Her fingers curled around the edges of the box, and she nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
We didn’t mention the… What was it that had happened earlier? An almost kiss? A moment of insanity? A narrow miss?
Whatever it was, it remained unspoken. Iris opened her door and put her foot on the pavement outside, as if to assure herself that she was still on solid ground. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the cookies.”
“Tomorrow,” I managed to grunt, then waited until she was safely inside before driving away.
That couldn’t happen again. No matter how much I wanted it to, I couldn’t let my control slip like that in the future. She was my employee, and we were already navigating a precarious relationship. If it got complicated-and if anyone found out-I could lose everything.
I’d hired her to stand at my side and make me look good. That’s all she would be to me, no matter how much I wanted more.
Iris’s POV
The cookies lasted all of two days. Loath as I was to admit it, they were the best I’d ever had. Not that I’d ever tell Jared that particular fact. Whatever had happened in the car got buried under a thick layer of professionalism, and for the next week, neither of us edged anywhere near the line of impropriety. I did research and prepared for all the upcoming events on our calendar. I didn’t want to mess this up-especially not by kissing my boss.
The last event before our jaunt to the Hamptons for Raphael Garcia’s anniversary party was a gala honoring Jared’s parents for their work with the Society of Gout Sufferers of New York, for which the Bransons were apparently major donors.
I could tell Jared was dreading the evening the minute I slipped into the back seat of the car. I’d chosen a simple black velvet dress with matching black gloves for the night, trying to keep it elegant and understated. I tucked the bottom of my dress inside the car and nodded at Keith, who closed the door beside me.
Clasping my black clutch on my lap, I glanced over at my boss. His jaw was tight and his eyes glued to the window, where rain splattered the car and the city beyond it. The privacy screen was up, which meant he hadn’t even wanted Keith’s subtle attention on him. My presence was probably an irritant, but if I was to do my job properly, I had to lift his mood before we got to the event.
The car pulled away from the curb, and Jared still hadn’t said a word.
“It’s getting cold out these days,” I said to fill the silence.
Jared shifted, glancing over at me with cold blue eyes. “Yes,” he replied.
There was a gulf between us, one that hadn’t been there in the week since he took me out for chocolate chip cookies. I could still feel the pressure of his thumb against my lip, could still remember the heat in his eyes when he’d met my gaze.
No one had ever looked at me like that-like they ached for me. Like holding back from kissing me was pure torture.
As a lifetime placeholder, being seen-being wanted-by a man like Jared Branson was a particularly strong drug. Especially when he’d shown me glimpses of the man beneath the arrogance and the scowls.
I’d seen below the surface, and now I wanted more.
He was a complicated man who liked to distance himself from anything that might hurt him. I could understand that. Hadn’t I been doing the same with my romantic relationships for the past decade? Hadn’t I been doing the same with my friends?
I’d seen Bonnie again this week to help her choose a dress for an event she was attending while Jared and I would be in the Hamptons-a gala for her boss’s charity. Even though it would have been the perfect opening to share the secrets of my new job, I told her nothing about my situation. It wasn’t because of the NDA. I kept myself apart because I was afraid of her judgment. Afraid of her rejection.
Beside me, Jared was doing the exact same thing. I knew because it was familiar to me. I could tell he was putting a wall up between himself and the rest of the world in preparation for tonight, when he’d have to smile and clap and pretend to be happy that his parents were being honored by the upper echelons of the city.
Meanwhile, he’d be remembering all the ways they let him down.
I couldn’t stand the distance between us, so I reached over and slipped my hand into his. He glanced down at my velvet glove, then slowly curled his fingers around my hand. A tightness eased in my chest.
“We don’t have to stay the whole night,” I said quietly.
His hand tightened slightly, then softened. “Yes, we do.”
“I’ll be right beside you,” I said.
He glanced over at me, the tilt of his eyebrow slightly sardonic. “To protect me from the big, bad wolf?”
I met his gaze levelly. “If that’s what it takes.”
He huffed and looked away, but he didn’t remove his hand from mine. We sat like that as we snaked through the streets toward Midtown. All too soon, we arrived at our destination. In the few moments between the car stopping and Keith opening the door for us, I watched Jared don his armor. His face became remote. His hand slipped out of mine, and he straightened his tie and cufflinks. By the time the door beside me opened, there was no hint of the man whose gaze sparkled with amusement when I said something he didn’t expect, or the man whose gaze burned through me whenever we were alone. The man who had a surly baker at his beck and call, who had a photo of a high school basketball coach in the place of honor in his office.
This was Jared Branson, business mogul, giant of the industry, and perfect son to the guests of honor.
I hated it. I wanted the real him. The man he kept hidden behind the remote exterior. But I had a job to do, so I donned my own mask. The pleasant smile and open expression that made it easy for people to approach us. I became his companion, his plus-one, and nothing more.
The dinner was held at a huge, airy space in Midtown that had been decorated in silver, blue, and ice-white. Delicate music floated through the space, exactly the same way it did at every one of these events. The far end of the huge room had a big stage with a clear podium and a fluttery curtain as a backdrop, with large round tables filling two-thirds of the floor space.
Where we stood, by the door, was a bar and a clear area for people to mill around and network. We were immediately accosted by an older couple who complimented our clothes, then commented on the space, then inquired about our attendance at the Garcia event this weekend.
“We’ll be there,” Jared said, sliding his hand down my spine. A shiver followed his touch. Even through the heavy fabric of my gown, I could feel the heat of his touch.
The woman smiled. “Marvelous. Garcia’s place is just magical out there.”
“We heard your work with him included some challenges,” the man said. “Delays in the planned launch schedule.”
Jared smiled. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” he said. “I’m confident we’ll be able to deliver on our promises.”
“You always do,” the woman said, smiling, but her eyes were sharp. She patted Jared’s arm, then led her husband away to speak to another couple. I was learning the language of these people-the subtle jabs, the taunts, the probing questions. Just as much could be said with the twitch of an eyebrow or a significant silence as could with words.
Jared was a master at it. With Joanne Branson as a mother, I was sure he’d gotten a rigorous education in that particular style of communication.
The evening continued like that for the next twenty minutes or so. I did my best to be the charming companion who added color to conversations when I could, and stayed quiet when I thought it was called for. Jared stood a little further away than he usually did. Tension ran through him, evident in the set of his shoulders and the stiffness of his movements.
I wanted to fix it. I hated this distant, cold man who responded exactly as he should and showed no hint of personality. As we flitted from conversation to conversation, I wondered if anyone else noticed. They didn’t seem to; men joked with him and took his polite, wooden smiles as if Jared had guffawed along with them. Women flirted and charmed, not put off by my presence or Jared’s distance.
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.