Connectivity (7 page)

Chapter 11

I should be elated right now.

Jennifer Lewis loved my article for the Beautiful Homes Network and is going to put it on their site. In fact, she loved it so much that she scheduled a meeting to discuss future articles. And I picked up ten new readers to my blog, too. So I should be happy. Happy that what I have wanted for so long—a successful career—is starting to happen.

But all of that fades to the background compared to my current state of misery.

It has been two weeks since that awful day in William’s office, and we are right back to Square One. We call each other by our last names, all of our interactions are business, and the days are horrifically long.

William has been irritable and short with people on the phone, while I have been fluctuating between being pissed off at myself, pissed off at William, then back at myself for allowing myself to get into this mess in the first place.

And when I am not pissed, I am just flat out miserable.

I haven’t even blogged since our fight, as I just can’t think about anything else but him. My heart aches. I miss his texts, I miss his smile, I miss the sexy, witty way we banter back and forth . . .

I swallow hard.

I just miss
him
, everything about him.

Which scares me to death.

I mean, how did this happen to me? How did I let flirting escalate to . . . to . . . feeling like this?

Of course, I have kept my misery to myself. I didn’t want to see the knowing look in Reese and Emily’s eyes. And I can’t talk to Michelle because she doesn’t participate in any conversation that doesn’t involve the wedding of the century.

All I want to do is run to an airline ticket counter, throw down my MasterCard, and purchase a one-way ticket to the south of France as an escape.

But since I am about to board a flight to London, that isn’t an option.

I draw a deep breath of air as I wait in the lounge at the gate at O’Hare. Now I get to sit next to William in luxury class and what seemed like an awesome trip a few weeks ago now seems like the voyage of the damned.

There is no sign of William anywhere. Of course, I know he is probably in the Premier Airlines Executive Club, as he is a member at the highest level. But I am so anxious about this trip and upset that I am actually relieved I don’t have to see him right now.

“Welcome to Premier Airlines Flight 1697 to London Heathrow,” the gate agent announces, interrupting my thoughts. “We would like to extend an invitation for luxury class passengers to board at this time.”

My stomach tightens as I have my ticket scanned. I board the aircraft and prepare to take my seat next to the window. The flight attendant takes my coat and offers me a glass of champagne, which I gladly accept. I sink down into the oversized seat and exhale.

I stare out the window at the workers below, and I feel like I want to throw up. How am I going to sit next to William for a whole transatlantic flight?
How
?

“I assume I can sit here,” William’s deep baritone voice says. “Unless you have managed to reseat me in cargo.”

I turn my head the second I hear his voice. Oh mother of God, he’s wearing the jeans and leather jacket.
The jeans!
He hands his leather jacket to the flight attendant and now he’s standing there in a pale blue dress shirt, one that makes his blue eyes look
so
blue, and jeans. God, he looks devastatingly handsome.

I don’t say anything. I turn. Looking at him for extended periods of time hurts too much.

William sits down and clears his throat.

“Mary-Kate,” he says slowly, deliberately, “you have to know you are more than an assistant to me.”

My heart stops, and I turn to face him. His intense eyes burn into mine. Suddenly I can’t breathe.

“You have to know that,” William repeats.

I notice he is flexing his right hand restlessly on his thigh, stretching his long fingers out and in. And then he lifts his hand, hesitates for a moment, and gently reaches for my hand. He entwines his fingers around mine and places our hands onto the armrest between us.

Oh my God
. The second he touches me, the very instant his hand is wrapped over mine, I know everything is going to be okay. He hasn’t explained anything to me but the fact that William did this—that he is
holding my hand
—tells me everything I need to know.

“Mary-Kate, I had to throw Guy off,” William says quietly. “I had to respond to gossip, which I
loathe
, in the way he’s accustomed to. Which I did. Rather successfully, based upon your reaction.”

William begins stroking the top of my hand with his fingertips, and heat sears through me from the sensation of feeling his skin brush against mine.

“Why . . . why didn’t you tell me that?” I cry.

William exhales. “I guess I was surprised you didn’t you didn’t see through me. You always do, Mary-Kate. And I wanted to hear how you thought I should have handled it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, swallowing hard. “I’m really sorry.”

William shakes his head. “I’m sorry, too. I should have said something to you before now. But after our row, after you asked me how I’d define us . . . I was confused. I had to sort things out.”

“And have you sorted this out, William?” I ask softly, my stomach knotting up, as I am almost afraid to hear what he has to say. God, what if he is holding my hand to soften the blow? Oh Jesus, I hadn’t thought of that—

“Mary-Kate, I know you want to know what this is between us,” William continues. “I know you don’t want a serious relationship, as you told me yourself. Am I wrong about that?”

Panic fills me. A full-fledged panic attack. I feel sweat on the back of my neck. My chest draws tight.
A serious relationship.
William wants to make sure that isn’t what I want.

I can’t breathe. I swallow hard, trying to calm the attack that is threatening to take over me. Of course I don’t want a serious relationship. I want my career. I don’t need romantic complications.

Or do I?

The panic increases as my brain can’t make sense of what is happening. Can someone change their mind after one weekend? Is that why I have been so upset?

Because I want something more
, my heart whispers.
I am upset because I want more from you, William.

Jesus, I have lost my fucking mind. Of course I don’t want that!

“You are not wrong,” I force myself to say with conviction. “And you, you don’t want a relationship because of the demands of your empire, right?”

I watch as his eyes flicker, as he assesses my words. He looks away briefly and then back at me.

“Correct. So while I cannot define what we have,” William says softly, his fingertips continuing to dance across the top of my hand, “I do know I want what we had back. Can we . . . can we go back to being just William and Mary-Kate? Please?”

My panic evaporates. My heart feels joyful at his words. As I see the sincerity in his eyes, I know it is going to be okay. We can go back to having fun and being ourselves but we know there is a line—the line that is becoming something serious—we will never cross.

“Yes,” I say, smiling at him as relief fills me. “Yes, we can.”

William grins back at me. He moves his fingers so they are entwined with mine. “I’m glad you are agreeable to this, Mary-Kate.”

And, just like that, sexy, flirty William is back.

God, how I missed him.

“I am very agreeable, William,” I say smartly.

He laughs and so do I.

“Hold on for a moment.” William picks up his iPhone and shuts it off. Then his hand is immediately back over mine, which sends shivers down my spine. “So what have you been up to since we had our falling out?”

I burst out laughing and then snort, which makes him laugh loudly.

“Well I haven’t done a thing with your penthouse décor because I was so irritated with you,” I say honestly.

I watch as his expressive blue eyes completely light up. Once again, I know William is not used to my honesty. And, once again, I instinctively know he likes it.

A smile plays at the corners of his full lips. “Is that so?”

“Very much so,” I flirt back. “But since we have come to a mutually agreeable situation, I shall get on it.” 

“Speaking of getting on it, you haven’t written in your blog.”

“I’m flattered you were still checking it,” I say, lifting an eyebrow at him.

“Well, as you would say, just trying to keep my finger on the pulse of American decorating and baking trends,” he quips.

I laugh again and he does as well.

“Speaking of trends, once we are airborne, I want you to look at a marketing proposal for Connectivity and TATS. I want your thoughts on it.”

I furrow my brow. “But I don’t know anything about marketing.”

“Irrelevant. You are brilliant. That’s all I need.”

My heart does an excited flip. William wants me to review a marketing plan!
He really does think I’m brilliant
, I think with a sense of amazement.

“What, did you think I exaggerated your brilliance to Guy?” William says, stroking his fingertips over my hand again as he reads my mind in that uncanny way he has.

I blush furiously. “Maybe.”

“I didn’t,” William declares.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers sexily, his eyes locked on mine.

Here we are, just inches apart. The world around me disappears, and I’m only aware of William. I can smell the pine scent on his skin. I drink in the glorious wavy hair, the way his cheekbones are so sculpted. My eyes flicker over him, from the crisp blue shirt to the way his jeans fit him just right. I think of how he flirts with me, the way he makes me feel so beautiful and sexy and desired. The way he thinks I’m brilliant enough to review his marketing plans. My eyes shift back to his full lips.

I want him to kiss me.

I want to know what that is like, to have William’s mouth on mine, right here, right now.

I lift my eyes to meet his again, and he’s staring back at me. I draw an eager breath. My heart is pounding. William has this look in his eye, and I know he is thinking what I am thinking.

He leans a bit closer, dipping his head toward mine. I move toward him, desperate for this to happen. I
need
to kiss him. The desire is so intense and urgent and one I have never felt before. I need this like I need air. I need to kiss William like I need water or anything else to survive.

My pulse is racing as I tilt my face up. Our eyes are still locked.
Now
.
Kiss me now.

“Welcome aboard Premier Airlines Flight 1679 to London. We are continuing to board—”

William jumps back the second the flight attendant’s voice comes over the PA, as if he’d been in another world and was just reminded he was in public. I hear him exhale and he rakes a hand through his sexy dark waves, pushing them back into place, and then he directs his attention to the front of the cabin.

My heart is beating so fast I think it very well might explode.

Oh my God. Did we almost kiss?

As I try to regain control of myself, William picks up my champagne glass and hands it to me.

“Since we are in public, perhaps a toast would be more appropriate,” William says softly, acknowledging what almost happened. “This is a toast to you, Mary-Kate. And to all the adventures you may have in London. Cheers.”

My heart is still pounding as I clink my glass against his. “Cheers,” I say. I take a sip of the bubbly and swallow it down. I can’t help but think my adventure has already begun.

And kissing William Cumberland is now at the top of my adventures list.

Chapter 12

I practically press my face against the glass of William’s Bentley as the city of London rolls by on Tuesday afternoon. I am in
London
! William has his driver take us all over so I can see the landmarks before going to work. I see Big Ben . . . The Tower of London . . . Buckingham Palace . . . God, it is amazing, just amazing, to be here!

“I am
so
moving here one day!” I cry in utter delight. “This is more fantastic that I even dreamed it could be!”

I look back at William, who is scrolling through his iPhone.

“Well, I suppose if I need your assistance today, I should look for you outside of Buckingham Palace,” he quips.

I laugh. “Or The Tower of London.”

William gives me a sideways glance. “Or Harrods.”

We both laugh. But then I grow serious for a moment as we drive through London, headed for The Shard, the modern office tower that is home to Connectivity. Today is my first day meeting everyone at headquarters, and I know it isn’t going to be easy.

“What are you worried about, Mary-Kate?” William asks, giving me his full attention. “I can see it in your face.”

“The people in the office,” I admit. “I know they already have an impression of me and it’s not favorable. They think . . .” I blush furiously, as it is rather embarrassing to say what they think of me.

“They think what? That we are having an illicit affair? It is none of their business what we have, and if anyone says anything to you, I’ll sack them.”

I watch as William’s light blue eyes blaze as he gets all badass mogul. God, could he be any hotter?

“I know, but—”

“No. You know I
loathe
that word,” William says firmly. “You will take advantage of this opportunity to meet people and impress them with your intellect.
Full stop
.”

I am comforted by his words. “You’re right. But can I please tell Arabella to fuck off? She is the one who started all this gossip in the first place. And I
loathe
her.”

William roars with laughter, and I laugh, too. I realize he is right. To hell with what anyone thinks about me. I am here to learn and experience new things for my career.

And as I watch William go back to his cell, my heart whispers that it wants to experience new things as well.

Before I know it, we are dropped by his driver at a glittery, modern high-rise. My pulse zips with excitement as I stare up at the glass building. The world headquarters for William’s ever-growing media empire. God, who would have thought I would be here just a few months ago?

“Ready to face your fans?” William quips.

I turn my gaze to him, and note how gorgeous he looks on this cold London day. He’s wearing his black cashmere trench coat and has the scarf wrapped just so around his neck.

And, good Lord, whoever would have thought I’d be here with William. William, who held my hand on the airplane yesterday. William who almost kissed me . . .

As I look at him, my doubts about gossips slip away.
Fuck them
.
Let them say what they want
. Gossips and jealous people are in every workplace. I know what is important. This career experience is important.

And so is William.

“I am more than ready,” I say to William, tilting my chin up with confidence. “They can bring it.”

William flashes me a brilliant smile. “Ah, very American of you. I rather like that.”

We head into the building and William leads the way. Everyone stops when he appears, and you can tell his presence changes everything. People stare at him, quickly address him in greeting, and press elevator buttons for him. Holy shit, no wonder he didn’t know how to pick out a chair at Pottery Barn!

We get into the elevator and ascend to the floor where his office is. We are the only people on it right now, so we are able to speak freely.

“I told Arabella to find a suitable place for you on this floor,” William tells me as he yanks off his leather gloves.

“So I’m based out of a broom closet this week?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Well, it will be handy if you spill anything. Which, Mary-Kate, I will say is a strong possibility with your track record.”

Instinct takes over and I slug him on the arm. “Shut up!”

I watch as his eyes completely light up. First, in surprise—I am pretty damn sure nobody has ever slugged him in the office—and then, in delight. He roars with laughter and his eyes . . . My God, they are so expressive. I can see he loves that I just did that. And that I’d told him to shut up.

“Careful, Mary-Kate. I have not conducted your first employee review yet,” William teases. “Telling your boss to shut up is not considered proper behavior, I believe.”

“So, William, does that mean you want me to be a very good, proper girl?” I say, feeling flirty.

Oh dear God, did I really just say that?

William hesitates for a moment. Then he rakes his hand through his glorious waves.

“You may be a very good girl, Mary-Kate, only if the situation deems appropriate,” William responds sexily, raising an eyebrow right back at me.

Fuck
! Now I am roasting in this elevator. I loosen my layers and try to act like this sexual banter is doing nothing to me at all.

Which is becoming very challenging.

The doors open and we step out. I instantly stop. Holy shit, this office is
magnificent
! Everything is glass and modern and sleek. It screams future and technology and it is just so . . . cool. Very, very cool.

“Mr. Cumberland, welcome back,” a woman behind a black and glass reception desk says.

“Thank you, Ms. Reid,” William says. “Ms. Bridget Reid, I’d like for you to meet Ms. Mary-Kate Grant, my assistant in the United States.”

I watch Bridget’s face. The eyes flicker knowingly.

Yep. It’s official. I’m William’s whore.

But as I stand here right now, I shockingly realize I don’t give a damn what she or anyone else thinks about me. I am here for my career. I am here for William. End of story.

“Hello,” I say, extending my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she says, shaking my hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms. Grant.”

Ha, I bet you have
, I think, smiling at her.

William leads me through the floor, introducing me to all the different people. Everyone is very pleasant and nice, but I can see in the eyes, in the female eyes in particular, the look of “Oh,
this
is the infamous MK.”

Finally, we come to William’s office. Which means we have now come to Arabella.

“Ms. Dalton, how are you?” William asks, sweeping past her and into his office. “Ms. Grant, you may drop your things in here until you have a chance to get situated.”

Arabella swivels in her chair and her green eyes narrow for a split second. She stands up and follows us into William’s office.

“Mr. Cumberland, it’s good to have you back,” Arabella says, smiling brightly at him. “I will have your afternoon tea brought in at once.”

“Thank you,” William says, taking off his scarf and coat.

Arabella turns to me and gives me a smile that I know she does not want to give. “MK, I hope your trip was favorable.”

Riiiiiiight. If she had an ejector button, I would have been dumped out over the Atlantic in flight.

“Very much so, thank you,” I say as I put my Modalu tote bag down into one of William’s guest chairs.

“Mr. Cumberland, please remember your one o’clock meeting with advertising,” Arabella says. “I will have lunch brought in for that.”

“Fine,” William says, going around to his desk. “Ms. Grant, I would like for you attend that meeting please.”

Arabella’s nose wrinkles. “But, Mr. Cumberland, I will take the notes for the meeting as I always do. Ms. Grant can be freed to do something else.”

William quickly swivels around in his chair.

Oh God. I see it in his eyes. He hasn’t been here 15 minutes and he’s already majorly annoyed with Arabella.

“Ms. Dalton, I believe as owner and chief executive officer of this company, I do not need to run a list of meeting attendees past you for personal approval,” William says bluntly. “Furthermore, I still need you to take notes and distribute the action plan. Ms. Grant will attend the meeting in a different capacity. One that I do not need to explain to you. Am I clear?”

Bah ha ha
! I do my best to keep a neutral face, but I really want to laugh.

“Of course, Mr. Cumberland.” Arabella nods gravely.

“Now please show Ms. Grant where she will be working during her stay here,” William says. Then he looks at me. “Come back here a little before 1, Ms. Grant, so I can go over some things with you.”

“Yes, Mr. Cumberland,” I say, grabbing my tote and purse.

“Follow me,” Arabella says with a pinched smile.

I follow Arabella out of William’s office. She is striding angrily before me, slamming her stilettos down on the hardwood floor, and I am practically running trying to keep up with her.

We twist and turn through the building, and, Jesus, she found the cubicle furthest away from William that she could find to stick me in.

“Here,” she snaps, stopping in front of a vacant cubicle area.

I catch my breath and look around. It is obvious this area is designed for future expansion, as it consists of half-constructed cubicles and boxes of office supplies.

In fact, my cubicle has two walls, one open side where a wall should be, and boxes and boxes of crap shoved off to one corner of the desk.

Wow. The broom closet might have been nicer.

“Thank you,” I say, putting my tote bag down.

“Are you going to run to Mr. Cumberland and tell him you don’t like it?” Arabella says with a fake sweetness in her voice. “I mean, everyone here knows you have him eating out of your hand.”

I turn around as I shimmy out of my coat. Arabella wants to go there with me? Okay fine. I’ll go.

“First of all, nobody controls anything Mr. Cumberland does,” I say firmly, draping my coat across the back of my desk chair. “And, no, I would never bother him with something as trivial as a cubicle. I don’t believe in wasting his time with matters like this, do you?”

Arabella cocks her head to one side. “Oh, you are so full of it, MK. We all know you’ve somehow cracked the code on William Cumberland. He’s intrigued with you—God knows
why
—but he is. Do tell, are you shagging the hell out of him? Because I think that would be your only intriguing quality, MK.”

Rage fills me. I seriously want to slap her across the face. My temper is lit, and I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“You,” I say, staring Arabella dead in the eyes, “can go fuck yourself. And I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t give a shit what you say or think about me.”

Arabella blinks. I don’t waver. I can tell this reaction isn’t what she had hoped for.

“Well, that’s all fine and well that you don’t care, MK,” she declares in a huff. “But let me give you some insider information. William might be fascinated with you and America now, but rest assured
London
is his home. Not Chicago. And he will come back here permanently by June and, trust me, he’s not coming back with
you
. You are stark raving mad if you think anything different.”

Then she turns on her heel and storms off before I go another round with her.

I am so angry I am shaking, just shaking. That fucking bitch. How dare she say these things to me? But even though I am livid, a bigger emotion is sweeping through me.  

Fear.

Yes, I know William and I will never be in a serious, long-term relationship. We both agreed that would be best in light of what we have going with our careers right now.

But I never thought about him leaving Chicago for London on a permanent basis.

So if that is the case, if I know I will never be with William like that, why does the thought of him leaving make me feel absolutely terrified inside?