Connectivity (21 page)

Chapter 27

I can hardly believe it is already the middle of May.

My life has changed so much in just a few short months. I am dating William and the world seems to know about it. We have appeared in gossip columns in both Chicago and London. William didn’t issue a denial through his publicist. Rather, each report was met with a terse ‘William Cumberland does not comment on his personal life’ statement.

I grin to myself as I walk down Michigan Avenue, the morning sun glinting off the skyscrapers around me. Yep, long gone are the days of ‘William Cumberland is gay’ whispers.

This made things at work rather interesting, to say the least. But since we are nothing but professional there, and nobody would dare say anything to my face about it, it has been survivable.

Of course, I had to bring this up to my parents, who were, at first, stunned I was dating
anyone
, let alone a British billionaire. I brought William to Easter dinner in Milwaukee and my family just seemed to sputter and stare at him, hardly believing the most powerful man in communications was not only in their living room, but dating their daughter.

And then Michelle forced me to a back bedroom and accused me of trying to upstage her wedding by dating William. Through gritted teeth, I told her I am dating William, will not apologize for him being rich and famous, and if she wanted to kick me out of her wedding, then I’d be happy to step aside and let someone else deal with her bullshit because I was done. That conversation led to us not speaking for the rest of the day, which was actually kind of nice.

But it was so painfully embarrassing, the whole damn afternoon, yet William handled it. Just like he always does. He was pleasant and even made small talk—which I know is painful for him—and I know he did all of this because he loves me. We still haven’t said those words, but there are some things I just know. That is the one thing I am most sure of than anything else in this world.

He will tell me he loves me
, I think as I enter the Collective Media Enterprises building,
when he is ready to
. I know those words—those words that have never been said to William by those closest to him—are the hardest words for him to say. Even to me. But he will. I
know
he will.

I spend a lot of time at William’s penthouse, more than my own apartment in Lincoln Park. Things with Reese and Emily aren’t the same. I realize I am a completely different person now, and my new life, the new
me
, doesn’t fit with the old life I had there with them. Once William and I discuss the future, I plan to give up my room in July, when my lease is up. Because I will no doubt I’ll be in London with William by June anyway.

I step onto the elevator and scroll through my iPhone. I have a few texts from Kristin and Laurel, two new friends I made at the Beautiful Homes Network, and, of course, one from William. He is across town promoting his new charity initiative at a women’s group breakfast meeting, and I couldn’t be prouder of him doing that. My heart flutters as I read his text.

Breakfast a smashing success. Also have really good news for you. Something you have wanted for a long time now. Will tell you when I get back in. WC

Gah, what good news?
What
? I hate when he tortures me like this. I quickly text back.

TELL ME NOW! MKG

I wait and receive a rapid-fire response from William.

No, not until I get back. Then you can unseal my lips. In whatever way you deem appropriate. WC

I blush as I step off on my floor. God, really, he can’t be any sexier, can he?

I get to my cubicle and get situated. I follow my normal routine now, of getting things ready for William and then the other things he has me do, like add my thoughts to proposals or initiatives, which I really have come to enjoy, or assist him with research, which William is really big on. I enjoy that as well, and it is something I never expected.

I get started on one of the projects William has given me, and before I know it, I hear him talking on his cell phone as he comes down the hall.

“That is bloody fantastic news,” I hear William say. “Bloody brilliant . . . yes . . . Very well . . . right . . .”

I look up and William is striding toward me, looking oh-so-suave in his navy Burberry suit and white dress shirt.

“I need to go, but I’m very pleased. Goodbye.” William grins at me as he pauses outside his doorway. “Please come in, Ms. Grant.”

I smile and walk past him.

William shuts the door and moves around me.

“I just kissed you in my head, darling,” William says, smiling as he walks past me to his desk.

I laugh softly. “Thank you.”

“So that was Luke from London,” William says, leaning against his desk so he’s facing me. “Connectivity mobile revenue is going to have a spectacular second quarter. Bloody hell, we’re shattering records. I knew the focus on mobile would pay off. I knew it!”

I see the excitement on his handsome face, and I am so proud of him I could just burst.

“You’re brilliant,” I say honestly. “William, you are so far ahead and all your competitors can do is play catch up. I’m so proud of you. We’ll celebrate tonight.”

“We might be celebrating for another reason. Because I’m not the only one who is brilliant around here,” William says, raising his eyebrow. “Care to know my news for you?”

“Of course!” I say excitedly. “What do you have to tell me?”

William rubs his hand over his jaw in a thinking way. “Perhaps it should wait. I have some phone calls I need to make and—”

“
William Cumberland!
Tell me now!” I cry, exasperated.

William’s blue eyes sparkle at me. “Okay, I’ll share. Jennifer Lewis was raving about your articles again. And Jennifer would like to interview you for a full-time writing position on her staff. The job is virtual, of course, so you can do it anywhere, but she is very interested in you for the position.”

A writer
, I think, my heart pounding excitedly. Jennifer Lewis, editor for the Beautiful Homes Network web page, wants to interview me to be a writer. I am so excited I can hardly think. I could do this for a living! I’m still in TV, but I’m writing. In addition to my blog, which now has more than five hundred readers. I . . . my God, could I actually be a
professional writer
?

“I gave her my blessing to interview you,” William says slowly. “And of course, in a few weeks, you will be free to leave me and transfer over to work under her.”

Suddenly my elation comes to a screeching halt. My heart stops. “Wh-what?” I whisper, stunned as I process his words. “What do you mean, ‘leave you?’”

William’s eyes hold steady with mine. “I know working for me is not what you went to Northwestern for, Mary-Kate,” he says softly. “You’re not an assistant. You’re a
writer
.”

All of a sudden, I start to feel sick. Really, really sick. He . . . William . . . he is going to let me
go
?

I swallow hard, but my throat is dry. Words can’t come out. I can’t get my head around this.

William wants me to leave him.

“Mary-Kate, don’t be afraid to tell me how you feel,” William says quietly. “I know how important your career is to you. You deserve this chance. You deserve so much more than to be my assistant. And I promised you when you took this job you just had to commit to me for six months. You upheld that. And now I am upholding my end of the deal.”

I stand still. The room is spinning. I feel torn in half, absolutely torn. Of course I want to write. But I have been doing that while being William’s right hand. I enjoy working with him, being part of his work, collaborating with him, working by his side. I . . . I can’t imagine not being with him in this capacity. I can’t.

Except you beat it into his head your career was above all else
.
And now William is trying to hand it to you. What are you going to do, turn him down?

Then I realize what I am thinking. I am thinking of turning down a writing job because of
love
. I am thinking of doing the one thing I swore I would never, ever do.

But is it wrong to keep doing something I love, like working for William? And just keep writing on the side?

“Mary-Kate?” William asks. “Are you all right?”

His words slap me out of my thoughts. Oh my God. Oh my God. I can’t turn this down, right?

Because if I do
, I think, panicking,
I’ll be like Michelle, I’ll be like my mom. I’ll be another woman sacrificing her career for a man.

And just like that my world is turned upside down.

“I’m thrilled,” I spit out, forcing a smile on my face. “I could be a writer! I am so excited to have this chance!”

The words sound fake and strangled as they escape my lips.

“You
are
a writer, Mary-Kate,” William says.

I see his eyes are flickering over me, assessing me, trying to read what is in my head.

“William,” I say slowly, needing to convince myself as much as I do him of my words, “I am so grateful for this chance. I know this wouldn’t have happened without you.”

“No,” William says firmly. “It might have taken longer to get there, but you have always been destined to be a writer, Mary-Kate.”

We stare at each other for a moment, realizing what this means. If I get this job, it is the end of our working relationship.

And as I look at the man I love with all my heart, the man I have worked side-by-side with for six months, the man who has given me everything I never knew I needed until I met him, I cannot imagine not being a part of his day, every day, in that capacity.

But that is exactly what is going to happen if I get this job.

Suddenly his phone rings and I am jarred out of my thoughts. I move around him to answer his phone.

“William Cumberland’s office, this is MK speaking,” I say, realizing that if I do get this job, someone else will be doing this for William.

I put the phone on hold and fight to compose myself. “That is Mark Riggan from Snap-shots.”

“Right,” William says quietly, staring at me.

I quickly dart out of his office while he picks up the phone. I hear his voice, the in-command voice of my badass mogul, and I sink down into my chair, reeling from everything that just happened.

The career I have always wanted is within my grasp.

But to grasp it, I have to walk away from working with the man I love.

And it takes everything I have not to burst into tears.

Chapter 28

By the end of the day, I am utterly exhausted from thinking about the bombshell that William unknowingly dropped on me by telling me about the writing job at the Beautiful Homes Network.

I am curled up on the couch next to him, dressed in my usual evening attire of yoga pants and a hoodie, my brain trying to sort itself out while he works on his iPad beside me. I am still shaken by today, by my reaction to the writing job and the possibility of leaving William.

God, why is this happening
? I never, ever expected to be so confused about my career. Ever.

But I never expected to be madly in love with my boss, either.

I take a sip of my amaretto-flavored coffee and stare out at the beautiful city lights of Chicago from his window, wishing that somehow I could see my future with such clarity as I see the majestic city in front of me.

“Talk to me,” William says, interrupting my thoughts.

I turn. William is not even looking up from his iPad, yet he instinctively knows I am tortured.

“What?” I ask.

William swipes a few things and puts the tablet aside. Then his blue eyes are piercing right though me. “You aren’t happy about this writing job opportunity. I want to know why.”

My heart freezes. William knows, he just knows.

I can’t bear to see his disappointment. I stare down at my coffee, gathering up the courage to tell him the truth.

“I . . . I am not sure I want to quit working for you,” I admit.

“Mary-Kate, look at me.”

I swallow hard and do as he says. William is gazing at me with nothing but compassion in his beautiful eyes.

“You aren’t meant to be answering my phone and typing my presentations,” William says softly, caressing my hair with his hand in a comforting manner. “If you were still doing those things for Paul, you’d be jumping at this chance to have a job that suits you.”

“But—”

“No buts. I loathe that word,” William reminds me. Then he smiles. “Of course, I understand that working for someone as sexy and dashing as myself could cause you to be rather torn about leaving your current position. However, I assure you I shall remain sexy and dashing no matter where you are working.”

I manage a small laugh. “You are impossible.”

“Impossibly sexy? Yes, you have told me that. Many times over,” William says, lifting an eyebrow.

I blush and he laughs. Then I clear my throat.

“William,” I say, going back to being serious, “I do like collaborating with you, though. I . . . I am not sure I want to give that up.”

“Who says you have to?” William asks, furrowing his brow.

“I won’t be with you anymore,” I say, my voice growing thick.

William takes the mug from my hands and puts it on the coffee table tray. He wraps his hands around mine and squeezes them in his. “I’ll still ask you to do those things for me, Mary-Kate. I’d be a bloody idiot not to utilize you in that capacity.”

“Why can’t I just be your assistant and freelance write on the side?” I blurt out, thinking that is the optimal solution to the problem.

“No. Absolutely not,” William says firmly, his eyes flashing with intensity. “I will not have that. I will
not
. You need to be writing. Not making copies and tea. Your voice needs to be heard, and not on a here or there basis around doing tasks for me. I will not stifle that voice in you. I want you to write like mad, Mary-Kate. Like mad. That is what would make me happy.”

I stare at William and tears fill my eyes. I know in my heart he would love for me to stay by his side, but I also know he wants what is best for me. He knows how much I have wanted a career. He knows I fell into writing by default but he knows I love it. And even if it costs him, he wants me to be the writer I am destined to be.

I feel the words “I love you” on the tip of my lips. I want to say them. I want to tell him I love him and I have never loved anyone the way I love him.

“Mary-Kate,” William says, interrupting my thoughts. “Please tell me you’ll go after this. Please. I know you will get this job if you are passionate about it like you are about everything else you love.”

And as I see the passion in his blue eyes, how much he knows me and in the end, what would truly make me happy, I feel as though the weight of the world is lifting off my back. I see now my future, with just as much clarity as I see the twinkling lights of Chicago out the window.

“Yes,” I simply say.

“Yes?”

“I’m going for it,” I break out into a huge grin. “I’m going to get that job, William. And I am going to write my brains out when I do!”

William flashes me a beautiful, genuine, I-am-so-happy smile, the one he saves for me and his family.

“Brilliant!” he says excitedly. “Brilliant!”

He cups my face in his hands and kisses me.

I excitedly kiss him back. The original feeling I had when learning about the job is back, and I feel the world is so full of possibilities.

A writer
.
If I get this job, I am a professional writer.

William begins kissing my neck and moves me backward on the leather couch. “I think it would be most appropriate,” he whispers against my neck, “if I find a way to reassure you I will still pay plenty of attention,” he says, kissing my neck again, “to
all
your needs when you are a writer.”

Oh my God. Yes, this was indeed a brilliant decision.

I slide my hands up around the base of his neck, up to his hair, caressing his silky waves in my fingertips.

“Show me,” I whisper in his ear, “just how you would do that, William Cumberland.”

He laughs wickedly and tugs down on the zipper on my hoodie.

“My pleasure, Mary-Kate Grant,” he says, kissing me on the mouth.

And just like that, everything is right in my world again. It doesn’t matter if I am a writer. It doesn’t matter if I am not with him all the time. We are
together
,
a team
, just like we have been since that Valentine’s Day in the bar at the Peninsula Hotel.

As his hands move over me and we begin to make love, I think of how I worried so much about him leaving me, about William blowing the candle out, so to speak, and heading back to London to his old life without me.

But I realize now, even with life’s continued unexpected surprises and turns, our candle will burn bright. This man is my life. William is everything to me, and I know I am everything to him.

Nothing could ever extinguish what we have.

I am sure of it.