But- deep breaths
-it was just a job. It was the best job I could hope for right now, and I might as well make the most of it. I counted to ten and steadied my nerves.
It was one dinner. How bad could this Joanne lady be?
The elevator doors opened, and Clara led me to an office in the opposite corner of the floor to the location of the conference room. She knocked on the frosted glass door, and I heard the deep rumble of Jared Branson’s voice on the other side. Clara opened the door and strode in, gesturing for me to follow.
Branson was wearing glasses. They were rectangular with slightly rounded edges, the frame a deep blue that brought out the color of his eyes. He frowned at me and took his glasses off, pressing the end of the glasses’ arms on his bottom lip.
I looked at that depression on his firm mouth, and heat swept through my middle.
His gaze traveled from my shoes, up my beige pants, and over the silk blouse, finally coming to rest on my lips. He frowned slightly, and a vein of stubbornness split open inside me.
“I’m not taking the lipstick off,” I told him.
His gaze slid the final distance to my eyes, and he blinked slowly. The heat in my abdomen got a smidge warmer. Anger-and something else. It made me uncomfortable to be studied so blatantly, but it also made me feel alive.
He set his glasses down and stood. “Fine,” he told me.
“Who’s Joanne?” I blurted.
It didn’t surprise me when he flicked his eyes toward me then glanced at Clara. “Is the bird ready?”
“Whenever you are,” she confirmed.
He nodded, then without so much as a glance at me, walked out of his office behind Clara. I had no choice but to follow, with no idea where we were going, who we were meeting, or why everyone refused to answer my questions.
There was a moment, then-just a second, really-when I considered throwing in the towel. I could quit, walk out of here, and never come back. Sure, I’d lose the benefits and the perks and the salary, but at least I wouldn’t be ignored and treated like a prop. At least I could be my own person and be proud of my own integrity.
Then Jared paused on the threshold and looked at me. His eyes were dark. They sent that same heated shiver coursing through my veins, and I discovered that that flame of stubbornness hadn’t yet been extinguished.
I was a professional. When I set my mind to something, I followed through. I’d signed up to be this man’s companion, so I’d accompany him to his social events, and I would be good at it-no! I’d be great at it. I would be the best damn companion he’d ever had. He’d have no choice but to keep filling my bank account (and my closet) to the brim.
It didn’t matter that he was a billionaire with all the power, and I was pretty sure he was toying with me. He was just as bound by that contract as I was. After all, he was the one who’d thought I was trying to sue him. He thought I’d been negotiating before, when I’d just been confused.
I had the upper hand in that negotiation, and I hadn’t even known. So he wasn’t the all-important god he thought he was.
Phil was right. The best thing for me to do was milk this for all it was worth, even if I had to wear a boring beige suit while I did it.
I lifted my chin and arched my brows at him. “Regretting your decision to hire me?” I challenged.
His lips curled into a mirthless smile. “Not even a little bit, Little. Now keep up. We haven’t got much time.”
Jared’s POV
Iris’s shiny black shoes poked out from under the tan fabric of her pants. She leaned against the side of the elevator as we traveled up toward the roof, watching the numbers on the little black screen above the door.
She looked…not better, but definitely more appropriate for where we were going. Still, I found myself missing the figure-hugging dresses that echoed a faint pinup style that I’d seen her in before. She didn’t look uncomfortable, but other than the red lipstick, the shoes, and the glossy black waves, she didn’t look like herself.
I turned away, gritting my teeth.
It was better that way. Better to be inconspicuous and blend in so we could get in and get this dinner over with.
As we reached the top floor, a staff member nodded and opened the door to the roof. Beyond it, helicopter blades sliced through the air in a steady staccato. I strode to the door and turned when Iris didn’t immediately follow.
Her eyes were huge. “We’re taking a helicopter?”
“Why else would we go to the roof?”
“Right,” she said, then followed after me.
Waving to the pilot, we made our way into the bird and strapped ourselves in. I watched as Iris frowned at the headset, flipping it in her hands before sliding it over her ears. She shot me a quick glance, then turned those wide brown eyes out the window.
The crew did their final checks, and then we took off. Iris’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of her seat, her face so close to the window that I expected her nose to leave a smudge on the glass when she finally tore herself away.
The helicopter turned at a sharp angle, and Iris’s chest moved with a sharp inhalation.
A softness entered my chest at the sight of her like that, so enthralled by what we were doing. I found myself fascinated by watching her. Traveling to Long Island by helicopter had become a normal part of my routine. It was more convenient than taking a car.
But now, as I watched Iris, I realized that the view from the helicopter was spectacular. The setting sun painted the sky in a wash of pastels at our backs. Spread below us, the city was alive with lights and motion. The East River, lit with the setting sun, cut a path of golden fire between the landmasses, quickly disappearing behind us.
Ahead, a few stars dotted the darkening sky. The moon hung low over the horizon, a pale crescent barely visible in the sky.
“Wow,” Iris breathed, peering down as we passed over the lives of millions of people.
“Ever seen the view from up here?” I asked through the headset.
“No.” She turned to me, her lips spread in a broad smile. “It’s incredible.”
I nodded, following her gaze as she looked out the window once more. My eyes were drawn back to her, though. To the slope of her neck and the way her fingers relaxed their grip on the edge of her seat. How she shifted and stretched a leg out so I could catch a glimpse of her ankle. Her lips parted, eyes shining, and I felt an uncomfortable tightness in my chest.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.