it. “Is that why you gave every employee the day off? Because it’s your birthday?” “Would it be a problem if I did?” “Need I remind you that every move we make between now and—” “The day we go public will be crucial. There’s no need to remind me. I’m aware.” “Are you? Because halting production for two workdays doesn’t sound like something a wellinformed CEO would do.” “You think I’m well-informed? It’s not too often that I get compliments from you.” “I think you’re delusional, and if you think that I’m going to sit around and let you drag this company down to the ground because you want to eat cake and play with balloons all day, then you are sadly mistaken.” He shook his head. “Milton...” “Your ass isn’t the only ass on the line, Jonathan. There’s too much work at stake and a random vacation isn’t going to get it all done. You need to send a follow up email right now and get your employees back to their desks before they—” “Milton—” I cut him off. “Go home and enjoy the damn vacation days. You worry too much. Everyone has been stressing out over the smallest things and worrying about stuff that doesn’t even matter. We could all use a break. By the time everyone gets back from vacation on Tuesday, the workplace will be much happier and we’ll be re-focused on the IPO. Trust me.” “Fine...” He sighed and opened my door. “Enjoy your birthday.” “Thank you. I will.” I shut down my computer and turned off all the lights. I locked the door that connected my office to my living suite and went back into the bathroom. Claire was busy toying with the remote, turning up the volume on a slow instrumental song. I quickly undressed and slid into the warm tub, reaching for her. “Come here.” “I prefer this corner.” I rolled my eyes and moved over to her side, wrapping my arms around her. “I almost thought my lead trust advisor was more difficult than you are. How wrong that was...” “Whatever.” She laughed. “Guess who I ran into yesterday?” “Who?” “Mr. Henderson...He got another promotion. Apparently he’s going to be working at the high affairs office at our other campus across town. Do you know anything about that?”

Yes... “No, but that’s quite interesting.” “Is it?” “It is.” She sighed. “Admit it. Right now.” “Admit what?” “That you’re ridiculously jealous—” “You already know that.” “And that you gave him a second promotion because you don’t want him anywhere near me.” I rolled my eyes. “I gave him a second promotion because I looked through his file and saw that he’d actually applied for the same senior position five years in a row and had been turned down. I gave him a promotion because he has a stellar review record and deserved to be recognized. His coming on to you again was just the catalyst that made me promote him faster.” “Are you going to promote every man that flirts with me?” “No. I’ll fire whoever does it next.” She looked like she was about to go into one of her “I just don’t understand you tirades” but then her face softened and she burst into laughter. I picked up a floating loofah and brushed it against her neck. “Is my birthday dinner tonight nonnegotiable, even though I don’t want to go?” “Yes.” “Fine.” I sighed. “Should I assume that you used your credit card to hold the reservation?” “Who else’s would I use?” “You could’ve asked for mine. I trust you...And I trust that you know better than to actually pay for dinner.” “It’s your birthday, Jonathan. That’s what happens when you—” “You never have to pay for anything.” I kissed her shoulder. “Ever.”

I made sure that tonight’s dinner at Sierra Mar would be placed on my card before we walked inside. The restaurant was nestled high into a barrage of cliffs that overlooked the Pacific Ocean; its panoramic windows revealed the entire shoreline of the California coast. The waitress led us past a full room of white clothed tables and into a private room that appeared to sit amongst the clouds. My eyes immediately veered towards a table with two sparkling gifts, towards the woman that was sitting beside them. Hayley?! It couldn’t be... My sister hardly ever came to San Francisco, even when I begged her to. I always had to meet her in Memphis, or in some other city on the East Coast. She claimed she couldn’t stand “the air” on the West Coast and vowed to never come until she started to work for me. I stopped walking and looked at Claire. My voice was a whisper. “You got Hayley to come here?” “Is that not okay? I’m sorry if I overstep—” “It’s more than okay...” I was utterly shocked. Not much in life surprised me. “John!” Hayley jumped up as soon as her eyes met mine. “Happy Birthday!” “Thank you.” I hugged her. “I thought you weren’t coming here until the fall.” She looked over at Claire and laughed. “I wasn’t! Have a seat, have a seat. I already ordered for the two of you since you’re thirty minutes late. Traffic?” No, sex...“Yeah...” She shrugged. “Oh well. Claire, it’s great to finally put a face to the name. How was your—”

I zoned out. I couldn’t believe Claire had managed to get my sister to come to town. I still couldn’t believe that she’d decorated my office earlier or set up a surprise dinner. No one had ever done anything like that for me, and I was trying to determine if it was real or not. I heard my sister asking me questions as the dinner courses were served, but all I could do was look at Claire and smile as she threw her sexy green gaze back at me. I thought about how much she’d pushed me away in the beginning, how she still had parts of herself that were closed off—completely off limits. I was getting close to her now and she knew it, but she wasn’t pushing me away as much, she was pulling herself closer. “Are you going to blow out the candles or are you going to wait until your cake catches fire?” Hayley shook my shoulder. “Hello!” “What?” I snapped out of my thoughts and noticed the three layer cupcake sitting in front of me. There was a “To Jonathan, From Claire” message signed in whipped chocolate on the side of its plate. Smiling, I blew out the sparklers and looked over at Claire again. “I didn’t know they served cupcakes here...” “They don’t,” she said. “But when you tell them your date is Jonathan Statham they’ll make whatever you want.” “Is that so?” She smiled. “Would you two please excuse me for a minute? I need to take this call.” “Of course.” I stood up and helped her out of the chair, giving her a quick kiss before she walked away. “Since when do you celebrate your birthday?” Hayley crossed her arms once Claire was out of earshot. “Do I need to buy you a gift too?” “No.” I laughed. “She made me do this. What made you come during the semester?” “Your girlfriend is pretty damn persuasive. She made me fly in yesterday. Is she a lawyer or something?” “No, she works with me at the company...You talk to dad lately?” “Unfortunately...He got sent to solitary confinement again last week—contraband. It’s going to be a rough six years for him. You talk to mom?” “New job. Eastern sea-docks. Five months post-rehab. Decent therapy sessions.” “Noted...Maybe the thirteenth time really is the charm.” I picked up my wine glass. “We’ll see.” “You must really like Claire, huh?” “What makes you say that?” “Well for one, you two can’t take your eyes off one another for more than five seconds. It’s actually quite nauseating. You also haven’t called to check on me in three weeks. Considering that you usually call me every other day...” “I have checked on you. I texted—” “No, Greg texted me.” She laughed. “It’s okay. It’s nice not having to report to my over-protective big brother for a change. “ “Don’t get used to it.” “Trust me, I won’t.” She looked at her watch. “I’m gonna go now. Bring Claire to Memphis this summer okay? My Scrabble tournament is going to be the last week of August. There’s always a blues festival going on if you want to come some other time.” “You’re leaving? Right now? You just got here!” “Yeah...You clearly weren’t paying attention to anything I said over dinner were you?” She shook her head. “I kept asking you two questions and you just kept staring at each other and smiling. You think I want to stick around for another second of that shit?”

“I am so sorr—” “It’s okay. Greg is outside waiting to take me to the airport because my brother is too in love to pay me any attention right now.” I rolled my eyes and helped her out of her chair. “Have a safe flight. Thank you so much for coming.” “I will. I love you.” “Love you too.” I gave her a hug and watched as she left the room. I realized Claire had been gone for quite a while and stood up. I started walking towards the restrooms, but I saw her walking my way. “Where’s Hayley?” she asked. “She was sick of us staring at each other apparently. Are you okay?” “Yeah...It’s just...Ashley and Caroline are driving me crazy about their shared car again...They called me on three-way to ask about letting one of them drive my car tonight.” “You said no?” “Of course I said no. They need to stick together and share what they have.” “Okay... Are you ready to go?” “After you open your presents. Let’s do that first and then—” “I want to open them at home.”

I set the two presents—one sparkling red rectangular box, and one fat silver box—in front of the fireplace, waiting for Claire to sit next to me. “Which one should I open first?” I asked. “The silver one...” “Okay.” I took my time un-wrapping it, unfolding every corner and gently pulling away each strip of tape. I placed each torn sheet in a neat stack and stuck all the tape pieces together. “Why is it taking you so long?” She laughed. “Do you need help un-wrapping it? You’re acting like you’ve never received a birthday present before.” “I haven’t.” Her eyes widened and her face paled. “I’m sorry...I was just joking. I didn’t—” I pulled her close. “You didn’t know. It’s okay.” I peeled the last bit of paper off and flipped over the box. I took the lid off and sucked in a breath once I saw what it was. “I wasn’t sure what to get you since you seem to have everything already,” she said as she pulled the golden sea hooks out of the box. “Since you love yachts so much I figured I’d get you these...They say that sea hooks are—” I knew exactly what sea hooks meant, exactly what they stood for. To someone who didn’t know yachts, they were simply huge golden metal hooks in the shape of an anchor, but I knew better. Every man who owned a yacht had a set of loose sea hooks, and whenever he was seeing someone he loved, someone he couldn’t live without, he was supposed to personalize them and weld them onto the ship’s real anchor. They were a symbol of longevity, a way of saying “I want to be with you.” I looked over them and noticed that she’d already personalized them: Her name was etched alongside the edges in cursive and my name was etched at the bottom. I didn’t know what to say so I simply opened the other present—much faster this time. I laughed once I tore the last sheet of paper off. “I didn’t know they made a Harry Potter version of Monopoly...” “They don’t...” She took the box from my hands. “I did some pretty intense work for Parker Brothers years ago and they owed me one, so I asked them to make a one of kind game just for you. I

know that neither of these gifts is a new car or a–” I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers, wrapping my arms around her tightly, not wanting to let her go. I pulled her down to the carpet and ran my hands across her hips, still exploring her mouth with my tongue—saying everything with kisses that I couldn’t say with words. “Thank you very much,” I whispered once I had to take a breath. “Everything you did today means a lot to me...” I’d never had a birthday party, birthday gifts, anything. My real parents never gave a shit about birthdays and my foster parents only gave me one present per year—on Christmas, and it was usually a used electronic device or a book. After growing up so long without a birthday, I never saw a point in celebrating. I slowly let her go and reached into my back pocket. “I bought something for you too.” I handed her a small jewelry box. “This isn’t an engagement ring is it?” She paled. “I can’t accept or agree to—” “What?” I sat up and laughed. “No. I think I know you much better than that. Open it.” “Can it wait until tomorrow? It’s your birthday and I don’t want to—” “Open. The. Box.” “But—” “Now.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I really don’t want to...”

Chapter 22 Claire “Open the damn box, Claire.” His voice was stern. “I don’t feel like threatening you on my birthday.” “You’re acknowledging that it’s your birthday now?” “Five seconds.” “No.” “No?” He raised his eyebrow. “Are you a parrot?” I tossed the box back to him. “You heard me.” He narrowed his eyes and reached out to grab me, but I jumped up and stepped backwards. He jumped up with ease and smiled his wicked grin. “You always have to do things the hard way, don’t you?” He lunged towards me, but I slipped away. I ran out of the room with him on my heels, dashing down the grand staircase. I rushed through the double corridors, past the parlor, and into the kitchen—hoping to hide in the two-roomed pantry. Before I could slip inside, I felt myself being lifted into the air and tossed over his shoulder. “Next time I won’t give you a head start.” He playfully smacked my ass. He carried me outside to the pool deck and set me down on a plush lounge chair. He reached into his pocket and handed me the ring box again. “Now.” I sighed. I flipped the box open and saw a folded sheet of paper sitting in the ring slot. “A note?” “Read it.” I unfolded it and cleared my throat. “Dear Ms. Gracen, on behalf of Vintage Consolidated Loan Company, we are writing to inform you that the balance on your outstanding mortgage and student loan accounts is officially zero. We are enclosing the history of payments that were recently...” I stopped reading aloud and read the rest to myself. I felt tears forming at the corners of my eyes. “You paid off my house? And my student loans?” I felt like I needed to say it out loud to confirm it. “I should’ve done it sooner,” he said softly. “I—” I was speechless. “Thank you so much...I don’t even know what to—I can’t believe you—” “Now you don’t need to work overtime and you can spend all your extra time with me. This was more so a gift for me than you.” He smiled. “Wasn’t that way better than a proposal?” I laughed and let a few tears fall. “Thank you so much...” “You’re more than welcome, but the next time I give you a gift and you even think about not opening it when I tell you to—” I pressed my lips against his and bit down on his tongue. “If you’ve fulfilled your ‘I-must-makeClaire-do-whatever-I-say’ quota for the day, I would like to end your birthday properly. And by properly, I mean fucking you against this chair until you can’t walk...”

I slid a pair of shades over my eyes and lay back on a fluffy yellow blanket. I held my e-reader in front of my face and continued to read through one of my favorite books—Fahrenheit 451.

When I’d woken up this morning—exhausted from everything Jonathan and I had done last night, he’d suggested that we have a breakfast picnic at the park. I thought we were going to cook the food ourselves and bring it along, but we drove to the park. Shortly after we arrived, trays of Belgian waffles, organic strawberries, bacon, eggs, and toast were delivered from an exclusive restaurant. “Are you planning on reading all day?” He kissed my cheek. “Will that be a problem?” “Not until tonight.” He lay down next to me and took the e-reader from my hands. “You haven’t said much to me all morning. Are you okay?” Why is he so good at noticing stuff like that? “I’m fine.” He rolled on top of me and looked into my eyes. “The truth...” I wish I could tell you...“Nothing’s wrong...I’ve just been thinking lately and I—Okay...I honestly like you a lot, and I know you said that I shouldn’t worry about...” I sighed. “Can I ask you something?” “Whatever you want.” “Why did you want to go on a date with me so badly after we’d already had sex?” He arched his brow. “What do you mean?” “You kept asking me to go out every day and I kept turning you down...I would think that a man would rather accept ‘no-strings-attached’ sex rather than trying to pursue—” “I liked you the first day I saw you. I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen...And there was—and still is, something about you that I couldn’t get over. When you turned me down at the grocery store and at work—not to mention standing me up after I thought you’d said yes, I decided I wouldn’t take no for an answer. The sex was exceptional, but I wanted to get to know you better.” “But you could’ve gotten anyone.” “I wanted you.” He kissed my lips. “Why? You barely knew me back then. You—” “Do you slip into these insecure ruts often?” Is once or twice a week often? “Why?” “Because if you do, I’m clearly not doing my job, and I need to do more to make you understand how much I care about you, how I’m willing to do anything to make you happy.” My heart fluttered. “No, it’s not—I’m not doubting that you care. I just want to be fully prepared for when you finally wake up and realize that you and I aren’t—” “Stop it.” He cupped my face in his hands. He pressed his forehead against mine and whispered. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever. As a matter of fact, you’ll leave me before I leave you.” “Jona—” “I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way so often. I’ll do better.” He kissed me and ran his fingers through my hair. “Did you have any plans for today?” “No...I cleared my whole weekend for your birthday.” He smiled. “In that case, I want to take you somewhere.” He rolled off of me and pulled me to my feet. “Come on.”

I was sitting in the backseat of the town car wearing a black blindfold over my eyes. I couldn’t see anything but darkness, and every time I attempted to take a peek, Jonathan playfully tapped my hand. We’d been riding along for at least an hour and I was getting anxious, excited. I knew wherever he was taking me was going to be amazing.

“Mr. Statham, is this close enough?” Greg asked as the car slowed down. “This is perfect. Thank you.” He made sure the blindfold was still tight and helped me out of the car. He grabbed my hand and we took several steps into the harsh blowing winds. “We’re here...” he said. “Well, almost. We still have another two hours to go before we get there.” “Another two hours? Why did we get out of the car?” He laughed and lifted me up onto what felt like a short stack of steps. Then I felt him holding both of my hands. “Are you ready?” he asked. I nodded excitedly and he slowly moved the blindfold away from my eyes. My heart dropped as soon as I saw what the “surprise” was. I tried to keep myself calm but it was no use. His large private plane was standing a couple hundred feet away: It was a white Citation Sovereign jet—seating capacity for nine, three thousand miles of nonstop mileage, and easily worth eighteen million. I knew that because my girls had built that particular model over and over, because they’d gushed about how it was the top of the line in executive flight travel. I saw the pilot descending from the cabin—waving at us, and I suddenly lost the ability to breathe. I clutched the flag charms on my necklace and my knees buckled underneath me. “Claire?” Jonathan helped me back up. “Claire, what’s wrong? Why are you shaking?” He squeezed my hand, but I snatched it away and shut my eyes. I tried to think about something happy, something positive, but pictures started to flash through my mind, making me remember all the things I wish I could forget: The newspaper stories, the endless media coverage, the crash site photos. My twin sister ’s face. My heart was pounding fast and loud that I could hear it over Jonathan asking what the hell was going on and calling out for help. I tried to convince myself that this was just another nightmare, another dream that I would wake up from in any second. But as I gasped for air, as I tried to head back down the steps and back into the town car, I felt my body hitting the concrete and everything went black.

I blinked my eyes open and realized I was lying in bed at home. The clock on my wall read two o’ clock and my windows were unlatched and open, letting in a warm spring breeze. I turned my head to the right and saw Jonathan eyeing me curiously, holding an ice pack against my shoulder. I tried to give him an assured smile, but every muscle in my body felt weak. “What happened?” I croaked. “You had a panic attack.” He set the ice pack down and caressed my cheek. “You fainted and fell off the platform.” “Oh...”I tried to roll over so I wouldn’t have to see the worry in his eyes, but I couldn’t feel my left foot. I looked down and saw that it was sitting on a stack of pillows, resting underneath two bags of ice. “You sprained your ankle...You’ll need to take those every four hours.” He pointed towards the medicine on my nightstand and moved closer. “You’re scared of planes?” I shook my head and felt tears welling in my eyes. He slipped his hand behind my pillows and helped me to sit up. “Talk to me, Claire...” “I’m beyond scared—I’m terrified...so terrified that I’m scared to pick up my own daughters from the airport...” “Why?”

I sighed. I reached around my neck and felt for the two flag charms, making sure they were right where they were supposed to be. “Have I ever told you that identical twins run in my family? It’s the strangest thing—almost every woman in my family has a set of twins... I cried the first three months after Ashley and Caroline were born because I finally knew what it felt like to be a mother, and I couldn’t fathom how my mother felt when she lost my sister.” He held my hand and stroked my knuckles with his fingertips. “We were only eighteen...We’d been inseparable our whole lives...Everywhere I went, she went. No questions asked, and we liked it that way...We were even going to the same college. I was going to pursue acting and she was going to pursue art. She was naturally good at drawing and designing things...” “We were supposed to be on the same flight. Pittsburgh to North Carolina...We were going to do an early summer scope out of the school so we could check out the dorms before we sent in our living requests...” Her face flashed before my eyes and I didn’t try to wipe my tears away. I kept telling the story, remembering every second like it was yesterday: “We were both sitting at the gate and the agent came over the intercom and said, ‘We need a few people to give up their seats and catch the later flight.’ Neither of us moved because we thought that people in coach didn’t have a choice. But the agent kept saying over and over, ‘We need a few more willing passengers. We’ll give you a free flight. We’ll give you a first class upgrade.’ So, I turned to her and I said, ‘Let’s ask if we can switch flights. We can even get them to let us use their phone and call mom to tell her we’re going to be arriving later.’ She said, ‘No. You’re always telling me what to do, Claire. I’m staying on this flight. Deal with it.’ We’d been...” I paused. “We’d been arguing all day. I swore she’d stolen my favorite purple purse, she swore that she hadn’t. I was frustrated and annoyed, so I told her I didn’t want to sit with her, that I hoped she got lost whenever her plane landed. I got up and changed my ticket, the gate agent thanked me, and that was that... She and I shared a bag of popcorn before it was time for her to go...And then I told her goodbye...” I cleared my throat and sniffled. “It was like an hour later when I was on my plane that they were ordering us all to get off...No one had cell phones back then, so I didn’t know what was going on. I just thought we were switching planes or that our flight had been delayed...” “When I finally got a chance to use the payphone, I called my mom and she was screaming. She was saying ‘Thank god you’re alive! Thank god you weren’t on that plane!’ I asked her what she was talking about and she said that the plane we were scheduled to be on crashed into a small town thirty minutes into the flight...And that the emergency responders were already reporting that there were....” My voice cracked. “That there were no survivors...” “She said, ‘I’m so happy! I thought I’d lost the two of you! Let me speak to your sister...” Heavier tears fell down my face and my throat became dry. “I had to tell her that we didn’t stick together like she’d told us too...That I didn’t make her change her flight like I should have and...” He pulled me close and wiped my tears away with his shirt. “I’m so sorry...” “It was six months before I could walk into our bedroom...” I tugged at my necklace again. “I went through all of her stuff, hugging everything she owned...And then I found this pretty white box under her bed with my name and the words ‘You pick first’ on it. Inside were two charm bracelets she’d made with one flag charm each. One was red and one was white...And they um...When you put them together they read ‘Always Together, Sisters Forever ’ on the back...I thought ten or twenty years would be enough time but there are still triggers here or there and...I’ll never get over it...”

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. He held me until I stopped trembling, until I was able to say sentences without sobs breaking them up. “Do you know what the airline gives you when your family member dies in a plane crash?” I felt him wiping more of my tears away. He shook his head. “Nothing...” “There wasn’t a lawsuit?” “There was...” I sighed. “But it didn’t bring her back so it doesn’t matter...Does it make me a bad mother when I say I hate that my daughters want to be pilots? I absolutely hate it.” “No...” He smoothed my hair. “Do they know about your sister?” “They know she died in a plane crash...They don’t know it was my fault.” “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know it was going to crash.” “Says the man who saved his sister from a burning trailer...It was definitely my fault and I—” “It wasn’t your fault, Claire.” He pulled me close to his chest. “You can’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong in life...What was your sister ’s name?” “Caroline...Caroline Ashley Gracen.” “That’s a really pretty name...” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and kissed my cheek. I wanted to say more, to tell him how Caroline actually hated her name, but I shut my eyes and gave in to the much needed sleep.

Chapter 23 Claire “Your dancing is getting better.” Jonathan smiled as he twirled me around the yacht’s dance floor. “Yours is still questionable.” “It’s because I have a terrible teacher.” He laughed and pulled me into his arms. “Are you still on the fence about being my date to the IPO ball?” I nodded. I knew he wanted me to go with him; he’d been making that fact very clear all week. Yet, it was still a while away and I was nervous about making our relationship public. It seemed like we were the only people at corporate who’d been taking advantage of the invisible fraternization policy, and I knew my coworkers would have something negative to say about it. “I’ll give you until the end of the week to say yes.” He dipped me low to the ground. “I’m not going with anyone else.” “You could always go alone...” He rolled his eyes and pulled me back up. “Let me know when you want Greg to take you shopping for a dress.” He brushed a stray hair away from my face. “I always take an employee as a date to the company’s social functions. No one will suspect anything.” “So, you won’t touch or kiss me while we’re at the party?” “I can’t promise that.” He tilted my chin up and brushed his lips against mine. “You know I don’t care who’s watching.” He traced my lips with his tongue and parted my mouth open, but then he stopped. “Where is the pool?” “He said he had a pool.” “Maybe he lied about it to get us to come.” “How are we supposed to brag to the rest of the squad about being on a luxury yacht that doesn’t have a pool?” He laughed and stepped back as Ashley and Caroline rounded the corner, staring at us. Ashley breathed one of her most dramatic sighs. “You told us that there was a pool, Jonathan. We brought our bikinis and our cameras, but there’s no pool.” “I’ll show you where it is.” He grabbed my hand and motioned for them to follow us. He led us up two stairwells and inside a massive room with walls that were covered in frosted glass. He hit the lights and then he pulled on a small lever—making the hundreds of dark gray panels on the floor slide open to reveal a clear blue pool. “Ugh! How did he expect us to find this?” Caroline shook her head. She and Ashley immediately tossed off their towels and slid into the pool, laughing about the many ways they planned on making their friends jealous. “Would you like to finish your dance lesson now?” he whispered. “I can’t use the pool?” “There’s another one downstairs...” He slipped his arm around my waist. “You can use it after we’re finished.” “Dancing?” “You can call it whatever you want...”

I couldn’t get into Girls’ Night...Not tonight. All I could think about was Jonathan—him kissing me, him holding me, and him making love to me. Ever since he’d said “I’ll do better,” he’d taken things to another level: He came over on the weeknights and hung out with me and my daughters—crushing me at Monopoly, helping them with their model planes, and even cooking for us sometimes. On the weekends, he treated us to full days at sea, bringing along a chef team that prepared whatever we wanted. He insisted on picking me up for work in the mornings, and he’d even managed to get me to eat lunch with him every afternoon. The flowers he had delivered on a daily basis now included small chocolates and sweet little notes that made me blush. And the sex between us—though it’d always been amazingly mind-blowing, was becoming way more passionate and intense. Tonight, he was away at some conference in L.A. and I was missing him—truly missing him, and I was too scared to acknowledge the exact reasoning behind that. “Some men really need to take a class on the proper way to please a woman.” Helen set down her glass. “It’s so sad when they don’t know how. These last few men have forced me to invest in a brand new vibrator. I’m thinking about starting my own website and giving free pointers.” I sighed. “Do you keep track of how many men you’ve been with, or is that completely pointless now?” “I stopped counting at thirty.” “Thirty?” “Or was it forty?” She shrugged. “Men do it all the time. I don’t ever want to be married, so why not?” “You don’t ever want to settle down and—” “Be with one man for the rest of my life? No. I’ve learned from the failure of my parents and all my friends’ marriages. No offense.” “None taken.” “How’s your cougar romance going?” “I’m not a cougar...” I shook my head. “And it’s not a romance. It’s just...dating.” “Exclusive dating?” She laughed. “Yes...Where’s Sandra?” “She’s not coming—something about a last minute date with that hot doctor you set her up with?” “Oh! Well, good for her. I’m glad they’re still going out.” “She said he’s an animal in bed. I can’t believe you passed him up! Then again...” She smiled. “Never mind.” I set my drink down. “What happens when me and Jonathan don’t work out?” “What?” I decided to finally lay my pent-up insecurities on the table. I’d been holding them in for far too long and I wouldn’t dare tell Jonathan. It would just make him become even more wonderful and make me seem insane for even questioning this. “You know we’re not going to last, Helen,” I said. “It’d never work. Everything that attracted him to me was superficial...Once those things wear off and he realizes that he could have someone half my age with half the baggage, it’ll be over...Then what happens? Do I date someone my age because dating a younger man in the first place is a bad idea? Do I date again at all? Or do I become like you and simply have sex with random men whenever I’m lonely?” “Are you deliberately trying to kill my buzz or is this something—” “I’m serious...I can’t talk to anyone else about this. There are some days when I honestly feel insecure about the whole thing.”

“Everyone feels insecure from time to time.” Helen sighed. “It’s normal.” “But this is different. I don’t know how to deal with his—” “Listen to me, Claire. Just stop. You think too much—wayyy too much. You know what you should do right now?” “What?” “Text him and tell him that you miss him.” “Huh?” “Tell him that you miss him.” “I don’t miss him.” I lied. “I saw him a few days ago. Besides, he’s at some conference in L.A.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. If you two work out, great. If not, great. Take it as a learning experience. You don’t have to have a happily ever after with every guy you date. Just date, and for now be honest with yourself. You miss him.” I tossed back a drink and decided to take her advice. I texted him. “I miss you...” My phone vibrated immediately. “Where are you?” “At a bar with Helen.” “Which bar?” “Blackbird.” “Stay there. I’m on my way to get you.” “I thought you were in L.A?” “I am. It’s only a one hour flight (don’t worry) back to San Fran. I’ll see you soon.” “Was that so hard to do?” Helen downed her gin and tonic. “Now, order me a new drink—an extremely stiff one. Your depressing psycho-babble completely wore off the effects of my last one. I didn’t even feel it burn.” We both laughed and filled each other in on what had happened over the past few months: She’d officially been named “The Lawyer of the Year,” and had experienced “the sensations of a lifetime” with one of the other nominees when she’d gone to Vegas. I was telling her about me and Jonathan’s most recent date when I felt my heart speeding up and fluttering against my chest, when I felt my body letting me know that he was somewhere nearby. I turned around to look for him and saw him standing right behind me. “Good evening, Claire.” He grinned. “Hello, Helen.” “Well, that’s my cue.” Helen smiled at us both. “I’ll see you two—” “Are you okay to drive yourself back?” he asked. “Oh, I’m not driving. I’m going to call a cab.” He shook his head. “I’ll have my driver take you home.” “Are you sure?” “Absolutely.” We walked outside where his town car was waiting and Jonathan helped her inside. “Have a good night, Helen. I’ll see you again soon I’m sure.” He shut the door and waited for the car to drive off. “Come on.” He clasped my hand and walked me two blocks down, into a private parking garage. We took the elevator up to the third level and walked over to his car. I was about to head over to the passenger side, but he pushed me against the car and wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing me until I was out of breath. “I missed you too...” he whispered as he continued to make love to my lips. “Where do you want to go?” “What do you mean? I—” He tenderly bit my bottom lip to each syllable. “Where. Do. You. Want. To. Go?” “Your place?”

“That’s forty minutes away...” He moved his kisses down to my collarbone. “Pick somewhere else.” “My place?” “Thirty minutes away...” “A hotel?” “Which one?” “The Ritz Carlton around the corner?” “Good choice.”

Chapter 24 Jonathan “Ahhhhh...” Claire reached up and grabbed fistfuls of my hair. I bent down and kissed her neck, thrusting myself deeper and deeper inside of her. “You’re all I can think about...I can’t concentrate on anything but you...” I breathed heavily. I caressed her breasts and briefly covered her mouth with mine, reveling in the feel of her soft lips. “Tell me you feel the same way...” “I...I...” Her hands moved from my head to my back, and she dug her nails into my bare skin. She tried to slow the tempo by grabbing onto my waist, but I pinned her arms above her head. I took one of her nipples into my mouth, teasingly biting it as I sped up my thrusts. “Tell me.” I bit down on it harder. “Tell me right now...” “I...Yes...Yes...” She shut her eyes and her body writhed underneath mine, climaxing at the exact same second as me. She shook for several seconds, and I let myself slowly fall on top of her. We lay entwined for what felt like forever—gazing into each other ’s eyes, smiling every few seconds, laughing at nothing at all. After we’d checked out of the Ritz Carlton this morning, I’d decided to give her a tour of another one of my yachts—one of the ones I hadn’t sailed in a while. The tour only lasted two minutes though; we never made it past the bedroom. “Am I hurting you?” I felt her trying to move her shoulder. “A little.” She laughed and I rolled off of her. I pulled her into my arms so we were face to face and sighed. “What are you thinking about now?” “Nothing...” “Your eyes give you away all the time.” I smiled. “That’s how I know when you’re lying to me.” “I can talk to you about anything, right?” “Of course you can.” I kissed her. “I don’t want any boundaries between us.” She nodded and lay there silently, not saying another word. “That wasn’t a question that led into another question?” I tried to read her eyes. She laughed. “Not really...I just wanted to know.” “Hmmm. Would you mind going to dinner with me and my mom next weekend?” “You two are on good terms now?” She raised her eyebrow. “I don’t know...I walked out on our last therapy session, so I wouldn’t necessarily say good terms...” “You don’t think you can have dinner without arguing with her?” Not unless you’re there...“I would just feel more comfortable if you came with me. That’s all.” She smiled and moved closer to me. “Okay. I’ll come.”

“If you fuck this dinner up, I will never forgive you.” I drove my car into the turnaround and looked over at my mother. “Do you understand me?” “What are you talking about, Jonathan? And watch how you talk to me. I’m still your mother... How can I possibly mess up a dinner?”

“You’ve messed up everything else in my life. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” She looked hurt. “You’re never going to forgive me for the past are you? Are you ever going to get over it?” I didn’t answer her. I waited for the valet to walk up to my window and handed him the keys. “Let’s go.” The last few therapy sessions we’d had were nothing like the ones we had before; they were brutal. I’d walked out on her three times because I refused to buy into her “I don’t really remember that happening” bullshit. I felt like she was copping out and not being completely honest. The only reason I even agreed to a dinner with her was because the therapist said we needed to try something new. In fact, I almost called the dinner off until Claire encouraged me to go through with it. She thought I needed to give my mother a second chance since this was the longest she’d ever been clean. I walked over to my mother ’s side and helped her out of the car. I linked her arm in mine and walked inside the restaurant. “Mr. Statham,” the hostess said, “your other guest has already arrived. Shall I take you to the table first or to the gallery room?” “The table.” “Right this way.” She led us onto an elevator and up to the top level. She walked us past a packed room of patrons and into an empty room with one table in the center of the floor. My eyes quickly veered towards Claire. She was standing near the windows in a dark gray gown that perfectly accentuated her sexy curves. She must have heard us enter, because she immediately turned around and smiled at me. I walked over to the table and pulled out her chair. “You look stunning tonight.” I kissed the nape of her neck. “Thank you...” She sat down. “I agree.” My mother nodded as I pulled out her chair next. “You’re a vision, sweetheart.” “Thank you very much, Mrs. Statham.” A waiter came over and cleared his throat. “Good evening ladies, Mr. Statham. Would you like to start off with our signature wine for the night, or would like to order something more unique?” “My date and I will be having the signature wine. Mrs. Statham,” I said as I looked at my mother, “will be having your best juice.” I caught her rolling her eyes. “Very well sir.” He sauntered off. I was about to strike up a conversation, but a different waiter came over and set down our drinks —just that quickly. He politely went over the chef’s menu for the night and made suggestions, practically ordering the food for us. When he walked away, I cleared my throat. “How was your day today, mother?” “It was pretty good...They let me run the shop by myself. They’re going to let me choose the new treatments for the windows tomorrow. I already know what kind I want to get.” “What type is that?” Claire asked. “Woven bamboo shades. One of our customers told me that they would make the place look more authentic, so I think I’m going to take the advice.” “Yellow or brown?” Claire raised her eyebrow. “Brown.” My mother sipped her juice. “The walls in the shop are all painted in earth tones so it’ll match better.” I put my arm around Claire’s shoulders. “I guess I need to start paying attention to those HGTV shows...”

“That makes two of us.” My mother shook her head. “So Claire, what do you do at Statham Industries?” “I’m a marketing director. I oversee the slogans and artwork for promotional campaigns.” “Did you do any work for the sPhone blue? Those commercials are beyond beautiful.” I smiled. “She did.” I listened as my mother talked about her inability to work anything my company produced, as she and Claire talked about their favorite books; I’d somehow forgotten that my mother was a huge literature fan before she got hooked on drugs. The waiters discreetly refilled our glasses and brought out the courses one by one. I was in the middle of tasting the chef’s mushroom risotto when I noticed Claire scrolling away on her phone. “Who are you texting?” “Ashley and Caroline...I swear they think every time I go out is an opportunity to borrow my car...I’m just going to give in and buy them separate cars for their birthday. They do deserve it...” “I’ll help you pick the cars out.” I squeezed her hand. And I’ll buy them... “You have daughters?” My mother smiled. She seemed like she was actually trying to make this dinner go smoothly. “How old are they?” “They’re sixteen...” “Wow, twins? I have a friend in my therapy group with twins. She swears they’re a handful, but I think it’s because they’re fraternal. A boy and a girl going through puberty at the same time? That’s got to be rough.” We all laughed. The hostess from downstairs walked over to our table. “Excuse me,” she said. “I don’t mean to interrupt your dinner, but the gallery room is only going to be open for one more hour. Would you like to take a tour now? In keeping with the artist’s vision, the women start on one side of the gallery and the men start on the other. It enhances the experience.” “I’d love to.” My mother stood up. “What about you, Claire?” “Yeah, it sounds great. I’ll come right after I finish my dessert.” She smiled. “Do you want me to wait for you?” “No, you don’t have to.” Claire shook her head. “I’ll be down in five minutes max.” My mom looked at me with a glance that said “I’m really trying here...” and I smiled at her. I was shocked at how well she’d behaved herself tonight; I didn’t think things could have gone any better. As the hostess escorted my mom downstairs, I looked over at Claire. “Thank you so much for coming, tonight. It really means a lot to me.” “You’re more than welcome. I think you two are going to be okay in the long run.” “Let’s hope so. Hurry up and finish your dessert. I want us to see the gallery.” “It’s not like we can see it together. The hostess just said—” “I don’t give a damn about what enhances the experience...” I brought her head close to mine and whispered in her ear. “Part of the exhibit is a pitch black room and I’m going to experience that with you.”

I moved Claire’s dress back over her shoulders and gave her one last kiss. We walked through the rest of the exhibit hand in hand—leaning on one another, discussing what we did and didn’t like. Once we reached the last piece, a huge plastic “X” covered in polka dots and graffiti, I spotted my mother by the doors. She walked over and reached for Claire’s hand. “It was a pleasure getting to know you better tonight, honey. Maybe next week we could all do it again?” Claire shook her hand and nodded. “Definitely. That’d be great.”

“Greg is going to take me home, Jonathan. I texted him while we were eating dinner. I figured you and Claire may want to spend more time together tonight.” Who is this woman and where the hell is my real mother? “Thank you.” I gave her a hug and whispered, “Thank you so much. I’m sorry for what I said earlier in the car.” I let her go and watched her walk outside to the town car. As soon as the car pulled off, I pulled Claire into my arms and kissed her like my life depended on it—holding her body tightly against mine, slipping my tongue deeper into her mouth each time she moaned. “Come home with me tonight.”

Chapter 25 Claire I was breaking up with Jonathan. Today. I couldn’t take this shit anymore. It was way too much and I was tired of crying about it alone. I needed to end this affair for my own sanity—for my health. I knew that he and I were bound to break up down the line anyway, so as amazing as our relationship had been, it was time to cut him off. He had no idea what I’d been going through over the past few weeks, and I wasn’t going to tell him. He’d put the pieces together with time, and by then he’d have hopefully found someone who was a much better match. I’d been contemplating this for a while, but once I cried myself to sleep last night while lying in his arms, I knew that letting him go was what I needed to do. I didn’t eat lunch with him this afternoon, and I answered all of his sweet random texts with a “We’re still really busy down here, but I promise I’ll come see you later.” I didn’t bother opening any of the notes on his latest flower and chocolate deliveries either; I didn’t want to back out of this. I waited until the end of the workday, rehearsing my speech over and over, bracing myself for his reaction. As soon as my clock struck six and the “Goodbye Jonathan” alarm on my cell phone sounded, I took the elevator up to his office. “Good afternoon.” I stopped at his secretary’s desk and cleared my throat. “Is Mr. Statham available right now?” “Miss Gracen,” she said, smiling, “you know as well as I do that he’s always available for you.” My heart sank. “I know, but is he busy with another client? I don’t want to interrupt anything important...” “Oh, no. Not at all. His last appointment ended over an hour ago.” She picked up her phone. “Mr. Statham? Miss Gracen is here to see you.” She motioned for me to head inside. I exhaled and shut my eyes before twisting the doorknob. Stay focused and make it quick... Don’t make a scene and don’t cry. Whatever you do, don’t cry... The moment I stepped inside, he swept me into his arms and kissed me. “You’re the best part of my day.” He carried me over to his desk and set me down. “Are you alright? You look sick...” I think we need to break up. I think we need to break up. Say it! “I’m fine.” “Hmmm.” He walked over to his cabinet and grabbed a bottle of water. He handed it to me and put his hand on my forehead like he was checking for a fever. “You sure you’re okay?” I nodded. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a rectangular jewelry box. “I meant to give it to you yesterday, but the board meeting lasted forever and I forgot all about it. I want you to open it with me later.” “I can’t accept this...” He rolled his eyes and placed it into my purse. He moved behind his desk and started packing his briefcase. “Are we still on for dinner tonight? Ashley and Caroline mentioned wanting to make apple pie together so—” “I think we should break up.” His head shot up. “What?”

I felt a lump rising up my throat and forced it back down. “I don’t want to be with you anymore...” I swallowed and tried to keep my tears at bay. I thought he was going to say something—anything, but there was only silence. Deafening silence. He narrowed his eyes and strolled over to me, making me step back against a wall. “Is this some type of joke?” He hissed. “Because it better be...” “It’s not a joke.” My voice was a whisper. “I can’t do this to myself anymore...” “What? Where the fuck is this coming from?” I ignored his question. I started reciting the speech I’d written earlier. “I think it’s best if you and I go our separate ways, Jonathan. I know it may be hard for you to understand why right now, but we weren’t going to make it too much longer anyway. I’m grateful for everything you’ve—” “Stop talking.” He pressed his chest against mine and looked directly into my eyes, forcing my body to react against my will. “You’re not making any sense and you know it...” He placed a firm hand at the small of my back and used his other hand to run his fingers through my hair. He whispered, “You’re just having a rough day...Let me fix it.” I almost leaned in and kissed him, almost gave in to the warmth that was coursing through my veins, but I jerked my head to the side and pushed him away. He stared at me for a long time—half confused, half aroused, and I knew I was going to have to go with the worst possible approach if I really wanted to end this. “Claire...” He sighed. “I’m not sure what happened to you today, but you seem out of it. Whatever it is, let me know so I can make it better...Go sit on the couch so we can—” “I. Don’t. Want. You. Anymore. What part of that don’t you understand, Jonathan? How many times do you need me to repeat it?” His eyes darkened and he took a step forward. “Is this your attempt to initiate angry sex? Because I’m seconds away from fucking some sense into you.” “It’s. Over.” I felt my heart breaking, but I kept going. “You and I don’t belong together and I’m tired of pretending like we do. As much as I’d love to continue this fucking fantasy, I need to get back to reality. And my reality doesn’t include you. The past months were fun, but I’m done with this and I’m done with you.” I made a beeline for the door and twisted the doorknob, but he grabbed me by my shoulders and spun me around. His eyes were blazing with fury, but he kept his voice soft. “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me where the fuck this is coming from.” “I just told you where...” “Bullshit, Claire. We were in bed twelve hours ago and you weren’t raving like a damn lunatic then. I want the truth.” He paused, and then he lowered his voice. “Just tell me what’s going on...Have you met someone else?” “What? No. I—” “Then what’s the problem? And what makes you think I’m going to just let you go? You think you’re going to walk out that door and I’m not going to follow you?” “Jonathan, please lis—” “You won’t make it down the hall.” I knew I wasn’t making any sense, but I had to do this in any way that I could. “What we have is impossible...I think you’ve known that from the beginning because—” “No. I haven’t. I—” “Let me finish...” I felt him clasping my hands in his and I almost broke down. “As crazy as this may sound, the feelings I have for you are feelings that I’ve never felt for anyone else—not even my ex-husband...” I jerked my head away as he leaned in to kiss me. “But I recently realized that...It’s hard for me to explain but—”

“Try me.” My voice cracked. “I knew from the moment that I started dating you that this was going to end very badly for me.” “It doesn’t have to end at all.” “It doesn’t have to continue either. I don’t want to—” He forced his lips onto mine and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe, murmuring against my mouth. “I love you, Claire...And I need you...Stop acting like this...” I broke away, panting, making him look more confused than ever. “This is only the second serious relationship I’ve been in throughout my entire life and I think that’s part of the problem...When I was married to Ryan, he used to—” “Your ex-husband is an asshole who never fucking deserved you.” His face turned red. “Don’t you dare compare me to him.” “My point was that—” “That you don’t want to be happy.” He dropped my hands. “That me loving you doesn’t matter because you don’t love me. And I was okay with that, because I could wait. Because I know you’re stubborn and everything in your world is black or white, right or wrong, appropriate or inappropriate. Fine. I get that. But you must not have been paying attention to how things operate in my world, because you’re out of your damn mind if you think that weak ass excuse you just gave me justifies a break up.” He brushed a hand against my cheek and softened his tone. “I’ll be at your house at seven tonight. After dinner, you and I can have a real discussion about what’s been going on with you. Whatever it is, we can—” “I thought you said you’d do anything to make me happy.” “I did. And I meant that.” He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. “Whatever you want me to—” “Let me go. And don’t follow me.” He sucked in a breath and clenched his jaw. “No.” “That’s what I want...” I murmured, not sure if he’d even heard me. “If you had any idea what I felt for you... If you could feel exactly how much you mean to me...” He paused and I saw the veins in his neck begin to swell. “You wouldn’t dare ask me to do that...” I stared at him for several seconds, wanting to say “You’re right...Let’s just forget this ever happened and make love to each other,” but I couldn’t do it. “You letting me go and leaving me alone would make me happy.” I rushed the words out of mouth, trying not to notice the pained expression on his face. My bottom lip was quivering, and even though I’d been trying my hardest to hold back tears, I felt a few of them slipping down my cheeks. “Is that what you really want?” His heartbroken eyes stared into mine and his voice sounded hoarse. “For us to be over? Just like that?” “Yes.” He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. For the first time since I’d known him, he didn’t look like he was calm and in control; he looked completely powerless. He reached around me and twisted the doorknob, slowly pulling the door open, looking at me like I’d just crushed his soul. “Bye.” “I’m so sorry, Jonathan...I just think that—” “Bye.” I swallowed. I turned away from him and rushed down the hall, onto an open elevator. I pressed “lobby” and prayed that the doors would shut as soon as possible, that he wouldn’t follow me and squeeze in at the last moment.

He didn’t. I was free.

Chapter 25.5 Claire Eight weeks ago... I walked into Dutchman’s, a small gift shop on the eastern docks, and followed Ashley and Caroline around. They’d insisted on coming with me to help pick out a birthday present for Jonathan, even though they hadn’t met him yet. We’d been shopping up and down the pier all day, but we hadn’t had much luck. “If you would let us meet whoever this guy is, this would be a whole lot easier.” Ashley picked up a plastic fish and smiled. “Does he like fish?” “A hundred boxes of sardines, maybe?” Caroline shrugged. Ugh...“I’ll take a look around...” I walked towards the back of the store and stopped once I caught a view of the ocean from the windows. “Breathtaking isn’t it?” An older brunette stood next to me and smiled. She was dressed in an allwhite suit that perfectly complemented her thin frame, and her hair was neatly swept into a high bun. Her eyes were stark blue with light wisps of gray, and they looked slightly familiar for some reason. “Very...” I said. “What do you do when it rains though?” I noticed that the window was broken and the coverings desperately needed to be replaced. “Well, we’re getting a brand new window next week, but as far as the coverings go...I don’t know. We still want people to see the view, rain or shine.” “You should get bamboo shades—not the yellow ones because they’ll fade after six months. Get the brown ones with the smooth finish; it’ll look more authentic and bring out the earth tones in this room.” Her eyes sparkled and she reached out to shake my hand. “I’m Denise.” “Claire.” “Well Claire, I was thinking more along the lines of the basic, plastic white blinds because they’re dirt cheap, but I’ll keep that in mind if this place ever makes a profit.” She laughed. “May I help you with something?” “I’m looking for a birthday gift for someone I’m dating and I’m not sure what to get him...” “I take it that this man loves yachts?” I nodded. “Come over here to the front then, honey.” She led me to the counter. “Now, there are many things you could get a man who loves yachts, but if he knows his stuff, you have to get it right. How serious are you two?” I blushed. “I don’t know... I—” “So, pretty serious.” She smiled. “I have just the thing for that.” She disappeared into a side room for several minutes and came back with a pretty brown box, sliding it to me. “This is what you want.” “Mini metal anchors?” She burst into laughter. “No, dear. These are sea hooks. They symbolize that you’re in it for the long haul, that you are—figuratively speaking, anchoring his ship. You get them personalized however you want, and if he knows his yachts like he’s supposed to, he’ll have the hooks welded onto his ship’s real anchor. This will be perfect.”

I rummaged through the box of hooks and pulled out a few golden ones, running my hands along their pointy ends. “I’ll take them.” “You’ll take what?” “What are those things, mom?” “You’re getting your boyfriend toy anchors?” “What type of guy is this?” Denise shook her head. “There’s a logic behind it girls, I promise. How would you like them personalized, Claire?” “Well...How about my name on the bottom of the hooks and his name on the side corners?” “Sounds great.” She took a pen from behind her ear and wrote on a pad. “And what is your boyfriend’s name?” “Jonathan.” “Oh! I have a son named Jonathan. It’s a great name!” She laughed. “Write down your number so I can call you when they’re ready, okay? And trust me, he’ll love them.”

Six weeks ago I stepped off the elevator and walked over to Jonathan’s secretary. “Good afternoon, Angela. Is Mr. Statham available?” She looked at me with a “Why are you even asking me that” expression and picked up her phone. “Mr. Statham? I have...” She rolled her eyes. “It’s Miss Gracen, sir...Right away. You can go in now, Miss Gracen.” “Thank you.” I smoothed my navy blue dress and opened the door, slowly walking inside. As soon as Jonathan’s eyes met mine, I smiled and felt butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. “Good afternoon.” He walked over and kissed me on the cheek. “You look amazing...” He led me over to the older brunette I’d seen weeks ago at Dutchman’s. “This is my mother, Denise Statham. And mother, this is—” “Claire.” She smiled and reached out for my hand. I was about to say, ‘It’s nice seeing you again,’ but she said, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” I guessed he’d told her about me and she probably didn’t remember me ever being in her shop. “You’re absolutely gorgeous...” she said. “Jonathan’s very lucky to have you.” “Thank you, Mrs. Statham.” “I’ll see you next week, son.” She hugged Jonathan and walked out of the office. As soon as he heard the ping of the elevator, he pulled me into his arms. “Is something wrong? Are you sick? It must be something fatal if you came up here during the hours when people might actually see you.” I rolled my eyes. “We just wrapped up the sTablet so Mr. Barnes is letting us go home early. My phone died so I figured I’d come tell you that before you thought I was ignoring you.” “Good decision. I would take you out to lunch to celebrate, but I’m booked with meetings until six. Dinner? There’s a new bistro down at—” “Mr. Statham? I hate to bother you again, but Miss Griffin is here with an emergency.” Angela’s voice came over the intercom. “She says it can’t wait another second.” He sighed and stepped back. “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.” He pulled out a chair for me and walked out of the room. I leaned back in the chair and shut my eyes. I was thrilled to be done with the strenuous sTablet campaign and I couldn’t wait to move on to something much easier: the sPhone red. I stretched my legs out and heard the jangling of keys. I opened my eyes and saw Denise walking back into the room.

“I’m sorry, Jonathan. I forgot my—” She stopped. “Where’s Jonathan?” “He left for an emergency.” “Hmmm.” She walked over to the couch and picked up a pair of glasses. “Tell me something, Claire...How old are you?” “Forty...” Her eyes widened and she tilted her head to the side. “Well, now I know the true meaning of ‘looks can be deceiving’...Is my Jonathan the Jonathan you bought those sea hooks for?” Clearly... “Yes.” “Well, between me and you, I wouldn’t waste my time giving those to him. They don’t stand for short-term relationships.” “Excuse me?” She sighed. “When his friend Vanessa told me that his girlfriend was a forty year old with two kids I didn’t believe it...I thought to myself, ‘No, Jonathan would never date someone who was that much older than him. He knows better.’ I even wondered what I would say to this woman if I ever had the chance to meet her... And I think my exact words were fuck off.” What? My mind went blank. “Whatever is going on between the two of you isn’t going to last another season and you know it.” She hissed. “What young, attractive billionaire wants to live his life with an aging woman and her two teenaged kids? In what world is that happily ever after possible?” I wasn’t sure what it was about this woman, but she was scaring the living shit out of me and I couldn’t come up with anything to say. “I’ve seen this all before, Claire.” She narrowed her icy blue eyes at me. “Divorced woman with kids wants to start her life over and decides to go for the younger man this time around. The rehab center is full of those types...The older woman thinks it’s exciting and new; that she’s one of the lucky ones and it’ll last forever, but it won’t—especially not with someone like Jonathan. He’s used to dating supermodels and actresses who are younger than him, not thirsty cougars who want to trick him into thinking he’s in love so they can get his money.” “Mrs. Statham, I’m not—” “And before you think otherwise about the way this so-called “relationship” you two have is going to end, let me help you figure it out: He’ll probably never meet your daughters because he’s only into you for sex. Or if he has met them, it was only to put on a show and act like he cares when he really doesn’t. But, oh...What’s this?” She gave me a sarcastic frown. “He hasn’t met them has he?” My poker face was failing me. I could feel a look of sadness sliding onto my cheeks. She smiled. “Hasn’t even asked to, huh? Poor cougar Claire...That’s actually not shocking at all, but it must be quite disheartening for you. Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” “Mrs. Statham—” “Us middle-aged people don’t have to call each other by our formal titles, Claire. You should be calling me Denise. Then again, you shouldn’t really be around in the first place, so—” “I don’t think antagonizing me will get you any closer to Jonathan.” I said as firmly as I could. “You’re right. Getting rid of you will.” I rolled my eyes. I was going to tell Jonathan about this little encounter as soon as he walked back into the room. Denise shook her head and turned away, but then she spun back around. “By the way, if you even think about telling him about this—if you repeat any of what I said to you, I’ll make sure you regret it.” “Do your worst.” My personality was finally re-surfacing.

She laughed. “Don’t underestimate me, Claire. You’d be amazed at what types of people end up in rehab: Former judges, celebrities, and my favorite—ousted news reporters who are always looking for the right story to get their jobs back.” “You don’t have anything on me.” “I don’t. But there’s someone on the company board here who does. You must have really pissed her off because she’s been crafting this little story for a while...Remember, it doesn’t have to be true, it just has to look true. So, think about that before you open your mouth. In the meantime, figure out a quick way—a two week way, to break up with my gullible son before I do it for you.” She slid her glasses over her eyes and walked out of the room. I sat back in my chair and thought long and hard about what she could possibly have on me. I’d never been arrested, never been to rehab, never done anything that would scare me if it was brought to the light. “I’m so sorry about that.” Jonathan walked back into the room. He pulled me out of my chair and smiled. “What was I saying before?” “Dinner...” I murmured. I wasn’t going to go. I needed to use tonight to think about what his mother had said to me, to make sure she didn’t have anything that could hurt me. I figured I’d use the same “time with my daughters” line since he always bought that. “Right. There’s a new restaurant down at Fisherman’s Wharf and I’d love to—” “Rain check? I promised the girls that I would make pasta tonight. Maybe we can—” “I like pasta.” “Oh. Well, I’ll bring the leftovers to work tomorrow. Do you want me to pack parmesan cheese with—” “I can’t come over and have dinner with you and your family?” What? “Um...” “Um?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “What type of answer is that?” “You want to meet my daughters?” “Do they know I exist?” I nodded. “Then what’s the problem?” “Nothing...” I decided that his mother was full of shit. “Dinner is at seven.”

Jonathan’s Birthday I gazed into Jonathan eyes as he gazed back into mine. We were sitting at a table in Sierra Mar— sharing our own special silence, talking without saying a word. Even though Hayley was sitting across from us, it felt like we were the only people in the room. I heard her asking me questions—“Have you always lived in San Fran?” “Are your daughters coming here with us tonight?” “How did you manage to keep this dinner a secret from my brother all this time?”—but all I could say in return was “Not always,” “Not tonight,” and “Umm hmm.” I couldn’t focus on anything else but the beautiful man sitting next to me. I was still entranced by the hour long “scenic route” we’d taken before we came to dinner, wishing that it hadn’t come to an end. “Excuse me.” A waitress touched my shoulder, snapping me out of my trance. She placed a three layer cupcake in the center of the table and struck a match that made the starry sparklers dance in lively flames. “Happy Birthday, Jonathan.” I smiled. “Are you going to blow out the candles or are you going to wait until your cake catches fire?”

Hayley shook his shoulder. “Hello!” “What?” He took his eyes off me and looked down at the cupcake in awe. He blew out the candles in one breath and looked at me again. “I didn’t know they served cupcakes here...” “They don’t...But when you tell them your date is Jonathan Statham they’ll make whatever you want.” “Is that so?” He smiled even wider. I felt my phone vibrating on my lap and looked at the screen: Ashley. “Would you two please excuse me for a minute?” I looked back and forth between the two of them. “I need to take this call.” “Of course.” Jonathan helped me out of my chair and kissed my cheek before I headed to the bathroom. “Yes, Ashley?” I shut the door. “Is something wrong?” “Caroline has the car tonight. She’s going to be out until ten with the junior varsity squad...” “And?” “I want to get some pizza.” “Have it delivered.” “With my friends! Can I please use your car tonight? I promise I won’t wreck it or do anything—” “No, Ashley. We’ve been through this over and over. It’s up to you two to work out how to share that car. Mine is off limits. Forever.” “Ugh! Fine!” She hung up. My phone rang again and I knew it was Ashley. She always hung up in my face and called right back to apologize—and beg to use my car again. “I accept your apology, Ashley.” I held the phone up to my ear. “The answer is still no. And just in case you’re wondering, I did give Jonathan that card that you and Caroline—” “Oh, that’s right.” Denise’s raspy voice made me stop talking. “You have daughters...” “What do you want, Mrs. Statham?” “I’ve told you about formalities. They’re not necessary. Is there a reason why you didn’t invite me to my son’s birthday dinner tonight?” Because you’re a bitch... “No, but he doesn’t seem to be missing your presence.” “Let me speak to him.” “Call him yourself.” I hung up. My phone rang again and I saw her number on my screen. I knew that I shouldn’t answer it, that I should send her straight to voicemail like I’d been doing for the past few days, but I picked up anyway. “Yes?” I answered. “It’s rude to hang up on your boyfriend’s mother. Someone your age should know that. Did you get my package yesterday? I never received a ‘thank you’ note.” I didn’t answer. I bit down on my lip to prevent myself from saying the filthiest words my mouth could manage. I’d received her “package” at my house yesterday afternoon. It was a beautiful silky red box with pink and purple hearts sewn onto the fabric, with my name etched in glittery black cursive on all four sides. I’d sat down on my couch with it, smiling at how detailed it was—thinking that it was another well-thought gift from Jonathan. But as soon as I opened it, I realized that wasn’t the case. Inside was a sheet of paper: a record of a canceled consultation appointment from a Dr. Tate Robinson I’d made four years ago. He specialized in vaginal rejuvenation surgery, and at the time, I

thought that was what I needed to feel young again, but I canceled it once I started going to Sandra’s practice for therapy. Underneath that paper were more papers—more canceled consultations from a Botox specialist, a face lift specialist, and a skin toning specialist. They were all things I thought I needed when I first moved to San Fran to start over, things I thought I needed because my self-esteem was at an all-time low. “You definitely made the right choice in canceling those appointments.” She laughed. “You don’t need any of that stuff—not now anyway. But a few years down the line...Well, it’ll be a different story, and I have a doctor that I can recommend. He does it all—he’s even managed to come up with a process that will delay gray hair from coming in for another ten years. Would you like me to—” “I would like for you to stop playing these childish ass games with me, Denise. They’re not working.” “They’re not? Should I start focusing on your past then? Should I mention your twin sister Caroline? How she might’ve made it if you hadn’t been so stupid, like you’re being right now.” “What did you just say?” My blood began to boil. “I never stutter, Claire. It was very smart of your family to cover up the fact that you switched your flight at the last minute. I can’t imagine what type of sob story the media would have concocted out of that one. I almost missed it when I was looking over all those old articles. It’s like the airline practically buried everything about that crash. I guess it’s a good thing that newspapers weren’t digital in 1991. It makes it harder to find certain things...Of course, the private investigator found it anyway and put everything together for me.” She’s investigating me? “Mrs. Statham, I’m going to say this one time as politely as I can: Leave me the fuck alone. I haven’t done anything to—” “I won’t stop until you stop—until you realize that what you’re doing is wrong—taking advantage of someone younger than you to boost what shredded sense of self you have. You got married at what? Twenty one? Right after you graduated college? And unfortunately your marriage failed. Miserably. So now you want to suck up someone else’s youth knowing damn well that you don’t expect to be there for the long run, that as soon as someone your age or older comes along and seems more secure, you’ll be leaving my son in the cold with wasted time and a scheme to take his money. How fair is that?” “Don’t call my phone anymore. I’m not going to—” “How would you feel if your sixteen year old daughters were dating someone eleven years older than them? Would you stand by and say nothing? Let them continue doing it because they’re too fucking gullible to realize a pedophile when they see one? Or would you be telling the pitiful excuse for a man to move the fuck on like I’m telling you to right now?” “That’s not the same and I’d appreciate it if you just—” “Ha! Yes it is!” She snorted. “Tell me something. Do you use that mail-ordered anti-wrinkle cream every day? It’s called Age-Away, right? Is it working well for you?” I hung up and powered my phone off. I sat down on the vanity’s stool and took several deep breaths. I hadn’t told Jonathan about my sister Caroline—hadn’t even planned to, but hearing her name come out of Denise’s mouth made me sick to my stomach. I knew that I shouldn’t mention this latest conversation to Jonathan since it was his birthday, but as soon as the right time came, we were going to have to talk. Regardless of what she had on me, I knew he was way more powerful than she was; he’d definitely put an immediate stop to it, especially since their last few therapy sessions hadn’t ended well.

I took another deep breath and exhaled, standing up to glance at myself. I forced myself to smile and silently repeated my mantra. You don’t look your age...You don’t look your age... I stepped outside the bathroom and saw Jonathan heading my way, looking as if he knew something was wrong. I looked over at the table and realized his sister wasn’t there. “Where’s Hayley?” “She was sick of us staring at each other apparently. Are you okay?” “Yeah...It’s just...” It’s his birthday...Lie, Claire. Lie... “Ashley and Caroline are driving me crazy about their shared car again...They called me on three-way to ask about letting them drive my car tonight.” “You said no?” “Of course I said no. They need to stick together and share what they have.” “Okay... Are you ready to go?” “After you open your presents. Let’s do that first and then—” “I want to open them at home.” He signaled to the waiter that we were leaving and picked up his gifts. “You sure you’re okay?” I nodded and placed my hand in his as we walked to the town car. I slipped inside and saw Hayley sitting on the side seats. “I thought you left!” I leaned over the seat and hugged her. “He said we ran you away.” “Without telling you goodbye? How rude would that be?” She laughed. “I just needed to have a few minutes away from you two. Your lovebird gazes are quite sickening. Could you please hold off on the PDA until Greg drops me off? I want to keep my food down.” I blushed. “I’m sorry...” “Sure you are. I had a great time, but don’t invite me to anything else unless I have someone to talk to.” “She’ll invite our mother next time.” Jonathan slid in and shut the door. “Please don’t.” Hayley snarled. “I want to enjoy dinner.” Jonathan kissed my cheek and pulled me into his lap. “I think she really is crazy...She made need some one-on-one professional help. I’ve been seeing a different side of her in our latest therapy sessions. It’s like something’s really bothering her.” If only you knew...

Four weeks ago I looked over Denise’s latest email and rolled my eyes. She’d created another fake account to send me news articles about cougars. This most recent article was about a Hollywood couple who was going through a tumultuous divorce: The actress was fifty and the actor was thirty five. All the critics were saying “Of course it wouldn’t last,” “It was destined to fail,” and “That’s what she gets for trying to land a younger man.” In the subject line, she’d typed, “If she was famous, rich, and beautiful and couldn’t make it work, what makes you think it’ll work for you?” “Rita, could you please have IT block another email address for me?” I buzzed her. “I’m forwarding it to you now.” “Yes ma’am. Oh, and there was another delivery for you today. Would you like me to bring it in now?” “Is it a box?” “No, it’s wine and two more vases of flowers from your over the top secret admirer.” She

laughed. “Do you know if he has any friends?” “I’ll ask him. You can bring it in.” As soon as I hung up the phone, she walked in with a large bottle of wine and two beautiful vases of pink flowers. The wine was one of my favorite reds—a vintage merlot that was over thirty years old. And like always, my name was etched onto the flowers’ crystal container with the words “Someone very special to me” right underneath. I pulled the small white envelope from the stems and opened it: Claire, I’m looking forward to spending time with you, Caroline, and Ashley this afternoon. Make sure you tell them that there’s a pool onboard. Jonathan PS—Come to my office after your next meeting. PSS—Leave your panties. I laughed and opened the other envelope that was attached to the wine bottle: Claire, Wine is one of few things in life that age well over time. Some would even argue that the longer they age, the better they taste. Some of the best wines can last for decades if they’re stored properly and kept in a chill, dark place. However, even the best aged wines don’t last longer than a day once they’re uncorked and exposed to the air. It’s their Kryptonite; it’s what makes them realize how old they really are. This Merlot was bottled in your birth year—forty years ago. I uncorked it for you yesterday, so it doesn’t have much time left. Enjoy! Of course she didn’t sign it... I ripped the notecard into pieces and tossed them into the trash. I completely regretted encouraging Jonathan to give her a second chance now; she was clearly replacing her normal “relapse drug time” with ways to hurt me. And to be honest, with each passing day it was working more and more. No matter how many times Jonathan told me I was beautiful, no matter how many times he made love to me and told me I was perfect, one mean text, nasty voicemail, or email from Denise made me succumb to my stubborn insecurities.

Two weeks ago The waves of the ocean slapped up against the windows of his bedroom, and the yacht slowly rocked back and forth. He’d just made love to me for the second time that morning, and I was trying to pull myself back down to reality, trying to put the images of our amazing sex in the back of my mind and tell him about his mother; her antics were getting out of hand. “What are you thinking about now?” He pulled me into his arms so we were face to face. “Nothing...” He traced my lips with his fingertips and smiled. “Your eyes give you away all the time. That’s how I know when you’re lying to me.” “I can talk to you about anything, right?” “Of course you can.” He kissed me. “I don’t want any boundaries between us.” How do I say, “Your mother is a bitch and I want you to keep her the hell away from me?” Do I say it outright? Is there a lead in sentence—What can I—

“That wasn’t a question that led into another question?” He raised his eyebrow. “Not really...I just wanted to know.” I closed the small gap between us and ran my fingers through his thick hair, smiling at him as he smiled back at me. From the look in his eyes I could tell that he wasn’t buying my “I just wanted to know” excuse; he knew something was off. I sighed. It’s now or never, Claire. Just tell him...One...Two...Thr— “Would you mind going to dinner with me and my mom next weekend?” he asked. WHAT! “You two are on good terms now?” I tried to keep the shock out of my voice. “I don’t know...I walked out on our last therapy session, so I wouldn’t necessarily say good terms...” “You don’t think you can have dinner without arguing with her?” Please don’t ask me do this... “I would just feel more comfortable if you came with me.” He gazed into my eyes, giving me a look that screamed “Please say yes” and kissed me again. “That’s all.” “Okay. I’ll come.”

Last Friday I scrolled through another one of Denise’s four page text-rants and vowed to have my number changed. She’d been texting me nonsense all day: old pictures of Jonathan with his ex-supermodel girlfriends, photo-shopped pictures of me with gray hair—sitting in a wheelchair as he pushed me, and links to articles about “How Not to Deal with a Mid-Life Crisis.” The last thing I wanted to do tonight was sit at a table with her, putting on a show like she and I hadn’t been speaking over the past few weeks. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t going to be fake at all; I was going to let Jonathan to see her for exactly who she was. I shut down my computer and started putting my things away, wishing that I could fast forward to two weeks from now. I’d been debating whether Jonathan and I should take a break, whether we should end our affair now before the cold reality set in months later. “Miss Gracen?” Rita called me over the intercom. “Your four o’ clock appointment is here. I’m letting her in now. Mr. Barnes wants me to help him with the intern meeting upstairs.” I don’t have a four o’ clock... “I told you I was going home early today. Remember? I don’t have a —” Denise walked into my office and shut the door. She sat down in front of my desk and smiled, sliding a bright yellow box towards me. I didn’t say anything. I kept putting my things away. I figured I’d let her sit there all day if she wanted to. I even considered running out of my office and locking her inside for the night. “Are you going to address me?” she asked. “Hello?” Beta team’s files in the red folder...The notes for Mr. Barnes in the yellow folder...I need to reorganize last Thursday’s markups for the art department...Where are my— “Claire?” She cleared her throat. “I want you to know that none of what I’ve said to you over the past few weeks is personal. It’s simply me trying to be the best mother I can be.” “It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think? He needed you when he was nine—not twenty nine.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not the monster he makes me out to be. And you don’t know a damn thing about what was happening when he was nine—except the fact that you were twenty years old back then so—” “Get the fuck out of my office or I’ll call security.” “Touchy today, are we?” I picked up my phone and hit seven.

She stood up and stepped back towards the door. “I was just coming by to drop off that gift. You can think of it as an early dinner present. I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight... This should be fun.” She gave me an evil smile and it took everything I had not to jump over my desk and beat her into the ground. The door slammed shut and I sank down in my chair. I didn’t even bother opening the box. I tossed it into the trash and hit nine to cancel the security call. I couldn’t believe I’d actually talked Jonathan out of canceling dinner tonight. I’d told him that he and his mom needed to keep trying to work things out, that I would be there for him the entire time. What the hell was I thinking? “Claire?” Jonathan burst into my office with two security guards. “What’s the problem?” “Huh?” “You called security...” “Oh, right...” I watched as his guards walked around my office, opening and closing the connecting doors and closets. “It was a mistake...I’m sorry. I hit nine to cancel.” “Thank you very much, gentlemen. False alarm.” He waited for them to leave the room. “You look pale. You sure you’re alright?” No...“I’m fine. Are you tracking my phone calls?” “I get notifications about all emergency calls—text messages for regular employees, a phone call if it’s coming from you.” “Oh...” I leaned back. “Are any of my coworkers out there? Did they see you come up?” “No.” He rolled his eyes and walked over to me. “What aren’t you telling me?” “What are you talking about?” He cupped my face in his hands. “You’ve been on edge lately...” Your mother’s been harassing me. Say it. Say it! “I’m just overwhelmed with a lot of assignments. That’s all.” “Hmmm. I’m sure I can fix that for you. Do you want to cancel dinner tonight? We don’t have to go.” “But your therapist said that—” “My mom is still acting like she doesn’t remember any of the things she did when I was younger...She was just here for a session and I walked out. I don’t think our relationship is reparable.” I sighed. I thought about saying, “It’s not. And you know what? I hate her too. Let’s cancel dinner and I’ll tell you all about it,” but my motherly instincts won out. The two of them could fix this, they needed to fix this. “It just takes time. Don’t cancel...She may have a strange way of showing it, but I think she’s willing to do whatever it takes to be a mainstay in your life now.” “Based on what I just told you?” Based on what she’s been doing...“Just trust me. Keep the dinner reservation... I’ll be there.”

Last Friday night I stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows of the ocean view restaurant and watched the waves hit the bay rocks over and over. I was dreading this dinner so much that I was tempted to run out on the patio and dive into the sea. When Jonathan dropped me off at home hours ago, I’d found another “gift” from Denise. I tossed it towards the trashcan, but it fell short a few feet and the contents of the box tumbled out onto the floor: They were pictures, and not just any pictures. Recent pictures of Ryan and Amanda enjoying their amazing life together—walking along the river with their two young children, kissing one

another as they strolled through the park hand in hand, laughing at nothing at all. They were sitting on a rock at me and Ryan’s old spot—our favorite downtown park. They were running down a cobblestoned street at Disneyworld, with Ashley and Caroline not too far behind them. How did she get these? I stopped looking through the pictures and felt myself shaking, feeling angry and hurt all over again. I told myself that I wasn’t going to cry, that I wasn’t going to read the little notes she’d written on the back of every picture, but I slumped down to the floor and read them all. I read every single word as tears fell down my face: “Fourteen years down the drain...” “You think Ashley and Caroline will actually respect a stepfather that’s only thirteen years older than them?” “You don’t think he’ll ever want kids of his own? Really? Ryan clearly did, and Jonathan will too...Maybe not until he’s in his thirties, but he will. You know that.” “Look at how Amanda and Ryan are aging together. She has a streak of gray and so does he...Are you going to be able to dye your hair every week? Isn’t the Age-Away regimen time consuming enough?” “I’m only trying to help you...I can help you find someone more suitable in no time...” My phone started vibrating and I snapped out of my memory. It was a text from Jonathan: “On my way. Can’t wait until dinner’s over :-).” I smiled and noticed another text. From Denise: “I know you have no reason to believe me right now, but I am so very sorry about the way I’ve treated you over the past few weeks...Jonathan and I are on our way to the restaurant now and I...I didn’t realize how much you meant to him. I thought you were a cougar that was after his money—I’m sorry for ever thinking that and calling you out of your name. Can we please be civil with one another at dinner tonight? I really am sorry.” I didn’t respond. It was too late for an apology—much too late. My phone vibrated again, and I saw another text from her. “I know you don’t owe me anything and you have every right to be angry with me, but can we PLEASE get through this dinner without incident? He won’t talk to me anymore if you tell him what’s been going on or make a scene...I’ll do whatever it takes to repair what I’ve messed up. I take everything I said back...Can we please start over? I think we could be good friends if we tried.” No response. I kept watching the waves roll over one another, trying to prepare myself for this terrible dinner. By the time Jonathan and his mother finally arrived, I’d had enough time to think things through, to make up my mind about this impossible relationship: I decided that I would get through dinner without incident. I would be polite to Denise and make sure that Jonathan never left my side, but after tonight, he and I would be over.

August 15, 2013 Dear Journal, There are two ways to write a Two Weeks’ Notice. If you want the traditional going away party with stale cake, cheap punch, and terribly recited poetry, you need to include the following lines in your letter: “I’ve learned so much from working with this company and I hope to apply my knowledge to my new position. Thank you for having me on your team throughout the years and I hope my contributions have been as meaningful to you as yours have been to me.” If you don’t give a damn about the company you’re leaving and the thought of a going away party with your co-workers makes you want to jump out the window before you can officially quit, you can simply sum up your letter in two short sentences: “As of [insert date] I will no longer be working for this company. Effective immediately.” Last week, I received a call from Signature Advertising—the premier advertising agency on the West Coast. They’d saved my application from four years ago, keeping it in an “Over Budget” folder since they thought my salary request would be too high. But now, they were “willing to spend whatever [they] needed to,” so they offered me the job over the phone—no interview necessary. I was thrilled, but I told them I needed forty eight hours to think about it. I was actually going to turn it down. I was going to tell them that I was enjoying my work at Statham Industries and would keep their offer in mind for the future. Yet, but right before I could make that phone call, one of my associates brought the top idea for the sPhone red into my office: “First it was blue, like the skies above your head...Now it’s full of love that will never go dead...Coming soon, the new sPhone red.” I’m done with this shit, Claire

Chapter 26 Claire One month later... I dabbed the corners of my eyes with my sleeves and swiped another pile of crumpled Kleenex into the trash can. I was sitting in my expansive corner office at Signature Advertising, bored out of my mind. As the regional chair, all I had to do was make sure the directors were getting their jobs done and host a weekly mentoring session with a few associates. I’d thought that I would at least get a good laugh from those sessions, but the associates here were completely different from the ones at Statham Industries: They actually knew what they were doing. Their ideas were amazing—way beyond their years. They could write ad copy within minutes, something that took my old associates hours to do. They hardly ever knocked on my door for assistance, and when they did, it was only to show me another remarkable idea that they’d come up with. In fact, they were so perfect that I spent all last week in my office with the door closed and watched movies. So much for having more responsibility and fulfillment... Since I had so much free time, all I could think about was Jonathan, and I couldn’t help but cry. I was missing him. Terribly. Each time my phone rang, each time my doorbell sounded, and each time there was a knock on my door, I hoped that it was him—telling me to come away with him, telling me that he wasn’t going to let me walk out of his life so easily. I even woke up this morning reaching out for him, thinking we’d fallen asleep together. It was for the best, Claire...It was for the best... “Miss Gracen?” My secretary called my line. “Yes?” “There’s someone here demanding to see you. I said that you don’t have any appointments scheduled for the day, but—” Jonathan?! “Send him in please.” I wiped my eyes and stood up, straightening my dress. I prepared myself to say “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. Let’s just pick up where we left off” as soon as he walked through the door. The door opened; in walked Sandra and Helen. Oh... “Well, it’s good to see you too!” Helen laughed. “Could you try not to look so disappointed to see your two best friends?” “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to.” I sighed. “What are you doing here?” “We’re making sure you don’t bomb within your first ninety days.” Helen set down a cake that read ‘Sixty more days to go!’ on my desk. “Looks like you’ve been crying—again.” “No, I haven’t...I just have—” “Allergies?” Sandra rolled her eyes. “Please. Have you called him yet?” I shook my head and the two of them exchanged glances.

“You know, I’m not a huge fan of the monogamous relationship thing,” Helen said as she sat on the edge of my desk. “That aside, I really think you should call him and tell him everything his mother was doing to you...I honestly think you two were made for each other—age gap and all. I’ve never seen sparks like that fly between people—and that’s saying a lot coming from me. I mean, I could literally feel the electricity whenever you were in the same room together, so you need to rectify this ASAP. Oh and random, who is the guy that sits at the side desk in the downstairs lobby?” “Ashton?” “Dark brown hair, green eyes?” I nodded. “That’s him.” “Is he single?” “He’s nineteen...” “Then he’s perfectly legal.” She eased off my desk and walked towards the door. “I’ll be right back.” Sandra shook her head. “Why do we put up with her again?” She walked over to my side of the desk and patted my back. “I agree with everything she said about you and Jonathan...I’d never seen you that happy until you started dating him. You need to tell him about his mom.” “What would be the point? She was wrong for handling it the way she did, but her main message was right. It would never work out. I’m too old for him, and I knew that from the beginning.” “Okay, you really need to stop—” “She knew exactly what to say to get to me...She knew throwing my age in my face would break me down. She knew that would make me leave him...” “And you shouldn’t have let her do that...You should have told him as soon as it started.” “I just...” I sighed. “He claims that he doesn’t care about his mother, that he sees her as a burden sometimes, but that’s not true...He wants them to have a good relationship. He’s wanted that his whole life. That’s why he always pays for her to go to rehab, that’s why he’s always hoping that this time is the time she’ll get it right, and I think she finally did. I didn’t want to stand in the way of that; that wouldn’t have been fair to him...I keep telling myself that I did the right thing, that I saved myself an even bigger heartbreak down the road but...” Tears fell down my face. “Did you tell him that you loved him?” I shook my head. “Why would I? We were close but...I didn’t love him. I liked him a lot and—” “Claire...” She pursed her lips and gave me her stop-bullshitting-me face. “I wanted to...I was going to tell him but—” I stopped and shut my eyes. “I knew I was going to break up with him the next day so I didn’t.” “It’s going to be okay...Stop crying...” “So! Ashton seems like he might be just the guy to break me out of my disappointing-dick-spell! He is definitely well endowed...” Helen walked back into my office. “He also gave me five packs of mini-Kleenex, so...” She tossed them over to me. “Let’s take you out to lunch, shall we? That’s step one to getting you back to normal.”

I walked down to the edge of Ocean Beach, so far that I could see Jonathan’s beach house in the distance. I thought about running towards it and knocking on the door, but I held back. I’d been doing this every weekend since we broke up: going to the deserted part of the beach, lying out on the sand, and thinking about all the things we’d done together. I reached into my purse and pulled out the small box he’d given me the day we broke up. I’d been carrying it around with me every day, but I’d held off on opening it because I didn’t want to be reminded of how foolish I was for breaking things off with him.

Unable to suppress my curiosity any longer, I sank down to the sand and flipped the top open: Inside was a beautiful golden necklace with a single anchor charm. Next to that necklace was another one—a silver one with several shimmering charms: There were white and red flags—melded together with “Claire & Caroline” etched onto the back, a silver yacht, an anchor with the words “Yours, Always” signed into the sides, a bottle of wine with our initials on the label, and then there was an “M” and an “L” that were intertwined. The “L” was bolder than the “M” and it was covered in a bright pattern of crystals. “ML”? What does that mean? I couldn’t think of any place we’d been to that had “M” and “L” in the title, and I couldn’t remember any conversations we’d had about those two letters. “My love”? “Mid-life”? “My love” probably... I placed it around my neck and ran my fingers along the charms, wishing that he was here— explaining what every charm meant and making love to me out in the open...

“Miss Gracen, is everything okay? Is something wrong with my idea?” “What?” I snapped back into reality. “No, Tiffany...Your idea is perfect.” As usual... “Well, thank you! That means a lot coming from you! And thanks for letting all of us meet you in a coffee shop. Our old director never did anything like that.” I smiled. “My pleasure. Enjoy the rest of your day.” I shook her hand and watched her walk out of the shop. I’d spent all morning meeting with my associates at the Starbucks across town. I’d told them that they needed to show me their ideas, make a short pitch, and once we agreed on it they could have the rest of the day off. Was she the last one I had to meet today? Doesn’t that make fifteen? God, I’m losing it... I was trying to do everything I could to break my routine, to start getting over Jonathan and anything that reminded me of Statham Industries. I hosted staff meetings at pastry shops, found a new park to do my weekly running, and drove out of my way to go to a different beach when I wanted to relax. I even asked Helen and Sandra to set me up on group dates on the weekends to prevent me from sulking alone at night. But, no matter how nice some of those men were, none of them compared to Jonathan. At all. I stood up and ordered another cup of coffee, stopping once I saw the front page of the Wall Street Journal. The headline was “Too Good to Pass Up!” and Jonathan was on it. He was smiling in a welltailored tuxedo and standing on stage addressing his employees at the IPO ball. Don’t pick it up...Don’t pick it up...You have to get over him, you have to get over him... I grabbed my latte and sat back down. I desperately wanted to text him “Congratulations” or ask “How does it feel to finally be public?” but I wasn’t sure if he would text me back. And I knew that if he did, I would disregard whatever he said and write “I miss you.” I opened my folder and started going though the directors’ proposals, making small notes here or there, shaking my head at how perfect their work was. “Is this seat taken?” a deep voice said. I flipped a page and didn’t bother looking up. “No, not at all. You can take it away.” “I wasn’t planning on taking it away. I wanted to know if I could sit down with you.” I lifted my head up and my eyes widened as soon as I saw the man’s face. Jesus... This man was perfection in every way. Every. Single. Way. With his deep brown eyes, dark and

sexy bedhead hair, and tanned skin that I could see underneath his unbuttoned shirt, he made me forget whatever I was working on. I was trying to figure out how old he was; he looked young, but not ‘Jonathan-young.’ As a matter of fact, he looked like he could be my age or maybe—he licked his lips and my thoughts immediately stopped. “So...” He pushed a few dark locks away from his forehead. “Can I join you?” I nodded. “Thank you.” He smiled and sat down, looking at my notebook. “You work for Signature?” I nodded again. “My company used them for our phone campaign last year. They do pretty good work.” I cleared my throat. “What phones? And what company do you work for?” “The iPhones, Apple. But I don’t work for them. Everyone works for me.” His eyes gleamed. “You’re Damien Edwards?” “Yes, and you’re stunning.” I blushed. “Thank you...” “What’s your name?” “Claire, Claire Gracen.” “Pretty...” He smiled again. “Am I interrupting something important?” I shut my folder. “Not at all.”

Chapter 27 Jonathan My life had fallen apart and I couldn’t catch a break: First, Claire broke up with me—out of nowhere, and begged me to leave her alone, forcing me to take a two week vacation to Los Cabos so I wouldn’t run after her. Then, as soon as I returned to the states, as soon as I walked into the HR department and started to help them with their restructuring plan, I learned that she’d put in a two weeks’ notice. I thought about showing up to her farewell party—backing her into a corner and forcing her to admit that she wasn’t serious about leaving me, but I stayed in my office instead. As the weeks passed, I thought she would call or text me—to at least say “Congratulations on the IPO being official,” or “I’m still willing to be your date to the ball” but she didn’t. She didn’t say anything, and I showed up to my IPO ball as the only executive without a date on his arm. “John? Man, are you there?” Corey cleared his throat. “Hello? Hello!” “Yes?” “I have the pictures from last week.” He slid them across my desk. “How much longer do you need me to do this?” “Until I figure out what the fuck happened...” I opened the folder and thumbed through the photos: Claire was shopping, having drinks with Sandra and Helen, cheering on the twins at their cheerleading competitions, and sitting on the beach with my charm necklace around her neck— staring off into the distance. “She’s cruising down to Florida next week. She and her friends are taking a short ride to the Virgin Islands and then they’ll be flying back.” What? “She’s getting on a plane?” “There’s a ticket in her name so I assume that’s what’s going to happen...” “When was the ticket purchased?” “Last Friday. She, Helen, and Sandra went to the airport to get them instead of buying them online for some strange reason. That reminds me, she’s been going to some type of phobia therapy at a private clinic every Tuesday and Thursday. I’ve verified that the sessions are three hours long and they’re one-on-one, but there’s doctor-patient privacy so I can’t tell you exactly what it’s for.” I know what it’s for... “Thank you very much, Corey. I’ll um...I won’t need you to do this for too much longer.” “Take all the time you need.” He gave me a half smile. “It’s not a hassle at all.” He patted my shoulder and walked out of my office. I still couldn’t figure out how the hell me and Claire went from making love one night to breaking up the next day. It didn’t make any sense, and I’d tried to think of every hypothetical scenario possible: She’d met someone else her age or older, someone had said something to her—making her feel bad about our relationship, or she woke up and decided that she really didn’t want me anymore. Yet, none of those scenarios added up: From the pictures, her life was the same—I just wasn’t in it anymore. She’d never mentioned anyone saying anything to her and I’d checked her phone records over and over. There were a few stray numbers here or there, but the conversations were always a minute or less so I figured they were probably quick conversations with her associates. And that last

scenario, the most hurtful one, didn’t make much sense either—not when she’d almost said “I love you too” right after I said “I love you” the night before we broke up. I tossed the pictures into the trash and called the IT department. “Could you please send me those phone records again? Could you expand the field from one month ago to three months ago please? Yes...That’d be fine...Yes, that would be the week of my birthday...Thank you very much.”

Chapter 28 Jonathan “Mr. Statham? Mr. Statham?” My therapist tapped her notebook. “Yes?” “Did you hear what your mother just said?” “No.” “She said she’s starting to remember some of the past now. Are you ready to sit over here with us so we can discuss that?” I stood by my floor to ceiling windows and sighed. “Miss Tate, can we please reschedule this session? I apologize, but I can’t give you my undivided attention today.” “Not a problem...I’ll have my secretary call Angela in the morning.” “Thank you.” I heard her gathering her things and walking out the door. I felt a small hand on my shoulder and turned to see my mother looking up at me. “Are you alright?” She tilted her head to the side. “I’ve never seen you like this...You’ve been moping around for weeks.” “No. I am not alright.” “What happened?” “I—” “Mr. Statham?” Angela stepped into my office. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you promised that I could go home early since it’s my birthday and...Well, it’s one o’ clock and you haven’t mentioned—” “I’m so sorry, Angela. I completely forgot.” I walked over to my desk and pulled out a drawer. I lifted a red gift bag up and handed it to her. “Happy Birthday, I really appreciate everything you do. I told HR that you’ll still need to be paid, but you don’t have to come back until Monday. Enjoy the rest of the week off.” “What? Thank you! Thank you very much! I’ll make sure a temp will be here for you before I go...Oh, and Mrs. Statham,” she said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a new sPhone. “This came in for you yesterday. I had them give you a new number again.” “Oh! Well, I finally figured everything out dear. I don’t need any more sPhones. I’ll just keep the number I have.” “Good, because I think seven numbers is enough.” She laughed. “I’ll see you next Wednesday, Mr. Statham. Thank you again.” “You’re welcome.” I took my place at the window again and sighed. My mom put her hand on my shoulder. “Are you going to tell me what happened now?” “Claire left me...” “What?” She gasped. “When was this?” “The day after we all had dinner together...” “Did she say why?” “Not really.” She patted me on the back. “I’m so sorry to hear that...Have you tried calling her?” I didn’t answer. I wanted to call her every day—to ask if she was still out of her damn mind, but I promised to let her go so I left it alone.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” she said, sighing. “Things happen for a reason, son. Maybe you should date someone your own age next. You had to know it wasn’t going to last a long time with an older woman...She probably had an agenda that you didn’t even know about...” I moved her hand off my shoulder and glared at her. “Thank you, mother. This is really helping.” “Oh come on! I know you liked her a lot but—” “But what?” “Nothing...Just take it from another older woman: These May-December romances aren’t longterm material. I mean, I liked Claire from the moment I met her. I thought she was beautiful, charming, and hell—I would’ve never guessed that she was forty, but that fact remains. At the end of the day, you two are better off apart. You just don’t know it yet... Would you like to eat lunch with me today? We can talk about this for as long as you need to...” “Sure. But I don’t feel like leaving my office. Could you get that new Italian restaurant’s menu from Angela before she leaves? We’ll order in.” “Of course.” She stood on her toes and kissed me on the cheek. She patted my back one more time and headed for the door. As soon as I heard the doorknob turn, something in me snapped and I spun around. “Wait, mom. One second...” “What is it? You want Chinese instead?” “How did you know Claire’s first name the day I introduced you two?” I didn’t know why I’d never caught that before. I’d been playing our breakup and the preceding weeks in my head every day. I was sure it was nothing, but I needed to make sure. “What are you talking about?” I walked over. “The day I introduced you to her...Angela said Miss Gracen over the intercom and you asked me who she was referring to. I said my girlfriend, but before I could tell you her first name was Claire, you reached out and said it first. How was that possible?” “I don’t know. I guess you mentioned her to me before and I happened to remember, so—” “No. I didn’t.” I noticed that she was shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I never mentioned Claire to you by name. Ever.” “Maybe you thought you didn’t, but you—” “I didn’t. Answer me.” She didn’t say anything. She just stared at me. “Answer. the. question.” “Calm down, Jonathan...I think you’re confusing yourself because you’re hurt and angry right now; you shouldn’t be taking this out on me. I’m going to get that menu so we can—” “Stop.” I placed my hands over the door, blocking her escape. I looked directly into her eyes and then I saw it—that look of guilt, that look she always got whenever she didn’t want to admit to something. I narrowed my eyes. “What the fuck did you do?” “Watch how you talk to me! I’m your mother! You can’t just—” “What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?” “Nothing...Can you please move so I can get the menu?” “No.” She shook her head and walked past me, taking a seat on the couch. She patted the seat next to her, but I stood still by the door. “I met her at my gift shop a couple months ago...She bought those sea hooks you got for your birthday from me.” “And?”

“And nothing...I didn’t put two and two together until we were in your office that day and I remembered that her name was Claire...Is that not okay? Does that make me a bad person?” I blinked. I was about to drop the subject, but then something else hit me. “Why did Angela say you had seven phones with seven different numbers? You’ve been calling me from the same number since you got out of rehab...” Her face suddenly turned red and she gasped. “No reason, I—” “Tell me the truth.” “It’s not what you—” “Stop bullshitting me! You said something to her didn’t you?” I should’ve caught this a long time ago...Why didn’t I see this? “I—” “I will lock both of us in this room until you start talking.” She sighed. “I just told her that she was wrong for dating you...that someone her age should know better...And ever since that day I saw her in your office, I told her that she was wrong every chance I got...” “I want the details.” “Please don’t make me—” “Now.” She swallowed. “At first I was just calling her...and then I...” She stopped every few sentences, telling me how she called Claire every day and left threatening voicemails, how she sent her mean emails with photo shopped pictures, how she asked Angela to get her a new phone with a new number every Monday so the calls wouldn’t be traced to her own phone. “And me and Vanessa—” “Vanessa was in on this too?” I balled my fists. She nodded. “She was the one who told me that Claire was only after you for your money so...We hired a private investigator to dig up some dirt on her past and I used it against her...I even hired an investigator in Pittsburgh to follow her ex-husband and his new wife around so I could throw that in her face...I thought she was using you...I thought—” “Did I ever ask what you thought? Did I ever say, Mother, tell me what you think about Claire?” “No...” “No? Are you sure?” I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. “Or is that something else you don’t remember?” She began to cry. “Do you want to know why the answer is no? It’s because it doesn’t fucking matter what you think and it never will. I don’t need—” “I was only trying to protect you! I didn’t know that —” “There are a lot of things you don’t know, a lot of shit you can’t seem to remember lately. But since we’re sharing stories now, let me help you out. Let me tell you exactly why what you think will never matter to me: You were never there when I needed you to be. Ever. You let me, a fucking kid, take care of a toddler while you and my father were out doing god knows what. You showed up high to everything I had at school—you were so fucking high you made me drive the car to the store when I was eight! But you don’t remember that do you? You don’t remember how you never did shit for us —how we had to beg you to come back with food, or how you left us in a trailer that damn near killed us. You still have yet to even apologize for that because you don’t want to own up to being the horrible fucking mother that you are. ” “I was on drugs! I’ve apologized over and over and you just keep dragging this out because—” “Get out.”

“Please just lis—” “Get. Out.” I pulled the door open and walked over to my desk. I was done with her. Sobbing, she slid her purse strap over her shoulder and headed for the door. She twisted the doorknob and slowly pulled it open. “Wait.” I sighed. She looked back with tears in her eyes. “Yes?” I glared at her, tempted to say “I never want to hear from you again. Stay the hell out of my life,” but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. As furious as I was with her, I was now even angrier with Claire. She didn’t even think to tell me about everything that had gone on; she’d simply used my mom’s behavior as an excuse to take the easy way out. “Take a seat.” “No...” She wiped her face and sniffled. “I don’t care how mad you are at me, you’re not going to treat me like—” “SIT DOWN, mother.” She moved away from the door and walked over to my desk, plopping down on a seat. I took a deep breath. “You and I are going to talk, without our therapist. You’re going to be completely honest with me and I’m going to be completely honest with you. Once we’re done talking, if nothing good comes of it, we’re going to go our separate ways...I want you to know that I’ll always take care of you and give you whatever you need, but we don’t have to pretend like this relationship is something worth salvaging if it’s really not. Can you—” “I want to be a part of your life regardless of this conversation. I don’t think it’s fair for you to write me off like I’m some type of—” “Was what you did to Claire fair to me?” “No...” She sighed. “And I’m sorry, but I—” “I said ‘if’ this isn’t something worth salvaging, so you better be completely honest with me. Are you willing to do that?” “Yes...” “Good. Give me one second and we’ll start.” I picked up my phone and called executive affairs. “Milton, get me the proper paperwork to impeach a member of the board. I want it within an hour and I’ll be exercising clause seventeen to make the impeachment effective immediately.”

Chapter 29 Jonathan Two months later... Stacy ran her fingers through my hair and kissed my lips. She tried to part them open with her tongue, but they wouldn’t budge. She slowly unfastened the top buttons of my shirt and started to pull it off, but I pushed her hand away. She sighed. “I should’ve known you weren’t up for this...” She grabbed her bra off the chair and handed it to me. “Can you help me put it back on?” “What?” “My bra...Can you help me put it back on?” “Oh. Sure.” “The third row, please. And for the record, I’m officially taking the ‘with benefits’ tag off our friendship. We haven’t had sex in forever.” I snapped the last hook on her bra. “Fine...” “I’m really worried about you.” She turned around and cupped my face. “You’re scaring me...” “Because I’m not having sex with you?” I rolled my eyes. “Because you’re not being the Jonathan I know. Why can’t you just call Claire? You’re not the type to stay away from someone you like. This isn’t you at all.” “You’re suggesting that I call the woman who broke up with me and begged me to leave her alone?” “I’m just saying that—” “That’s not my style.” “Whatever. How long do you need me to stay in town?” she asked. “I need to tell the condo manager a date tomorrow.” “Not long, and you’re more than welcome to stay here or at one of the beach houses.” I rebuttoned my shirt. “I just need you to go to the Juniper Conference with me as my date in two weeks. I’ll need someone to keep the single women away from me. I don’t want them thinking I’m available.” “I don’t have to accompany you to the morning tech sessions do I? You know that stuff bores me out of my mind.” “Not unless you want to.” “Ha! No. Parties and mixers only, and I’ll do my best to act like I’m your girlfriend. By the way, since I flew out here and you left me hanging again, I’ll need a shopping spree on your behalf. Tomorrow. Actually, make it every day this week.” “Fair enough.” I stood up. “Are you spending the night here?” “Um, I was actually going to—” “Can you?” “Why?” I sighed. “I just need someone to be here...” I didn’t feel like going into another spiel about Claire. “Sure.” She put on her shirt and kissed my cheek. “I’ll set up my bed in the living room. You want to get breakfast in the morning?” “We can’t share a bed?”

“No.” “Why not? We normally do.” “Jonathan...” She sighed. “You haven’t called me ‘Stacy’ once today. You’ve been calling me Claire ever since you picked me up from the airport. You didn’t even ask me how I’ve been doing until we were at dinner...As a matter of fact, after I told you, you asked me about Ashley and Caroline ... I didn’t want to say anything because I’ve never seen you like this and I didn’t want to upset you.” She placed her hand on my shoulder. “I don’t want to put you in a situation where you sleep with me, subconsciously thinking that I’m Claire because I’m not. I want you to get your shit together and figure this out. I’ll be in the living room if you need me...Okay?” “Okay... Goodnight, Stacy.” “Goodnight. See you in the morning.” She gave me a reassuring smile and walked away. As soon as she left my room, I walked over to my dresser and pulled out the latest set of pictures: Claire was running on the Golden Gate Bridge, hosting meetings at Starbucks, and lying on the beach in a beautiful black bikini—one of the ones I’d bought for her to wear on my yacht. I flipped through the pictures over and over, scrutinizing every part. Then I realized that the running pictures were all taken at night, and that these weren’t the latest pictures—they were two weeks old. I called Greg. “Greg, are you—” My doorbell rang and I knew it was him; he was always nearby. I rushed downstairs and let him in, ushering him into the parlor room. I poured us both a glass of scotch and sat in front of the fireplace. “Good seeing you, Greg...” I took a few sips of my drink and leaned back in my chair, wondering why he wasn’t doing the same. “You called me in the middle of the night to have a drink with you, Mr. Statham?” He set the glass down and raised his eyebrow. “Did they find that suspect who was doing the random muggings on the Golden Gate Bridge?” “Not to my knowledge sir, they haven’t. I doubt he’d appear in the daytime though. If you’re concerned about your employees’ commercial shoot there tomorrow, I can arrange to have—” “No, it’s not that. It’s...Can you make sure someone from security is on the bridge at night to watch Miss Gracen? She runs on Wednesday and Thursday nights between eight and nine...She doesn’t need to know you’re there. I just need you to make sure nothing happens to her.” “Of course. I’ll make sure that gets done sir.” “And since I’m staying home tomorrow, could you get the newest pictures from Corey for me? I know she’s on vacation this week, but I didn’t get anything from last week.” “I already have them.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small manila envelope. “Corey wasn’t sure if he should give these to you so he gave them to me.” “What? Why?” And since when do they talk behind my back? “He doesn’t think you can handle it. Quite frankly, neither do I.” “Greg,” I said as I took another sip of my drink, “give them to me. I don’t know why you and Corey are suddenly best friends, but I think I’m more than capable of—” “Miss Gracen is dating someone else.” WHAT! My blood heated. “What did you just say?” “She’s dating someone else.” I tried not to sound appalled. “Who is he?” “Does it matter?” “It does. Give me the damn envelope.” I slammed my glass down on the table.

He sighed. He walked over to me like he was going to place it in my hands, but then he stepped past me and tossed it into the flames. Before I could react, he held his hand up. “I’ll make sure that Miss Gracen is safe at all times whenever she runs on the Golden Gate Bridge and whenever she goes to the beach alone.” He cleared his throat. “But I won’t keep doing this to you, sir. With all due respect, it’s not helping. The security team has stopped tracking photos for you as of today and I’ve changed all the access codes to their offices. They’ll no longer be pursuing this project.” “Under what orders? Are you trying to get fired?” “Are you trying to lose your most loyal employee?” “I have plenty of loyal employees and they know how to do exactly what they’re told. If you value your job, you will go back to corporate right now and have those photos reprinted before—” “You fire me?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you testing me, Greg? I will fire you. You are not irreplaceable.” He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow. I stared at him long and hard, biting down on my tongue until it bled because I couldn’t fix my mouth to say, “You’re fired.” If he was a regular security guard or driver, I would have fired him on the spot—no questions asked, but Greg was much more than that. He’d been there for me since the beginning and he was my silent confidante. My right hand man. And he and I both knew that I couldn’t afford to lose him. Ever. “Fine.” “Good. Hayley sends her regards. Her Scrabble team is on a flight to Italy as we speak. When she returns to the states, she would like for you to send her an early edition of the sPhone red. The hackers who attempted to break into your company’s firewall last week have all been charged and no harm was done to the internal system according to Corey. Those are the updates you weren’t paying attention to earlier today. Do you need anything else from me tonight?” “No.” “Very well then. Have a good night, Mr. Statham.”

I sat in the parlor room until midnight. I tried drinking my pain away, but I could only get through one glass. All I could think about was Claire—her kissing someone else, being held by someone else, having sex with someone else. Each bitter thought made me want to drive to her house and demand to know who the hell this new man was, to put a stop to it immediately. How can she move on so soon? How is that possible? After replaying some of our old memories, I decided to walk around my house until I was too tired to think anymore. I started outside, walking through the gardens and the pool deck—trying not to envision the times that Claire and I had made love under the trees. I came back inside and circled through the hallways, trying to ignore any place that I’d been with her, but it was no use. We’d been everywhere. I dragged myself into the living room and sighed. I placed another blanket over Stacy, kissing her on the forehead. “Hey...” Her eyes fluttered open. “You okay?” “No.” She moved over on the couch and motioned for me to lie down. “What’s wrong? Why do you look like someone just died?” “She’s dating someone else.”

“What?” “Claire...She’s dating someone else.” “Oh...” She frowned. “Well, it’s probably not that serious. It’s—” “The fact that she’s even able to date someone else that quickly is—” “It’s been three months, Jonathan...” That’s all? I felt like it’d been at least a year. She wrapped her arms around me and sighed. “You really love her, huh?” I didn’t answer. I just shut my eyes and tried to ignore the horrible pangs that were assaulting my chest. I didn’t understand how it’d gotten to this point—still couldn’t wrap my mind around why she didn’t tell me about my mother, why she thought us being apart was the solution for that. It didn’t make any sense because she loved me—I knew she did. I could see it in her eyes whenever we made love, whenever I showed up to her house and spent time with her and her family, whenever we spent all night exchanging sarcastic comebacks. Or maybe she didn’t...Maybe it was just me... Just as I was about to surrender to my heavy eyelids, I heard my phone ringing in the parlor room. It wasn’t the special ringtone I had for Greg, Claire, or anyone else important, so I let it ring. But then it kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing. I rolled off the couch and walked into the other room, looking at the number. It was a San Fran number, but it didn’t look familiar. I was tempted to silence it, but this person had already ruined my chance at sleep. “This better be fucking important.” I growled. “Jonathan?” It was a young girl’s voice. “Is this Jonathan?” “Who is this?” “Ashley...” She started crying. Claire’s Ashley? “What’s going on?” I softened my tone. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to—” “I...I need your help, please...” “What happened?” I grabbed my jacket and slipped into my shoes. “I can’t....I really need your help...” “Where are you?” I rushed to my garage. “I’m on...on Tim Street...At Haven Foods...And I’m—” “Are you hurt?” “No... But I...” She said something in between sobs. “Can you come get me?” “I’ll be there in a minute.” I revved up my car. “Stay right there.” “Please don’t call my mom,” she whispered. “Why not?” “Please...” “I won’t.” I wouldn’t know what to say anyway.

I sped over to the grocery store—racing into parking lot, slowing down once I saw what the problem was. Jesus... I stepped out and looked at the mangled metal mess that was once Claire’s Audi Q7: The front of the car was wrapped around a pole and the windshield was shattered. The front right tire had been flung across the lot and the driver ’s door was smashed in so deep that it looked like the car had run into the guard rail before crashing into the pole.

From the way it looked, it was a miracle that Ashley had made it out alive. I looked over at her and noticed that she was trembling. I took off my jacket and put it over her shoulders. “Shhh. It’s going to be okay.” She sniffled. “Are you going to tell my mom about this?” “I’m pretty sure she’s going to find out somehow...” “I know you two aren’t together anymore, and I’m sorry for calling so late, but I didn’t know who else to call...My mom isn’t the best option, if you know what I mean...” “Tell me what happened...” She wiped her face on her sleeve. “Me and Caroline wanted to go out tonight, but she wanted to hang out with that guy—Jake, remember? He finally asked her out after texting her every day.” She shrugged. “It’s her weekend to take our car, but I wanted to go on another date with Chris...I didn’t want to have to rely on him for a ride because the last time we went out, he drove and I barely made curfew so...” “Calm down.” I motioned for her to sit on the hood of my car. “We met at the movies and everything was going fine, but then he said he wanted to spend some alone time with me. He told me to follow him somewhere and...It was an um, a hotel...” Please give me the G-rated version... “He had the room set up really special, and he’d rented some movies, and he told me to ‘just relax’...We drank like four beers each and I thought we were just going to mess around. Honestly, I swear! I didn’t think he was going to try and sleep with me! This was only our third time going out!” “Okay...” I braced myself for the rest. “We were kissing and touching and stuff but then he started getting really rough and tried to take my pants off...I told him no, but he kept trying so I threatened to scream...Then he got really angry and started cursing at me, calling me a tease...He told me he didn’t really like me anyway. He’d just heard that I was....I was easy! But that’s not true! I’ve never been with anyone!” She cried. “So I ran out of the room, but when I got downstairs all his teammates were in the lobby laughing at me and calling me all these names...They said he only invited me there so he could—so he could prove how easy I was...I rushed out to the parking lot and drove off as fast as I could...I was fine at first, but then I couldn’t really see where I was going and the road started to get blurry and...Well...” She waved her hand toward the wreck. “I take it that you didn’t ask your mom if you could use her car?” “Are you kidding me? She would’ve said no! She always says no! She expects us to stick together all the time! I mean, Caroline is my best friend and we do a lot of stuff together, but we do have our own lives. She acts like she doesn’t see that! How can she expect us to share a car? It’s not fair...” She shook her head and leaned on me, not saying anything for a long time. Once I felt like she’d completely calmed down, I cleared my throat. “So, you called me because you want me to fix this before your mom gets back?” “Well... yeah.” She sat up and smiled. “I think you can afford it...” “And you’re going to beg me not to tell her what happened?” “Yes...” I smiled and tried not to laugh. “Tell you what, I’m not going to tell her.” “Really? You’d do that for me?” “You are.” “What?” “I’ll have it replaced by tomorrow morning, but you have to tell her that you took her car without permission and you were out drinking as soon as she gets back from her trip.” “What! What type of sense does that make?”

“It makes perfect sense to me.” She crossed her arms. “She’ll ground me! I’ll miss Charity Lane’s party next weekend! Not to mention autumn jam!” “Probably so.” “And she’ll take away my cell phone! And not just take it away—she’ll destroy it!” “It could be ten times worse.” “But the car won’t be wrecked! She won’t even be able to tell that I drove it once you replace it! I’ll be telling on myself for nothing! I’ll be—” “You could’ve killed someone tonight, Ashley.” My voice was stern. “You’re lucky nothing happened to you or that you weren’t pulled over. Why were you drinking anyway? You’re only sixteen.” She frowned. “I did it because I didn’t want to seem lame in front of him...I’ve never done it before today and I promise I’ll never do it again...Do I really have to tell her that part?” “Do you want me to replace the car?” “Fine...” She sighed. “I’ll kiss my social life goodbye.” “It’s only temporary. Who knows, maybe she’ll see you as being responsible for telling her and get you and Caroline separate cars for your birthday.” “Could you please talk her into that? That would be so awesome!” “We’ll see...” I pulled out my phone. “Greg? I need a tow truck. Yeah, for the Audi Q7. We also need to buy another one in the next few hours—same model and we’ll need to get the custom upgrades that we got before. See if you can work out something with the VIN number...I’m in the parking lot at Haven Foods on Tim Street. Could you also bring something to eat for Ashley? Yes...McDonald’s will be fine.” I hung up. “Thank you for helping me with this...” Ashley looked down at the ground. “You’re very welcome.” “You know, I really like you, Jonathan. I think my mom still likes you too, but she’d probably like you even more if I told her that me and Caroline are kind of missing you since you two broke up. I mean, we are missing you. Not many people understand our Physics jokes and I like your pasta a lot better than my mom’s... So, I’m thinking...If you want me to put in a good word for you, I think you should reconsider—” “You’re going to tell her about the car, Ashley.” She laughed. “It was worth a try.”

Chapter 30 Claire “How was your trip, sweetheart?” Damien lifted my hand and kissed it. “It was amazing. I had a lot of fun.” “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the awards ceremony tonight? The organizers swear it won’t be as boring as the last one. ” “I’m sure.” I placed my carryon bag in my lap and buckled my seatbelt. “I just want to unpack with a glass of wine and slowly readjust to the real world tonight.” He laughed and leaned over to kiss me. As he ran his fingers through my hair, he tugged at the strings of the sea shell headband I was wearing and whispered, “I missed you.” “I missed you too...” He kissed me a few more times before moving away and revving up his car. He sped through the airport terminals and entered the highway. He looked over at me every few minutes, smiling whenever I looked at him. He was definitely sexy as hell and my eyes couldn’t get enough of him, but over the past couple weeks it seemed like “attraction” was the only thing holding us together. Even though he was a few years older than me—forty three, had experienced divorce just like I had, and seemed to be a perfect match, there was something missing. Our conversations weren’t that deep, our time together was hardly memorable, and he seemed to be more into impressing me than getting to know me. Maybe if you actually gave him a fair chance, you would think differently...You haven’t honestly done that yet...Maybe you should open up about your past a bit—maybe even tell him about Jonathan... I cleared my throat. “How was your week while I was away?” “Terrible. In addition to not being able to see the most beautiful woman in the world every day, I got crushed by Statham Industries for the year to date presales.” “What do you mean?” “They’ve outsold us by fifteen percent for the year so far and they haven’t even opened up the presales for their sPhone red yet...I hate Jonathan Statham.” What?! “Why?” I tried to sound indifferent. He drove onto the exit ramp. “Okay, I don’t necessarily hate him—No, I do hate him.” He laughed. “We’ve been at it ever since he started his company. He’s our biggest competitor and he knows it. I can’t deny the man’s a genius, but sometimes he makes moves just because he can, just to be a showoff so he can say that his company is number one.” “Like...” “Like releasing a new product days before my company does. We’ll have a marketing plan in place months in advance. We’ll have commercials and billboards all over the country for a product that comes out on Friday, and just to be an ass, he’ll release his competing product on Thursday.” I tried not to laugh. “So, it’s a friendly rivalry?” “No.” He pulled in front of my house and turned to face me. “We’re polite whenever we see each other, but we don’t get along at all...Between you and me, I really respect him, but it always seems like

he has the upper-hand, like he always gets the best stuff first. I feel like no matter what I do, I’m always getting his sloppy seconds.” Shit...“Umm...” “I’m so sorry.” He kissed my cheek. “I shouldn’t be talking about my competitor. I should be focusing on you.” He stepped out and opened my door. Once I was out of the car, he pulled my luggage from his trunk and walked me up to my house. “You sure you don’t want to come tonight?” He stepped closer to me. “We wouldn’t have to stay the whole time. Actually, if you want, we could go for five minutes and then we could go back to my place. ” I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach as he smiled his pearly whites. See? You can have feelings for someone else...“I’m sure...” I leaned forward to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me even closer, so close that I could feel the large bulge in his pants. Then I felt my stomach’s butterflies fluttering harder, making sounds. Ugh...These aren’t feelings...I’m just hungry... “Thank you for picking me up from the airport, Damien.” I pulled away to catch my breath. “You’re more than welcome.” He stepped back. “Can I ask you something?” “Of course.” “Am I being friend-zoned?” “What do you mean?” “We’ve been dating for a while now and...You hold back whenever we kiss and you never invite me in.” He looked concerned. “If we were platonic friends, I wouldn’t be kissing you at all.” I kissed his lips again to make a point. “You’re definitely not being friend-zoned. I just like to wait a while before I invite someone in.” Unless it’s Jonathan Statham... “I understand. Would you like to be my date to the Juniper conference next week? It’s a week-long event and it’s at a huge resort in the suburbs...I can get you a separate suite if you don’t feel comfortable sharing.” Maybe it’ll help you move on if you share...“No need for a separate suite.” I stood on my toes and kissed him again. “I’d love to go with you.” “Okay. Well, I’ll set everything up and give you all the details over dinner Thursday. Good night, Claire.” “Goodnight Jon—” I cleared my throat. “Damien. Goodnight, Damien.”

Two days later... I tossed Ashley’s cell phone into a bowl of water and placed it in the freezer. I wasn’t one of those parents who trusted their kids to not use their phone just because I said so. I made sure “no cell phone” really meant “no cell phone.” I saw tears streaming down her face as I continued my lecture, but they weren’t having a sympathetic effect on me at all. “What if you’d wrecked my car? What if something had happened to you? And to top it off you’d been drinking? What would have happened if the police pulled you over and you got a DUI—at sixteen? You could’ve ruined your life before it even began! Did you think about that?” My voice was louder than it’d ever been. “I’ve raised you so much better than that, Ashley Marie Gracen. I can’t even...I can’t talk to you right now.” I shook my head. “Go to your room. Get used to being in there for the next four months.” “I really am sorry...” She sniffled as she walked away.

I leaned against the counter and shook my head, exhaling over and over again. I was beyond furious with her and extremely confused as to why she’d snitched on herself; I would’ve never known about this past weekend if she didn’t mention it—and it wasn’t like her to mention it. That wasn’t her personality at all. Before I could get through a recap of my vacation, she’d blurted everything out: Late night date. Hotel. Beer. Taking my car without permission. She’d sobbed as she told me what happened, and even though she emphasized that she brought my car back “without a single scratch” and promised to “never drink again,” I had to punish her to prevent this from ever happening again. Is four months long enough? I grabbed a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream and walked into the living room. I plopped down on the sofa and sifted through the channels, searching for something happy to watch. I needed to clear my brain. Unfortunately, there was nothing on but late afternoon talk shows; Dr. Phil was a re-run, and I’d seen all the shows on HGTV before. I started flipping through the premium channels and stopped once I saw Harry Potter. I sighed. It wasn’t that long ago that Jonathan had come over and watched that with me, Ashley, and Caroline. As a matter of fact, the day it happened, it was like I wasn’t even there: The three of them talked through most of the movie. They argued about what was true to the book and what wasn’t, what parts they liked the best, and who was the biggest fan. It was so bad that at one point, they started betting each other on film trivia—using chocolate “shots” to punish whoever got the facts wrong. When the film was over and Caroline emerged as the winner, I thought he and I would finally get some alone time, but they decided to watch the next film in the series. I turned the TV off and went up to my room, crashing face first onto my bed. It’d been three months since I’d broken up with Jonathan and I’d once again failed to go a day without thinking about him. I thought that more time away from him would make him fade from my memory; that every day that passed would be another day that he wouldn’t infiltrate my thoughts, and that dating someone else would help erase him, but that was far from the truth. He crossed my mind every time I went to sleep alone, every time I woke up without him by my side, and every time I stepped into my new office where no flowers were waiting for me. I felt a lump rising up my throat and began to cry. I didn’t attempt to wipe the tears away; I let them fall and rolled over on my side, allowing our memories to play in my mind over and over. I was remembering our first date, remembering when he pushed me against the railing and slipped his arms around my waist. Just as he was about to press his lips against mine, my phone rang and interrupted the memory. Damien. “Hello?” I answered softly. “Hey, sweetheart. Are we still on for our date tonight?” Shit, I forgot all about that...“Sure, what time should I be ready?” “Seven o’ clock. Are you okay? You sound a little sick.” “Oh, yeah.” I sniffled. “I’m fine. Allergies, you know?” “Do you want to stay in instead? We can—” “No, no...I’ll take a Zyrtec or something. I really need—I mean, I really want to go out tonight.” “Okay, then. I can’t wait to see you.” “Me either. See you soon.” I hung up and looked at my watch—four o’clock.

I decided to take my time getting ready, thinking that that would help me keep my memories of Jonathan at bay. I rolled off the bed and ran a warm bath with extra bubbles. I set my favorite scented candles all around the ledge and quickly undressed, slipping my body underneath the suds. “Ahhhh...” I lay back and let my shoulders touch the cool ceramic. I reached for my waterproof radio and tuned it to the classical music station, wincing once I heard a familiar refrain. It was the song Jonathan and I danced to on his yacht. “Step back...Step forward...Your dancing is getting a lot better, Claire...I think we should finish this lesson downstairs...” I changed the station. Talk radio. “And in financial news this afternoon, Statham Industries is set to reach yet another milestone as its presale orders have practically toppled the—” I shut it off. I slid completely under the water, letting my head go underneath, holding myself there as I tried to fight the onslaught of more memories: We were sitting in the tub together, watching each other—smiling at nothing at all, laughing without a care in the world. “Come here, Claire.” He reached out for me to move across the Jacuzzi, rolling his eyes when I didn’t move. He slid over to my side and put his arm around me. “Your difficulty never ceases to amaze me...Is taking a bubble bath your favorite thing to do?” “Yeah, but it’s ten times better when I’m alone.” “Stop lying to me.” “Who said I was lying?” I reached up and threaded my fingers through his hair, looking into his eyes as he gazed back into mine. I leaned in and brought his head down lower for a kiss, but he moved back. “Stop.” He moved my hand away from him and shook his head, sighing. He pulled me into his lap —holding me against his chest, and then he kissed me. “I love you, Claire.” My heart stopped, my body stilled. I wasn’t sure what to say. “I—” “You don’t have to say it back.” He planted kisses along my throat. “I know you’re extremely fragile and not sure about exactly what this is, but I want you to know that I do love you and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you...I’ll do whatever you ask me to do if it’ll make you happy.” He brought his hand up and ran his fingers through my hair, softly kissing my lips—rendering me completely speechless again. “And before you even attempt to ask the obvious, I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Ever. Only you.” I shot back up to the surface and gasped for air, inhaling as much of it as I could. As I finished my bath, I wiped away tear after tear, knowing that if Jonathan was here, he wouldn’t let me cry; he would find a way to make me laugh. I blew out the candles that surrounded me and climbed out of the tub. Holding back the rest of my tears, I wrapped myself in a robe, the same one he’d seen me in when he first came over. I opened my closet and thumbed through my dresses—stopping once I saw the ones he’d bought me for the IPO ball: “I like this one...” I twirled around in a one shoulder white gown that barely touched the floor. “It doesn’t make me look like too much of a bride though, does it?” He leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Are you going to be like this all day? You haven’t said anything about any of the dresses I’ve tried on. Do you not care what I wear to the ball? Are you using your silence to tell me that you don’t want me to go with you anymore?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Miss Gracen? Are you ready for the next dress?” the attendant asked. “Mr. Statham picked out another one while you were trying on this one.” “Are you going to speak to me at all today?” I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for him to answer, but he didn’t say a word. I rolled my eyes and turned around, following the attendant back into the dressing room. I slowly slipped out of the white gown and watched as she unzipped the black bag that hung over the door. As she removed the dress from the plastic, I gasped. “Stunning isn’t it?” She smiled and signaled for me to raise my hands above my head. She took her time pulling it over me—zipping up the back, and aligning the strapless top. I looked at myself in the mirror and shook my head. The dress was flawless. It was a nude colored gown that accentuated my every curve. It was covered in sparkling crystals and the sweetheart neckline gave way to a skirt that fell in soft satin waves, a skirt that made it appear like I was floating as I walked. “Miss Gracen?” The attendant held the door open for me. “Are you ready now?” I nodded. I walked into the studio room, immediately feeling the pressure of Jonathan’s eyes on my body with every step I took. I stepped onto the small platform and moved in front of the tri-fold mirror. “Are you going to say something about this one?” My eyes connected with his. “Why haven’t you said anything? You don’t like any of the dresses?” He blinked. Then he stood up and walked onto the platform, circling around me like he was assessing every inch of me. “You’ve looked beautiful in every dress you’ve tried on today—every single one.” He trailed his fingertips across my bare shoulders. “I’ll buy them all.” “But I can only wear one to the IPO ball. You’re supposed to help me choose which—” “I will.” He pressed his finger against my lips. “After you try them on for me again at home...” I flipped past all twelve of those dresses and picked out a small little black dress. It was extremely simple, but it had a few elegant details along the straps that made it stand out. I snapped on a bra and pulled the dress over my head. As I was doing my make-up, the doorbell rang. It’s only six o’ clock... He’s an hour early? “Ashley! Caroline! Go get the door!” I put on a thick layer of mascara and a touch of blush. I brushed glittering bronze over both my eyelids and the doorbell rang again. “Ashley and Caroline, get the door please!” I took out a tube of red lipstick. I was about to place it against my mouth, but the doorbell rang again. Ugh! Are they sleeping or something?! I rushed down the steps and opened the door. Jonathan. He was wearing black slacks and a white button down shirt—with the sleeves pushed back to his elbows, with the top buttons undone. He didn’t look too happy to see me. He looked enraged, like he was about to hurt someone. My heart started racing and I tried to say something—anything, but no words came out of my mouth. “Hello, Claire.” He seethed. Silence. He looked me up and down, narrowing his eyes at me. “You look really nice...Are you going somewhere?” “Yes...” “And where would that be?”

“I’m...” I took a step back. “I’m going out on a date...” “Really?” “Yes...” “You sure about that?” He shut the door and moved forward. “Jonathan, I’m—” I felt his lips against mine, his arms possessively folding around me. I murmured as he slid his hands underneath my dress, as he whispered, “You’re not going anywhere” against my neck. My knees started to buckle and he caught me before I could fall. He assaulted my mouth with his tongue until I couldn’t breathe, and then he carried me upstairs to my room. “You’re still mine.” He tossed me onto the bed and moved on top of me. “You’ll always be mine.” He kissed me again and again, making me moan at the passionate touches I’d been missing all these months. “I meant to say I love you too...” I choked out once he let my lips go. “I love you too...” He ripped my dress off and kissed a line down my stomach. “Then why’d you leave me?” “Ahhh...” I felt his tongue swirling between my thighs, preventing me from answering. “You shouldn’t have left me.” He unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off. Then he moved back up and straddled me, looking deep into my eyes. “You really shouldn’t have done that.” He pushed his dick into me—taking his time entering, sliding in inch by inch. “Please....” “Please what, Claire? Give you what you want even though you don’t deserve it?” He wasn’t even halfway inside yet; he was teasing my nipples with his tongue, enjoying my frustration. “Please, just—” The loud ring of the doorbell interrupted my sentence. “Just fuck me...” “Shouldn’t you go get the door?” He raised his eyebrow. “It’s probably your date.” I shook my head. “Why not?” He slid in further. “It’s not nice to keep him waiting.” Before I could respond, he buried himself deep inside of me and I wrapped my legs around him. He thrust into me wildly—kissing my lips to stifle my screams, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Mom! Mom!” Caroline called from the other side of my door. “Damien’s outside!” Jonathan smiled and slowed his rhythm. He pushed my legs away from his waist and rolled over so I was on top of him. “Move.” I did as I was told, rocking my hips against him, leaning down to kiss his lips—not ever wanting to stop, but then my door opened and in walked Caroline—then Ashley. “Um, Damien is downstairs...” “We told him to wait in the living room.” My eyes widened and I gasped. I reached for a blanket to pull over my body and looked down at Jonathan—only he wasn’t there. It was only a dream. It was only a dream?! My chest tightened and tears formed at the corner of my eyes. I rolled off my bed and onto the floor, staring straight ahead. “Do you want us to tell him you’re not here?” “We should tell him that anyway...” “Why? I thought we agreed that we liked him.” “We do, but I don’t think she does...He is pretty hot though.” “You think he’s as hot as Jonathan?” “Ha! No! But if she ever asks, we should say yes to make her feel better.” “Hmmm. Okay.” “Well, I don’t think I’m allowed out of my room for more than five minutes so you should probably go tell him that she’s not—” “No, it’s okay...” I stood up. “Thank you.”

Chapter 31 Claire I rearranged my clothes in the hotel suite’s closet for the umpteenth time and shut the doors. Bored, I walked into the living room and sat across from Damien. “Is that five or six shipments?” He gave me an apologetic smile as he continued to talk on the phone. “Can you get that verified by receiving please? Yeah...No, I’m at the Juniper conference...Seven days, so that gives you plenty of time to figure out what’s going on...Alright. Keep me posted.” He set his phone down and sighed. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” “It’s okay. It’s a working vacation. I completely understand.” “Come here.” He locked his eyes on mine and I walked over, prepared to sit in the other chair, but he pulled me into his lap. “Are you okay? You didn’t say much on the way over...” I stilled. I didn’t think he’d noticed that since his music had been so loud. I’d kept my head turned towards the window for the entire two hour drive, wondering why I’d agreed to come here when I was still so wrapped up in someone else. “I’m just a little stressed,” I said. “I guess I just need to relax.” “Hmmm.” He pressed his head against the back of my shoulder. “Do you want to do something to relax together then?” “Depends on what it is...” He ran his hands up and down my hips and kissed the back of my neck, making my body yearn for more. “Lay down with me?” I nodded and eased out of his lap. He clasped my hand and led me into the bedroom, pulling the covers back and using the remote to dim the lights. He disappeared for a moment and I decided to get more comfortable. I took off my earrings, slid out of my shoes, and suddenly felt him unbuttoning my pants from behind. I felt my nerves running wild, but not out of desire or anticipation; it was out of anxiety. Why do I feel like this is “cheating”? He spun me around and unfastened my shirt and my bra, sliding them off my shoulders as he looked into my eyes. Then he smiled and pulled me onto the bed. Motioning for me to get in first, he started to undress himself, leaving nothing but his briefs on. I climbed into the bed and sighed as he climbed in behind me, as he started to press kisses along my bare back. I rolled around to face him. “I don’t know if I can—” He cut my words short with a deep and inviting kiss, making me forget whatever I was about to say. I tried to hold back, tried to resist, but I couldn’t help it; I kissed him back—letting my tongue dip deeper into his mouth, running my hands against his hard chest. He tore his mouth away from mine and began kissing down my neck, my collarbone, my breasts. He sucked one of my nipples into his mouth and softly bit it, making me cry out in pleasure. Ohhh....Jonathan... He gripped my other breast and kneaded it with his palm, using his fingertips to pinch the most sensitive part. Before I knew it, he’d started moving his kisses down my stomach—past my belly button, and another memory of Jonathan crossed my mind:

Jonathan pulled his mouth away from mine. “I love kissing your lips, Claire...” “Which set?” “Both.” He ran his hands against my bare thighs. “Well...” I stifled a moan as he started to move his lips lower and lower. “Which one is better?” “I believe it’s a tie, but I’ll do a comparison right now to make sure...” I felt Damien attempting to pull my pants down as he placed another kiss against my navel. “Wait.” I sat up and folded my arms across my chest. “We can’t...” “What?” He kissed my stomach again and looked up at me. “Why not?” “I’m...” I needed one hell of an excuse. As much as I wanted to deny it, my body was on fire and I knew he could feel it. “I’m on my period this week... I’m sorry that I didn’t—” “Is that why you’ve been so tense today?” He raised his eyebrow. “You think the only reason I invited you was to have sex? Or that if we didn’t have sex this week I wouldn’t be interested in you anymore?” Um yeah. “Um...” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Claire. I’m not usually this forward and I don’t want to rush things with you at all. It’s just...Being around you sometimes, it’s hard to control myself.” He smiled as he re-buttoned my pants. “You wouldn’t believe the effect you have on me...” He moved so he was lying next to me and kissed my cheek. “Will your period prevent you from letting me hold you?” I laughed. “No...I would like that very much.” He wrapped his arms around me and I leaned back against him, not feeling comforted at all; his embrace wasn’t the one I needed.

I emerged from the bathroom in a long purple dress, one of Jonathan’s purchases from months ago. I figured I might as well put all the dresses he bought me to use; they were all too elegant to wear to anything else. “Wow...” Damien stood up once I walked into the living room. “I’m not so sure about going to this ball now...” “Why is that?” “Because someone might try to steal you away from me...You look too good to be true.” He looked me up and down. “I think the highlight of the week will be getting to see you in a different dress every night.” He kissed my lips and led me out into the hallway, onto the elevator. We were heading to the seventy fifth floor ’s “sky room,” to attend the conference’s welcoming ball. He’d told me that all the power players needed to make an appearance and that it was pretty much an opportunity for the CEOs to show off their dates and size up the competition. If it were up to me, I would be back in our suite scarfing down the cartons of mint chocolate chip ice cream I’d ordered, not rubbing noses with the elite. Nonetheless, I’d already talked him out of making me go to the “Ladies Only Meet and Greet” and I didn’t want to push my luck. He held the door to the ballroom open, and as soon as we stepped inside, I had to hold back a gasp. The sky room was colossal—it looked like it was large enough to hold an entire football field; its ceiling and walls were made of plated black glass and I counted at least twenty silver chandeliers hanging several feet above our heads. There was even a massive stage at the far end that stretched across the room’s imposing walls. Damien held me against his side as we walked around the room, as he introduced me to each of his friends and colleagues as his “girlfriend.”

“Wow...” “Where’d you find someone like this to put up with you?” “She’s too pretty for you.” “If you ever get tired of him, I’d be happy to take you out, Miss Gracen.” “She’s a vision, Damien...” I smiled at all his friend’s compliments, and once he and his CFO started discussing acquisitions, I excused myself to the beverage bar that lined the side of the room. As I was pouring myself a glass, the lights above flickered and everyone started clapping. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 2013 Juniper Conference!” A woman walked on stage with a mic in her hand. “Over the next few days, we’ll all be sharing our ideas on the direction of technology advancement, relaxing at one of the retreat’s many spas, and trying not to kill each other since we’re all fierce competitors.” The room erupted in laughter. “Tonight’s opening ball was generously sponsored by Lowell Enterprises. Unfortunately, Mr. Lowell’s flight has been delayed so he’s asked for his former apprentice to make the opening statements instead.” I looked around to make sure no one was watching me and poured an extra pint of vodka into my drink. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome founder and CEO of Statham Industries, Jonathan Statham!” The crowd cheered and I dropped my glass onto the floor, turning around to look for him. Jonathan walked onto the stage from the side, smiling at the applause, surveying the crowd. He waved at the people who were playfully screaming his name, stopping to make eye contact and say “hello” with those he knew personally. As he continued to look over the audience, his gaze veered towards the beverage bar and his eyes met mine. He stopped walking and blinked. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then he turned towards the crowd again and smiled as he took to the podium. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke. “Good evening,” the crowd responded. “As many of you know, this week is about fostering new friendships, and rekindling ones that may have gotten lost in the madness that is technological advancement. That said, I’m looking forward to reconnecting with all of you—no, just a few of you...” The crowd laughed. “Mr. Lowell isn’t a man of many words and he only wanted me to say a few things: Let’s make sure that this conference is as unforgettable as the ones that came before it, and that tonight—the first night—is all pleasure and no business whatsoever. We have all week for that.” He flipped over a notecard. “To the newest attendees, be sure to network with those who are in your same field and choose your morning sessions very wisely. To those who have been here before, I’m sure I don’t need to say much about how this works. And to those who are here with a date,” he said as his eyes met mine again, “there are plenty of things for you to do here during the day if you choose not to accompany your date to the tech events. Thank you all so much. Enjoy the rest of your night.” He kept his eyes on me as the audience clapped, and then he walked off the stage, shaking hands with whoever stepped in front of him. I turned around and made myself another drink. Then I felt an arm wrap around my waist. Jonathan? “So, this is where you disappeared.” Damien laughed. “Are you having a good time so far?” “Yes.” I need to get out of here...“Could you tell me where the restrooms—” I felt Jonathan getting close before I could see him. That electrical current that rushed through my veins whenever he was nearby suddenly shocked me into silence. “What were you saying, Claire?”

“Good evening, Mr. Edwards.” Jonathan’s deep voice made both of us turn around. “It’s interesting to see you again.” “Well, well well, it’s Jonathan Statham.” Damien pulled me closer, making Jonathan clench his jaw. “I’m shocked you didn’t bring up your new sPhone red in your speech. Are you actually becoming classier or are you taking classes on how not to be an asshole?” “I’m taking classes—from the same lawyer who handles your divorces. Has he prevented your exwife from suing you for all your worth yet or wait—how many ex-wives do you exactly have now? Three? Four? Are we counting the six week wife from Vegas these days?” “Touché.” Damien rolled his eyes. “Claire, this is the royal pain in my ass I’ve been telling you about—Jonathan Statham, and Jonathan, this is my girlfriend, Claire Gracen.” “Girlfriend?” “Yes, girlfriend. She used to work as a director in your marketing department. Small world, right?” “Too small.” “Mr. Edwards?” A woman tapped Damien’s shoulder. “We have Tamisha J. from our overseas headquarters here to see you. She wants a quick picture if you don’t mind.” “Not at all.” He kissed my cheek. “Be right back, sweetheart. Jonathan...” He walked away. I looked up at Jonathan and we stared at one another, not saying a word for what felt like an eternity. My heart was pounding against my chest, my nerves were jumping up and down, and the palpable electricity between us was pulling me closer and closer to him. Even though his eyes were cold and his lips were pressed into a subtle scowl, he looked sexier than he’d ever looked before. I took a few steps forward, without taking my eyes off him, and tried to keep it together. “Jonathan...I am so sor—” “I didn’t leave you with my competition for too long did I?” Damien pulled me against his side. He kissed my cheek again and I could see a vein in Jonathan’s neck swelling. “Have you heard about Hannigan from TruCorp, Jonathan?” He didn’t wait for him to respond. “Differences aside, I think he’s really onto something with his new data configuration board. It looks pretty promising.” “I’ll have to look into that.” Jonathan stated dryly. “Thank you, Damien.” “What are bitter rivals for? I’m actually glad you decided to show up here for a change. It’ll make for a more interesting week.” “Yes.” Jonathan narrowed his eyes at me. “It will definitely be interesting.”

Chapter 32 Claire Coming here is the worst decision I’ve ever made... I was sitting near the edge of the resort’s private beach, pretending to read my e-reader, but secretly watching Jonathan walk alongside the shore with another woman. However, this woman wasn’t just any woman. She was Stacy Rodriguez, world class supermodel and designer extraordinaire. She was easily one of the sexiest women in the world—beautifully tanned and slim body with naturally huge breasts, wavy jet black hair, and dark gray eyes with speckles of light blue that glimmered in the sunlight. I’d been watching her and Jonathan all day: At the conference’s first breakfast, they’d sat too close for comfort, laughing at little private jokes that I’d strained to hear. While Damien and I were taking a tour of the art gallery, I’d looked down from the windows and saw the two of them having a private picnic on a blanket below. I’d even seen the two of them driving carts around the resort’s perfectly trimmed golf course while we were eating our lunch. “Stop it, Jonathan!” She squealed as he tossed her into the water. I jumped up, tempted to run over there and slap him for letting her get that close to him, for letting her touch him. Yet, I quickly sat back down, realizing that too many people were around and I didn’t want to make a scene. Jealous, I put down my e reader and narrowed my eyes at the sappy scene that was playing in front of me. How can he possibly be upset with me about Damien when he’s dating a damn supermodel? And of all supermodels, Stacy Rodriguez, the most famous one? “Daiquiri?” Damien stood in front of me with an umbrella drink. “Please.” “You’ll have to pay me for it first...” “What? What do you—” He bent down and kissed me—a slow, passionate, ‘I-know-this-is-making-you-melt’ kiss. He tilted my chin up, pushing his tongue further and further into my mouth, softly biting down on my bottom lip each time I tried to control the pace. I didn’t care though; I kept trying to force him to let me take the lead. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressed myself against him, and let my tongue explore every inch of his mouth. “Whoa...” Damien pulled away from me. “Kiss me like that again and we’ll have to lock ourselves in the suite for the rest of the week.” He smiled and handed me the drink. I took a sip and saw Jonathan staring at me out the corner of my eye, knowing that he’d just seen me kiss Damien. His fists were balled at his side, his face was a deadly red, and his eyes were thin slits. He took a few steps in my direction but Stacy grabbed his hand and tugged him down the shore. “Are you okay, Claire?” Damien put his arm around my shoulder. “Is something wrong with the drink?” “The drink is great...” I tore my eyes away from Stacy and Jonathan. “What other events are happening today?”

“Well, I have a few tech sessions to go to this evening, but there’s the late night benefit ball at midnight.” “There’s literally a ball every night this week? I thought you were joking...” “I wasn’t. It’s a tax break thing.” He laughed. “There’s an early entry for the highest contributors, so you and I will have to be there a little early.” “What happens at early entry?” “It’s just a bit more intimate than the regular ball—dimmer lights, small candle-lit dinner, and first dibs on the silent auction items. If you want anything that’s up for bid, let me know and I’ll buy it for you.” “Oh, I probably won’t even go near—” He pulled me on top of him. “You should...And you should let me buy whatever you want.” He placed a light kiss on my lips. “I want you to enjoy yourself this week so don’t be shy about doing things that make you happy.” He began rubbing my back and I looked over my shoulder—to see if Jonathan was watching, but Damien turned my head back around to face him. He slipped his tongue into my mouth again and all my thoughts blurred, leaving me lost once more.

“Just like that, Claire...Two steps forward, one step back...Very good...” Damien spun me out of his arms and quickly drew me back. “You’re a wonderful dancer, Claire. Did you learn or are you a natural?” “I learned...” “Well, whoever taught you is one hell of a teacher. I’m impressed.” He placed his hands around my waist and I leaned against his chest. As we waltzed around the dance floor, I started to wonder if I could develop feelings for him with time, if he and I might have a chance after all. He’d been extra attentive ever since we left the beach: He skipped one of his tech meetings to join me at my massage appointment, arranged for me to take an evening horse riding lesson, and even helped me pick out which dress I should wear tonight. I leaned against his chest and looked out over the room. It was dark with a few massive candles providing the only light. On the far end of the room—in a corner that was illuminated by a yellow haze, a group of violinists played a beautiful song that reverberated throughout the space. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the lead violinist said as her companions continued to play, “we have a lot more songs that we’re going to play for you tonight, but we want you to know that the lights are about to be slightly brightened since the early entry portion of the ball has ended.” The few people that were in the room clapped and the lights became a tad bit brighter. I looked around for Jonathan—I could feel him watching me, but I could only see ten other people in the room and he wasn’t one of them. Why does it “feel” like he’s here though? I heard a soft clicking sound, and the doors at the back of the room opened, allowing a large group of tuxedo-clad and ball gown wearing guests into the room. “As is tradition at the benefit ball, the first fifteen minutes of dance should be with someone that you don’t know. Once everyone is inside, my companions and I will make play three harsh chords to indicate that it’s time to find someone new to dance with, and the lights will dim again.” The room started to become louder and louder as the other attendees continued to pour in, and Damien held me tighter—as if he was protecting me from everyone else. “I’m not sure if I want to dance with anyone else tonight,” he whispered. “Do you?”

“No...” He kissed my forehead and laughed softly. “Okay, well we won’t. I’ll keep you all to myself. I don’t want—” “Mr. Edwards?” a woman said his name and we both turned around. “I’m sorry to interrupt you sir, but that shipment you asked about the other day is...” She looked at me and then back at him. “Can I speak to you about this in private?” “Can it wait?” She shrugged. “Sure, a twenty million dollar shipment that was inaccurately re-routed can simply...wait.” He sighed and looked at me. “Would you please excuse me, sweetheart? I won’t be gone for too long...Don’t give away any dances.” He lifted my hand and kissed it before walking away. “Screechhh! Screechhh! Screechhh!” The violinists scratched their violins to signal the “new dance partner” portion, and then they began to play a beautiful harmony. The lights began to dim again—almost as dark as they were before, and I heard more instruments —flutes, horns, saxophones, joining in on the violinists’ serenade. I walked towards the table Damien and I had shared at the candlelit dinner, weaving my way past dancing couples, but before I could sit down, I felt someone grabbing me by my waist. I tried to push the strong hands away, but it was no use. The hands gripped me even tighter and I felt myself being pulled up against a familiar chest. Jonathan. He didn’t say a word. He spun me around so we were facing one another and stared at me. He put my arms around his neck and slipped his arms around my waist, looking into my eyes with an expression I couldn’t recognize. Then he began to dance with me, but it wasn’t smooth and gentle like it used to be. It was rough. He gripped my sides too hard, twirled me without any finesse, and pushed me away whenever it was time to pull me close. As he pushed me away again, I realized that I needed to say something before he purposely dropped me to the floor. “It must be nice to have a world class supermodel on your arm.” I tried not to sound jealous. “I bet you two have been having a really good time in your suite since you’ve been here...” “We have.” What? I tried to untangle myself from his arms, but he dipped me low to the ground and held me there, glaring at me, daring me to say something else. I tucked my lips into my mouth. He pulled me up and continued the angry rhythm he’d established, refusing to let me go. Then he suddenly stopped dancing altogether. “Have you slept with him?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Who?” “Don’t fuck with me, Claire. Have. You. Slept. With. Him?” “Define slept with.” He pulled me close and gripped my sides so firmly that I could barely breathe. “You fucked him?” “You slept with Stacy Rodriguez. Why do you care what I do?” He spun me out of his arms. “I don’t.” But from the look in his eyes, I knew that he did, that he wanted—needed me to say that it wasn’t true. “I don’t need to do this to myself.” He dropped my hands and shook his head. “Forgive me for interrupting your night, Claire. I wish you well and I—” “I didn’t sleep with him.” He blinked.

“I was too wrapped up in someone else to do that...But that someone else has clearly moved on, so maybe tonight I should go ahead and—” “Stacy is just a friend.” “You two look like a lot more than friends...Friends don’t put their arms around each other or play around like you two have been doing.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s just a friend.” He placed my arms around his neck again and picked up the dance where we left off. “Of all the men you could’ve dated after me, you chose Damien Edwards?” “I didn’t know I needed your approval for whoever I choose to date.” “Seeing as though you were only supposed to be dating me, I’m sure you can see why I would be upset with your poor decision-making skills. You can do a lot better than him.” “Taking dating advice from an ex-boyfriend? How appropriate.” “I never did get a chance to buy you that thesaurus...” He tugged at the bow on the back of my gown. “Does your new boyfriend know that I bought you this dress?” “He doesn’t know about you at all.” He twirled me around. “Does he make you happy? I didn’t say anything. I continued dancing with him, trying to read his eyes and force the words I wanted to say out of my mouth. “I’m...I’m sorry that I left you, Jonathan.” He stopped moving. “Excuse me?” “I’m sorry that I left you...” He sighed and twirled me again, not saying anything in response. He kept swaying me to the beat, acting as if I hadn’t said anything important. I felt tears welling in my eyes and jerked out of his arms. “You don’t believe me? I really am sorry...I didn’t mean to hurt—” “You did. You left me for a bullshit reason and you never even tried to explain what had been going on between you and my mother.” His eyes turned to slits. “And the next time I happen to see you, you’re wrapped up in my competitor ’s arms and his tongue is ten feet down your throat. You saying ‘I’m sorry’ is supposed to fix that? I haven’t been able to think about another woman, let alone date one since you left me. Yet, here you are with Damien Edwards, damn near having sex on the beach.” “It’s not what you think...” I tried not to cry. “I was wishing he was you the entire time.” “So you did fuck him?” He hissed. “Because if he were me, that’s exactly what you would be doing.” “No...” He rolled his eyes. “It took everything I had not to drag you out of that room at the opening ball, Claire. You’re lucky some of my investors are here because if they weren’t, I swear to God I would’ve grabbed you by your—” “Jonathan—” “Your nerve is un-fucking-believable. If I wasn’t so angry with you, I’d fuck you right here so you could feel exactly how—” “I love you, Jonathan.” I leaned forward and pressed my finger against his lips. “I don’t have any feelings for Damien and I don’t want to be with him. I’m only using him to get over you, and I am sorry for leaving...I really am...I don’t expect me saying that to magically erase what I did, but it’s the truth.” He was silent for a while. “Why did you come here with him at all? You knew there was a chance that I would be here.” “I didn’t...”

“What’s your excuse for kissing him in front of me then? You knew damn well that I was watching you...” “I was mad at you for letting Stacy get that close to you. I wanted to make you jealous...” “I was already jealous...” He clasped my hands and started to dance with me again, staring into my eyes. As we moved across the floor, he rubbed the small of my back and sighed. “How are Ashley and Caroline?” “They’re doing okay...Caroline has a boyfriend now, and Ashley’s currently grounded for taking my car without permission. I actually enjoyed having her home this past weekend. She helped keep my mind off—” “Me?” I nodded. “I’ve missed you so much...I don’t know what I have to do to make you believe me but —” “Prove it...” “Fine,” I whispered. “Kiss me.” “In public?” His eyes lit up. He looked like he couldn’t believe the words I’d just said. “Just because I’m about to kiss you doesn’t change how angry I am.” He smiled as he pulled me closer. “You’ve pushed me to a limit that I didn’t even know I had.” “I didn’t realize how much you meant to me, Jonathan.” My lips were inches away from his now. “Can we leave right now? We can disappear before Damien gets back and before the lights go up so people won’t know what’s going on. I just want to be with you and—” “Three. Fucking. Months.” He dropped his arms from around me and stepped back. What? “I—” “You haven’t said a word to me in three months and you’re still worried about being seen with me? Are you fucking serious? All that stuff you just said about missing me and wanting me back and you’re still stuck on this we-can’t-be-seen-together-in-public shit?” “I’m sorry...I just thought that—” “That I would come running after you like I always do? That I would force myself to be in your life when you made it perfectly clear that that’s not what you wanted? What the fuck were you thinking?” He looked hurt. “Jonathan, I’m—” “Did you consider my feelings at all? Did you think I wouldn’t believe you if you told me about my mother? I would have. And I would’ve put a stop to it the second you told me about it.” “I—” “I’m done playing games with you, Claire. There are a lot of things that I can get over rather quickly, but this bullshit isn’t one of them. I want you to choose.” “What? What are you saying?” “If you want to be with me like you say you do, and you really are in love with me like I’m in love with you, I need you to choose me over Damien.” “I do. I just did. Can’t you—” “In front of him, with the lights on.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I think you’re still scared about us being seen together publicly, like you’ve been from the beginning. In the past, I was fine with that because I’m sensitive to things you’re sensitive about, but...I’ve told you that I don’t half-ass anything and I’m not going to put up with it anymore. I’ve done everything to show you that I want you and that I love you. It’s your turn. Choose.” As if on cue, the lights in the room brightened to white and Damien wrapped his arms around me from behind.

“I’m sorry again, sweetheart.” He kissed the back of my neck. “You weren’t alone for too long were you?” I shook my head. “No...” “Oh, I see you’ve found my favorite person. Again.” Damien shrugged. “Did you come to the conference alone, Jonathan? Where’s your date?” “I’m not sure.” Jonathan looked directly at me. “Miss Gracen, have you seen the woman I’m supposed to be with?” Everything suddenly fell silent. It felt like the only people in the room were me, Jonathan, and Damien. “Did you say something, Miss Gracen?” Jonathan raised his eyebrow. “Have you seen who I belong with? The woman who wants to be with me and only me?” My heart was racing and my palms were beginning to sweat. I swallowed, looking all around the room. “Yes...” I panicked. “She’s over by the bar...” He nodded his head slowly, saying “I’m done,” with his eyes. “Thank you very much...I guess I didn’t notice her walk by us...All differences aside,” he said as he reached out for Damien’s hand, “that was one hell of a demonstration you put on this afternoon. I wish I had thought of that wireless addition first.” Damien shook his hand. “Thank you very much. That actually means a lot coming from you. Wait, you’re not going to try and steal it from me are you?” “No. I already tried to steal what I wanted.” He reached out for my hand and shook it. “It was very nice seeing you again, Miss Gracen. I wish you both well.” And with that, he walked away. “Hmmm. Maybe he is becoming classier.” Damien laughed. “Would you like to continue our dance now?” “Yes...” My voice cracked. As he pulled me close and swayed me to the music, I buried my head in his chest and held back tears.

Why didn’t I just say “She’s right here? I’m sorry Damien, but I’m in love with Jonathan...I want to be with him.” Why couldn’t I just say that? I’d been playing that scene in my mind all night, wishing I could rewind time and take what I said back. I even went looking for Jonathan after the ball ended, attempting to get a do over, but his security guards wouldn’t let me get close enough. I sniffled against my pillow for the umpteenth time and felt Damien moving his arms from around me. “Claire?” He stepped out of bed and hit the lights. “Why are you crying?” “I’m not...I’m not crying...” I choked back another sob. “My allergies just make it look that way sometimes...” “Would you like me to have room service bring you something?” “No...” “I can make you some tea.” He sat on the edge of the bed and caressed my hand. “Would you like some?” I sniffled. “Sure... Um, would you mind if I went down to the gift shop for a second?” “What do you need? I can have someone bring it up.” “Benadryl, but I could use the walk...Alone...” He reached over me and pulled a few Kleenex off the nightstand. “Come here.” He pulled me up by my arms so I was sitting upright. “When you get back from the shop, I want you to tell me the truth

about why you’re crying, okay? Whatever it is, I want to know. I can fix it if you let me.” No, you can’t...“Okay,” I murmured as he placed a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be right back.” I slid out of the bed and grabbed my robe. I waited until I saw him disappear into the kitchen and walked out of the suite. As soon as the door shut, I ran down the hallway—straight to the elevators. I knew Jonathan was staying in the presidential suite—I’d overheard someone mention that at the ball, so I hoped I could catch him before he went to sleep. I pressed “PS” once I stepped onto the elevator and tried to calm my shaking hands as it moved from floor to floor. The doors opened and I prepared to run down the hall, but I was greeted by a bellman in an allwhite suit. “Good evening Miss. How may I help you?” “I need to see Jonathan Statham.” “Do you have an access key for this floor?” “No...” “Well, I’m afraid I can’t let you go any further ma’am. This is an access only floor. Perhaps if you called his handler and asked to be placed on the approved visitors list...” His voice trailed off. “I really need to see him. It’s important.” “My hands are tied, Miss. I can’t just let anyone beyond that door.” He motioned to the door that hid the rest of the floor from view. “It’s for presidential suite guests and approved visitors only. It’s not up for discussion.” I broke down in tears. “Please, just...I know you don’t know me at all, but I have to talk to him. It’s a matter of—” “Would you like me to call him for you?” He looked concerned. I nodded and he pulled a phone out of his pocket. “Mr. Statham, this is Mr. Collins. I’m the bellman on your floor and I’m calling because—Yes, my daughter did receive those chocolates you sent yesterday. Thank you very much...Ah, yes I’m calling because I have a woman here to see you. She says it’s important, but we have a strict policy on presidential suite guests...” He looked up at me. “What’s your name Miss?” “Claire Gracen.” “Her name is Claire Gracen, Mr. Statham...Yes...Oh, I see...Well, thank you sir. I apologize for interrupting your night. I’ll see you in the morning.” He put his phone back in his pocket. “He said he’s not familiar with you, Miss Gracen. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave now. He’s a very valued guest and I don’t want to upset him any further.” “He does know me! I’m his—” “He said he’s never heard of you before, Miss. Those were his words verbatim. Now, please leave before I call security.” My heart crumbled. I was speechless. I couldn’t even think. I stepped back onto the elevator and rode it down to the lobby—inspired to get the Benadryl more than ever so I could try to sleep this pain away. He doesn’t know me? How can he say that? Is he that upset about earlier? I let more tears fall down my face as I stepped off and headed towards the gift shop. I saw Greg ordering around a group of suited men and rushed over. I blurted, “I need to speak to Jonathan and they won’t let me up to the presidential suite.” “Excuse me for one minute, gentlemen.” He pulled me away from the group and raised his eyebrow. He reached into his jacket and handed me a handkerchief. “Would you like me to deliver the message for you, Miss Gracen?”

“No, I...It’s a really personal message. Can you take me up there with you? I’m sure if the guard saw me with you he would—” “He doesn’t want to be bothered by anyone for the remainder of the conference, Miss Gracen. Those were his exact words to me.” “Please, Greg...I need to—” “He wants to be alone.” His voice was clipped. “Please.” I cried. “I know we haven’t been together for three months but he means a lot to me. You have to believe that...Please help me...” Sighing, he grabbed my hand and led me around the front desk, greeting all of the managers, showing me a private elevator. He hit the top button and the doors glided open immediately. As the cart rose, he turned to face me. “When you get off, make two lefts and his room will be in front of you. This is the back entrance to his suite, so you’ll have to be quiet or the guard who stands in front of the other elevator will alert me or the hotel’s head security. Understand?” I nodded and the doors opened seconds later. “To the left, Miss Gracen.” I rushed off the elevator and headed for his room. I stood in front of the door for a few seconds, running my fingers across the golden nameplate that bore his name in newly painted cursive. I knocked once. No answer. I knocked twice. Nothing. I knocked again and again, louder and louder with each try. “Hold on! Hold on!” A woman’s voice came from the other side of the door. There was some shuffling, and then the door swung open. “Oh...It’s you.” Stacy Rodriguez stood in front of me wearing a light blue slip with her hair tousled all over her head. Did he just have sex with her? She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Jonathan!” She glared at me before walking back inside. “He’ll be right out, Claire.” I began to count the seconds with nervous taps of my foot. I was on the verge of more tears when I realized that five minutes had gone by. I took a step forward, tempted to step inside and confront him, but I saw him walk across the room. He took a long sip from his glass and slammed it down on the table. Then he turned towards me. He came to the door and stared into my eyes, expressionless. He opened his mouth to speak, but then he shook his head and started to close the door. “Wait!” I held my hand against the doorknob. “Please listen to me, Jonathan! I am so sorry—I didn’t know what to say! You caught me off guard and you know I’m—you know I’m not the publictype but that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. I do. And I want to be with you. Please just...I’ll go get Damien, bring him here, and tell him that—” “Miss Gracen, I don’t have time for any unscheduled meetings. I have enough on my plate this week with seminars and tech demonstrations.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his business card, handing it to me. “Feel free to schedule a meeting with my secretary at your earliest convenience. However, I’m booked through the end of the year so don’t expect an immediate appointment.” “What? Jonathan, you can’t be serious. Please let me—” “Security?” He held his phone up to his ear. “I have an unapproved guest bothering me at my suite and I’m not exactly sure where she came from or where she belongs.”

I gasped. “Enjoy the rest of the conference, Miss Gracen.” He shut the door in my face. “Wait!” I knocked on the door again, as forcefully as I could manage. “Open the door, Jonathan! You didn’t mean that! Come back! Come back!” I started kicking at it, twisting at the doorknob, screaming at the top of my lungs. Before I knew it, Greg was picking me up and carrying me back onto the private elevator. “Put me down, Greg! I need to talk to him! Don’t let him do this to me! He said he doesn’t know me and you know that’s not true!” I’d never behaved so erratically in my life. “Please! I need to tell him I’m sorry again! He didn’t understand me! Please! Please!” He set me down on the floor as soon as the doors shut and hit fifty two—Damien’s floor. He ignored my pleas and kept his face completely stoic. When the doors opened again, he gently grabbed me by my shoulders and walked me down the hall to my room. He pulled another handkerchief from his jacket, and as if he knew that I was too broken to do anything but cry, he wiped away my tears as they fell—waiting until they’d completely stalled. He reached into his pocket and handed me a bottle of Benadryl. “I suggest you tell Mr. Edwards that you were lost and ended up at the gift shop on the other side of the resort. He called the front desk twice, wondering if you’d bought your medicine yet.” My hands shook as I clasped the bottle. “Thank you, Greg...Um, I know you don’t have any obligation to me but....Could I ask you for a favor?” “Anything, Miss Gracen.” “Could you tell Jonathan that I said, ‘I love you’? And that I meant it when I told him that?” He looked sympathetic. “Of course, Miss Gracen. Have a good night.” He patted my shoulder and walked away.

Chapter 33 Claire My reflection was lying to me. Again. She was showing me a happy woman in bright red lipstick and bronze eye shadow, a woman who looked like she was having the time of her life—not a heartbroken woman who’d spent every night this week crying herself to sleep. You can do this...You can do this... I screwed the top onto my mascara and placed it into a bag. I stepped back from the mirror and twirled around in my dress—the sparkling nude colored one that Jonathan had picked out months ago, the one I would’ve worn to the IPO ball. I’d hoped that by wearing it tonight, he would at least acknowledge my existence. Ever since I’d snuck up to his room a few nights ago, he’d gone out of his way to avoid me: He and Stacy were supposed to sit at our table all week for the daily breakfasts, but he had his seat changed. He was supposed to present Damien with an award at the Value Ball two nights ago, but he claimed he had an emergency, so he created a video for the audience to view instead. I saw him a few times in the hallways, and each time I would walk towards him and try to get his attention, but the security guards always kept me from getting too close. “It’s our last night here, sweetheart.” Damien walked into the room and smiled at me. “I see that you’ve saved your best dress for the occasion.” I hate being called “sweetheart.” Why haven’t I told him that? “Do we have to stay at the banquet the entire time?” I asked. I knew Jonathan was set to receive an award, and even though I wanted him to acknowledge me, deep down I knew that he wouldn’t. I didn’t want to sit and suffer as everyone else fawned all over him. “Of course not. We can leave right after the closing statements.” Great... He reached for my hand and we walked out of the room and towards the elevator like we had several times before. “Did you have fun this week?” Damien pressed the down button. “Yes.” “Well, if you’re not still—” The loud ping of the elevators cut off his sentence. “What were you saying?” I walked onto the elevator and noticed Jonathan and Stacy standing together on the other side. Jonathan’s eyes went straight to my dress, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he swore under his breath. “I was saying that if you wanted, you and I could go to another resort next weekend. I promise I’ll turn off my cell phone and focus all my attention on you.” Damien put his arm around my hips. “And you won’t be on your—you know...Would you be interested in that?” “I...” I felt the heat of Jonathan’s glare on my back. “I’ll have to think about it.” “Well, make sure you do that. It’s a wonderful resort, and there’s plenty of amazing water activities. It’s also extremely private.” “Private things are definitely her specialty...” Jonathan muttered.

Damien must not have heard him because he continued. “There’s this beautiful mountain clearing that I’d love to take you to. We could spend the entire day there. There’s also a lover ’s loft nearby.” “Stop it, Jonathan...” Stacy whispered, and I wondered what she was talking about. “It sounds very tempting,” I said as the elevator doors opened. Damien motioned for me to step off first and looked back at Jonathan. “Congratulations, Jonathan. You actually deserve the ‘Innovator of the Year ’ award. Now, freeze that compliment and remember it, because you know as soon as this conference is over, I’ll go back to hating everything about you.” Jonathan smiled. “Thank you, Damien. That makes two of us.”

I sat at the dinner table and picked at my food, too hurt to eat much of anything. Jonathan was sitting directly across from me and he hadn’t looked over at me once. Any time he touched something on the table—butter, bread basket, pepper, I asked if he could pass it to me. But, instead of doing that, Stacy answered for him. She would say, “Of course he can,” and send it my way. I figured that since they were unable to switch their seats for this event, they’d planned a course of action for dealing with me. I even texted him several messages, desperate to get him to look at me—just once: “Please look at me, Jonathan.” “You can’t avoid me forever...” “I said I was in love with you, doesn’t that mean anything?” “Are you really that upset with me?” I saw him look through his phone, saw him read every single message, but he managed to keep his gaze elsewhere. I even tried the more blatant text message approach: “I know you like the way I look in this dress.” “I bet you wish you could take it off of me...” I watched as he read my last two messages, as he glanced at them without a single emotion crossing over his face. “Would you like me to ask my assistant to bring you some food from elsewhere?” Damien looked at my plate. “You haven’t eaten much at all today...I don’t want you to get sick.” “I’m fine. I guess my appetite is a little off today.” I sighed as Jonathan and Stacy whispered something to one another. “At least try the potato dish,” he said. “It’s to die for.” I picked up my fork and began eating some of it, nodding my head at how good it tasted. “See?” Damien patted my thigh. “When do you want to leave?” NOW. “How about right n—” “Mr. Edwards?” A woman poked her head in between us. “We’re setting everything up and we’ll be ready for you in about twenty minutes. Are you ready to present?” “Yes.” He nodded. “I’ll be there shortly.” The woman walked away and I grabbed his hand. “Ready to present what?” “The Innovator of the Year Award. Jonathan presented me with my award the other day so it’s only fair that I present him with his. Even if we don’t see eye to eye, there’s no one else as big in technology as the two of us so—” “So, we can’t leave right now?” He furrowed his brow. “What exactly has been bothering you this week? And don’t say allergies because I don’t think you actually have any.” “Nothing...It’s—” “Are you ever going to tell me why you were crying the other night?” I sighed. “Yes...But could we please go—”

“Mr. Edwards?” That woman came back over again. “We’re going to start things a little earlier. Could you come with me please?” “We’ll leave right after I present the award. Okay, sweetheart?” He kissed my cheek and stood up, walking away from the table. I turned back towards Jonathan, frowning because his eyes were still glued elsewhere. I thought about leaving, heading back to my suite and letting Damien find me there, but for some reason I sat and continued to watch Jonathan and Stacy laugh and whisper at something I couldn’t see. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?” A beautiful brunette tapped the mic onstage. “Before we give away our most prestigious award, I just want to thank you all for making the 2013 Juniper Conference a major success! Because of you, we have raised over ten million dollars for over thirty different charities!” The audience clapped and the speaker waited for the applause to die down. “We hope that the sessions you’ve attended this week have taught you something valuable and that the people you’ve met have instilled a new sense of camaraderie and competitiveness amongst your respective companies. We usually make the closing statements on tonight, the last night of the conference, but due to an immense interest in Chef Roer ’s breakfast this week, we’ve decided to hold them off until tomorrow morning. Chef Roer has graciously agreed to cook an extra breakfast for us all!” The crowd cheered loudly, and Chef Roer stood up from his seat and waved his hand around. Once he sat back down, the crowd gradually became quiet again. “So, before we begin our final ball of the week, I’d like to bring someone we all know and respect to the stage.” She read off a notecard. “This man has singlehandedly changed the way technology influences our everyday lives. He’s a dominating pioneer in the field, and his company—Apple, Inc. is currently valued at one hundred and fifty four billion dollars. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the ‘Developer of the Year,’ Mr. Damien Edwards!” The crowd stood to its feet, clapping and cheering wildly. I stood up too, trying to plot my escape. “If this is the reception I get, I can only imagine what type of response the man I’m presenting will receive.” Damien laughed and motioned for the crowd to sit down. “About eleven years ago, my company was the number one software company in the world. As a young man, I was cocky and honestly didn’t think that reign would ever end. We were ahead of all our competitors by the billions and our workforce was quadruple of the next largest company at the time. One day, I happened to be giving a tour of my company to a select group of college kids who’d been sent from Harvard to complete a summer program. One of those students, who I’ve grown to hate—” He paused as the audience laughed. “One of those students came up to me right after the tour and said the following words, verbatim: ‘Mr. Edwards, with all due respect, your computers suck. You might want to focus on redesigning the internal instruments and building a bigger hard drive before I beat you to it.’ Of course, I laughed this kid off because at the time computers were more about functionality than style, and we offered the largest hard drives on the market...Yet, exactly one year later, Statham Industries was formed and I’ve been regretting my unwillingness to listen to that annoying kid for eleven years.” He laughed. “Ladies and gentlemen, the man I’m bringing to the stage as your unanimous pick for the ‘Developer of the Year” for the tenth year in a row, is a man who finally decided to show up here and accept it.” I felt myself laughing along with the crowd and stopped. “He is a man whose company is currently worth two hundred billion dollars, a man who develops the greatest ideas day in and day out, and a man who always seems to get the best stuff first. If you ever think you’re onto something, he’s probably had it in development years before the thought ever crossed your mind.” He smiled. “Please help me welcome my fiercest competitor and your Developer of the Year, Mr. Jonathan Statham.”

The response to him walking towards the stage was insane; the screams and cheers were deafening and every person was on their feet. He walked on stage with his sexy stroll, smiling at the crowd, shaking Damien’s hand and accepting the crystallized plaque. “Thank you all very much.” He spoke into the mic. “This award means a great deal to me, and I’m sorry it took me so many years to join you here. I promise I’ll make every effort to show up in the years to come...” He looked at his speech. “I have a few people I’d like to thank for inspiring me. First, I’d like to thank Mr. Lowell, the only professor who openly encouraged his own students to drop out,” he said, laughing. “I’d also like to thank my parents who left old devices around the house and helped me to realize what my true talent was...My employees who make me work harder every day, my good friend and head of security Corey Walters, every corporation that I’ve ever partnered with, my worst enemy —Damien Edwards, and most importantly, the woman who has...” He paused, looking at the sheet of paper in his hands as if he couldn’t believe what he’d written. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to thank my good friend Stacy Rodriguez who manages to put up with me through it all. Thank you all very much.” The crowd clapped and remained standing as he put the mic down and began to take pictures with the people onstage. “He’s so sexy...” “I know! I wish I was Stacy Rodriguez tonight!” The two women behind me laughed. My chest tightened as I watched him slip his arm around Stacy, as I watched the two of them smile together and pose for pictures. Tears fell down my face and I made no move to wipe them away. I kept wishing that he would turn around, that he would see my face in the crowd and walk towards me, but he kept posing for pictures —laughing and shaking hands, like he didn’t care about me at all. He pulled Stacy against his side as he prepared for another photo. The flash went off three times and she stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. I’ve had enough of this shit... I pushed my chair up to the table and walked towards the stage, weaving my way through all the suits and adoring women who kept gushing over him. I took the steps on the right side of the stage and paused, looking at Jonathan as he bent down for another kiss from Stacy. “Claire?” Damien grabbed my wrist. “Are you okay? Are you that ready to go? I’ll—” I snatched my hand away from him and walked towards the center of the stage. “And thank you so much for your generous gift, Mr. Statham. My company is so honored that you —” “Excuse me.” I stepped directly in front of the man who was addressing Jonathan. “Yes, Miss Gracen?” Jonathan raised his eyebrow. “Kyle, get security.” I heard someone murmur. “This is the tenth time this week...” I took one step closer to Jonathan and looked into his eyes. I wanted to say something, but the words were trapped in my throat and I couldn’t concentrate with everyone in the audience staring at me. I closed the gap between us and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him as if we were the only people in the room. I heard the crowd’s collective gasp, saw Damien’s jaw drop from the corner of my eye, but I didn’t care. I shut my eyes and kept kissing him, pressing myself against his chest—trying to force his lips apart with my tongue. It wasn’t until I blinked my eyes open that I realized he wasn’t kissing me back.

I drew my arms away and stepped back—noticing that he was still raising his eyebrow at me, confused. I looked out into the silent crowd, blushing bright red as the women began whispering to one another. “I’m...I’m so sorry...” I stammered. “I thought that if I...that if I...” I felt the tears falling. “I’m sorry...I...” I looked around at all the people on the stage, at the angry expression that was on Damien’s face. I turned around to face Jonathan again and shook my head. “I’ll get out of your way now...I...I really am sorry and—” “Don’t be.” He pulled me back into his arms and pressed his lips against mine, suffocating me with a long, appreciative kiss. I could feel his mouth upturned into a smile as he caressed my tongue with his, as he kissed me like there was no tomorrow. “Mr. Statham...” Greg cleared his throat, but Jonathan held me even tighter and kept kissing me. “Mr. Statham? Mr. Statham!” Greg’s voice was firmer, making Jonathan finally pull away. “Yes, Greg?” He grinned at me. “You have a list of other people to take pictures with and speak to tonight. If you would like, I can escort Miss—” “No, I’ll take care of it.” He kissed me one more time and walked over to the people on the other side of the stage. I could only hear fragments of what he was saying—“First thing tomorrow...” “I need to address this now...” “Yes, I’ll sign whatever you want tomorrow...” “I’ll donate double...” “Thank you so much...” The orchestra began to play on the back stage—one of the organizers had frantically run back there once I kissed him, and the crowd slowly diverted their attention from us to the dance floor. I saw him walk over to Stacy and say a few words, and then I felt Damien grabbing my hand. “Is this some type of joke, Claire?” His eyes hardened. “I bring you here and you fuck my competition?” “What?” “Is that what you’ve been doing during the day while I’ve been at meetings? Sleeping with Jonathan Statham behind my back?” He sounded more angry than hurt. “Do you know how what you just did makes me look? Did you even think about that?” “Damien, I’m sorry you had to find out this way but...I’m in love with Jonathan and I have been for a while now...I’m sorry for agreeing to date you when I wasn’t over him. I really do mean—” “This is why I only date younger women. I should’ve known that someone like you with all your baggage—” “Excuse me?” Jonathan wrapped his arm around my waist. “Is there a problem here, Damien?” “No...” Damien seemed to wither a bit. “Are you sure?” Jonathan’s tone was threatening. I’d never heard him this heated before. “Is there something you and I need to discuss outside? It can be arranged...” “Fuck you, Jonathan.” Damien narrowed his eyes at me. “And fuck you too, Claire.” He said something else under his breath as he walked away. “See? I wasn’t lying to you.” Jonathan said. “He wasn’t right for you at all...” He kissed my hair and led me off the stage and out of the ballroom. As we walked towards the elevators, he kept looking down and smiling at me. I wanted to ask what he was smiling about, but I was happy simply seeing him smile again—for whatever reason it was. We rode up to his floor in silence, staring at one another while we held hands, communicating with our eyes.

I wanted him to touch me again, to kiss me again, but it seemed like he was content simply holding back. “Mr. Statham, Miss Gracen,” the bellman said once we arrived. “Have a great evening.” “Thank you,” we said in unison. I followed him to his suite and he pulled me inside, pushing me against the wall as soon as the door shut. “I can’t believe you did that...That was quite shocking...” He pulled a clip out of my hair and kissed my neck. “And why is that?” I moaned as he grazed my skin with his teeth. “The Claire Gracen I know would never run on stage and kiss me like that, especially not with everyone watching...” “The Jonathan Statham I know wouldn’t be analyzing anything that Claire Gracen does.” “That kiss doesn’t excuse you leaving me for three months.” He removed another clip. “I’m still very angry with you...” “I love you too.” He grinned as he looked into my eyes. “Say it again.” “I don’t feel like it right now. I need to take off my dress first, and then I’ll need to think about repeating it.” “Are you being difficult with me on purpose, Claire?” He reached behind me and brushed his fingers against the zipper of my dress. “Say. It. Again.” “After I take my dress off.” “Your dress isn’t coming off.” He unbuckled his pants and pressed his erection against my thigh. “Why not?” He reached underneath my dress and felt around for my panties, smiling when he didn’t find any. “Because I’m going to make love to you while you’re wearing it, and I’m not going to stop until it falls off.” He traced my jawline with his fingertips. “And because it always takes you half an hour to get undressed, and I’ve waited long enough.” He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, gently laying me on the bed. He slid his shirt over his head and stepped out of his pants. Then he slowly moved on top of me. “Now, you know how I feel about repeating myself. That hasn’t changed since you left me, so I’m going to give you one last chance to—” “I love you, Jonathan.” He smiled as he bent down and gently traced my lips with his tongue. “I love you too, Claire.”

I opened my eyes and smiled at Jonathan. I was curled up against him in a huge Jacuzzi, relaxing as his hands lathered shampoo into my hair. I was sure we’d broken the world record for the number of times we’d had sex tonight, and if we hadn’t, I was sure that we would break it tomorrow. I sighed as he poured a wooden ladle over my head to rinse out my hair. He was careful not to let the suds fall anywhere near my eyes, scooping just enough water that the soap fell down my back. “I need you to promise me something, Claire.” He kissed the back of my neck. “What is it?” “That you’ll never leave me again. Once was more than enough.” “I promise.” “Good...” He set the ladle on the ledge. “Because if you go back on your word and even attempt to leave me again, I guarantee I won’t let you stay away for three fucking months. You’ll be lucky if you get away for three minutes.”

“Have I ever told you how romantic you are?” “It’s part of my appeal.” I smiled. “Can I ask you something?” “Always.” “Are you and your mother okay now?” He stilled. “We haven’t been with each other in forever and you care about the person who pulled us apart?” I nodded. “We’re okay,” he said, sighing. “I’m paying for her to get one on one counseling and we see each other once a week over lunch. Maybe with time we’ll do more, but that’s all I can handle right now. I don’t appreciate the way she treated you, and it’ll take me a while to get over that.” My heart swelled. “I was just wondering...” “I really would’ve believed you.” He gripped my hips and swiveled me around so I was facing him, straddling his lap. “You should’ve told me and all this never would’ve happened.” “I know...” “Don’t keep anything like that from me again. We’re not supposed to have boundaries, remember?” He kissed my lips and I nodded. He picked up a loofah from the side of the tub and brushed it against my arms. He massaged my wrists and brought my right hand up to his face. “How did this happen?” He circled a purple bruise with his thumb. “I was running on the bridge one night and I slipped over some glass on the sidewalk. I used my wrist to brace the fall and nearly broke it on the way down. I had cuts everywhere.” His jaw tensed. “When was this?” “It was three or four weeks ago. Strangest thing though: As soon as I fell, these two guys came out of nowhere and bandaged all my cuts up. They even carried me back to my car...They said they were EMTs out on a late night jog and always carried their backpacks just in case something like that happened...Crazy coincidence, huh?” “Extremely crazy.” The muscles in his face relaxed and he washed me until I was clean. “Your turn, sweetheart.” I rolled my eyes and laughed. I reached over to grab another loofah and saw a thick ring band on the ledge. It was silver and it had the engravings of all the same charms I had in the necklace he’d given me—even the white and red flags. The only difference was that the entwined “M” and “L” were repeated twice and our names were etched in tiny cursive within each letter. “You had a ring made to match my charm necklace?” He nodded. “I was going to show it to you the day you left me...I wanted us to open our boxes together.” “Hmmm.” I ran the loofah against his chest. “What do the “M” and the “L” stand for?” “I never said anything about that to you before?” “No...” I shook my head. “Well, guess.” “My love?” “No.” He kissed my shoulder. “Mid-life?” “No.” “Mid-life love?” “Mid-life love?” He raised his eyebrow. “You think I would honestly give you something that stood for that?”

“No, but...” I shrugged. I couldn’t think of anything else. “Tell me what it means then...” He sighed and took the loofah away from me. He pulled me against his chest and kissed my hair, running his fingertips against my lips. “My last.”

The End

Wasted Love Excerpt ***subject to change before publication*** “Don’t get married at eighteen, Autumn...You’ll regret it...”—My mother, six years ago. Chapter 1 Autumn I don’t love my husband—not anymore, anyway. Our flame burnt out a long time ago, and no matter how many times I try to convince myself that it’ll come back, that one day I’ll feel those magic sparks between us again, nothing happens. I married him when I was eighteen years old—when I was young, dumb, and thought I knew everything. I was so wrapped up in the whole “But mom, I love him!” and “He’s the only person I can discuss my deep, dark past with!” that I didn’t realize what I was doing. (By the way, having strict parents who enforce a midnight curfew hardly equates to having a “deep, dark past.”) I don’t even think I’m attracted to my husband anymore. As of matter of fact, he’s on top of me right now, straddling me—thrusting in and out of me, and the only thing I can think about is whether or not I turned off our coffeemaker. I think I hit the switch...Did I hit the switch? “You like that baby?” he asks, bringing his lips close to mine. “You like the way this feels?” “Oh yeahhh.” I moan. Wait. Didn’t I say “Oh yeahhhh” ten seconds ago? Damnit... “Oh, baby.” Say “Oh, baby” next... “Autumnnn.” “Ohhh babyyy...” I run my hands across his back, thinking that I really didn’t turn off that coffeemaker. He speeds up his thrusts, gripping my breasts like he’s attempting to yank them off my body. He’s groaning ferociously now, making some type of disturbing animal sound. (It’s a cross between a wounded bear and a dying tiger.) “Fuckkkk, Autumnnnn.” He pants. “Can you feel me baby? I’m about to—” “Yessss.” I freeze my eyeballs to their sockets. “I’m almost there...” And with that, I moan even louder—sucking in breaths, shaking my legs, faking yet another orgasm. I should start keeping count... He collapses on top of me, his chest pressed against my breasts, and then he whispers, “I love you, Autumn.” I say it back because I always say it back, because that coffee maker is bothering the hell out of me and I need an excuse to get up. “That was amazing.” I rub his back with my palms. “Let me go make breakfast. You want waffles?” “Sure, sweetie.” He lifts his head up and kisses me one more time. Then he rolls over, allowing me to get out of bed. I wrap myself in a robe and head into the kitchen. As soon as I hit the lights, I look over at the counter. I didn’t turn it off...I knew it!

I pull out a box of waffle mix and a package of bacon. Usually, Kyle offers to make breakfast after sex, but I need a moment alone to think today. I need a fucking break. *** Dear Reader, I would let you read more of “Wasted Love” right now, but...You. Are. Not. Ready! I’ll release it to you as fast as I can. Love, Whit’ ***

Acknowledgments: Okay, where do I even start with this one? Let me first say that this book would’ve never been possible without the most AMAZING beta readers in the world! Tamisha Joiner, THANK YOU so much for encouraging me to change this from a novella to a full length novel! (I looked back at the first few drafts and cringed...Jonathan Statham was so NOT sexy then lol) Most importantly, thank you for encouraging me to take my time and put out the best book possible for my amazing readers. I don’t know how I would’ve done any of this without you— the back and forth calls, the text messages, my incessant ramblings about nothing at all. This book is as much mine as it is yours—THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! (Now that we don’t have fifty million email threads going on about “MLL,” it’s time to focus all of the attention on your upcoming wedding! :-)... Can’t wait!) Tiffany Downs, you’re WONDERFUL. Point blank. Period. I can’t count how many times we had to restart that epic “Mid Life Love First Six” thread. And OMG, I just realized that you were reading A LOT of this between planning the last details of your wedding and becoming a newlywed! (That is definitely love...) I can’t say THANK YOU enough for putting up with me and my rants, and being the great balance between me and Miss ‘I-get-too-involved-with-the-characters’ Tamisha. LOL. Your suggestions, critiques (even the overly “mushy” ones), and willingness to listen to me say the same thing over and over again really helped me :-) (Now, go find me a Jonathan Statham in real life...) Nadira Williams, I want you to know that I have the following texts saved in my phone: “Seriously though, I need that fucking book in my life!” and “It’s so good! Don’t be worried!” I can’t thank you enough for reading it through and through, demanding more chapters, and making the necessary corrections for me. You know, I would take this opportunity to restart the debate about who is smarter between the two of us, but I won’t...LOL. I appreciate you encouraging me to stay strong when I needed it, and to stop focusing on what other people were doing. “Gosh, I’m so fucking excited for this book!”—You literally just texted me that a few seconds ago... THANK YOU!!! Alonna Grigsby, your editing comments made me laugh out loud and I’ve saved them all to my laptop: “I woke up in a new Bugatti.” “Wait...This man might be crazy...” “Oh...This man IS crazy!!!” “Wait a minute...They’re not getting married?!” Thank you for reading this once you were done with grad classes and helping me make certain parts more realistic. Does this book count as one of our summer reading books? I really think it should! :-) Antoine Neal, thanks for reading this “GIRL PORN, GIRL PORN” (as you would say) and helping me out with the characters’ conversations in the beginning...You were right... “Hot mess” would not have worked and Jonathan’s hair does not have the ability to change colors between scenes lol THANK YOU :-) Jennifer Williams, you’re still the best sister in the world and always will be. I thank you for believing in everything I write. [“They didn’t ‘believesss’ in the book!” :-)] Jay Williams and William Ray Edwards II—Thank you for respecting “my zone” and interrupting it on some nights with random dances and YouTube videos. To my parents....I hope you only bought this book and aren’t reading it because that would be AWKWARD—I mean, I’m fine with you reading the Jilted Bride Series, but this? Put it down!

To my friends that I admire from afar: Aster Teclay, Ashley Warren, Tanisha Hill, Sherbrina Shepherd, Christina Royster, Courtney Johnson, Angelica Harris, Vince Cunningham, and Karleic Ellison. To fellow Memphian Justin Timberlake, Thank you for releasing The 20/20 Experience just in time—It made my writing flow so much better! (Please perform “Spaceship Coupe” and “Strawberry Bubblegum” when you come home in November!!!) To Colleen Hoover, Jamie McGuire, Abbi Glines, Arianne Richmonde, Theresa Ragan, Mimi Strong, Shanora Williams, Abria Mattina, and many more indie authors whom I admire and look up to. I stalk you all religiously and learn more and more from you every day...Yes, I’m borderline creepy, but whatevs :-) To every book blogger, Goodreads reader, and early reviewer who took a chance on me and gave me a review (good or bad) THANK YOU for your generosity and your time :-) AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, THANK YOU, INCREDIBLE READER for reading this book all the way to the end :-).

Dear Incredible Reader, Thank you so much for taking time out of your life to read this book! I hope you were thoroughly entertained and enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have any extra time, PLEASE leave a review on amazon.com, B&N.com, goodreads.com, OR send me an email ([email protected]) so I can personally thank you :-) If you hated it, well....keep that shit to yourself! LOL (Just kidding. Feel free to let me know how I can improve next time!) I’m forever grateful for you and your time, and I hope to be re-invited to your bookshelf with my next release. Love, Whitney Gracia Williams

More works by Whitney Gracia Williams: Reckless Love (2014) Wasted Love (Winter 2013-2014) Mid-Life Love (June 2013) Final Take: A Romantic Comedy (JBS) (Summer 2013) Take Three: A Romantic Comedy (JBS) (December 2012) Take Two: A Romantic Comedy (JBS) (September 2012) Captain of My Soul: A Memoir (July 2009) You can keep up with Whitney and the travels of her non-matching socks at http://www.whitneygracia.com To be a part of the mailing list and be notified of release dates and special offers, email [email protected] with “Mailing List” in the subject heading.