Pressure Point (Point #2) (22 page)

Good luck today, baby. You’re going to kill it. Celebratory dinner tonight?

I smile to myself while reading Blake’s text. We spend many nights sleeping together at my apartment, but last night he stayed at home, because he hung out with his sister.

Yes, my life is falling into a predictable, addicting Blake-themed pattern. There’s only one piece out of place: Zoe. Occasionally Blake provides me with updates, telling me about how Zoe is improving immensely. And some nights, like yesterday, I didn’t see him because he’s spending time with her. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m becoming frustrated that we haven’t told her about our relationship. Then I pump the brakes on those emotions, recognizing it’s a selfish way to think about the situation. I haven’t told Blake about these thoughts because I’ve done a good job of smothering them myself. Other than missing Zoe, life’s perfect. I thumb a quick response to him and begin reading through my emails. There’s nothing of pause until I come across one from Ryan, the smarmy operations manager, and my client at the Chicago Center. Most of the note is business-related, until the last sentence.

After phase one launches, I’m taking you for drinks. We have a lot to discuss!

Reading the words makes my skin crawl. Every now and then, Ryan slips—staring at my breasts a beat too long, winking at inappropriate times, or making downright leery comments directed at me. The guy has to know that I’m dating Blake, it’s not a secret. Either way, the creep factor sticks to him like glue. None of his advances are outrageous enough to warrant a report of any sort, though. I’m worried that if I tell Blake, he’ll go all sorts of postal and beat Ryan to a pulp. Besides, after today, we won’t need to work nearly as closely. He’ll move on and I’ll get my promotion. Win, win.

“Thanks for the bagels.” I glance up to find Jim, one of Speck’s coders, holding up a pumpernickel in cheers. Behind funky, black-framed glasses, he’s bleary-eyed. I can relate.

“Today’s the big day; we’ve got to start fresh.”

“Happy hour tomorrow, right?” I nod unenthusiastically, remembering that we invited Ryan’s team to join us, too. Even though it’s a work-sponsored event, I can’t help but compare Ryan to a pesky fruit fly. Buzzing around constantly, never getting the hint, but ultimately harmless.

I collect my laptop and follow Jim back toward the development wing. I’ll be sitting with the team today for the launch. Truthfully, I’m not worried about our implementation this morning. Careful planning and exhaustive quality assurance measures leave me confident that nothing will go wrong today.

A whirlwind of conference calls, bagels, coffee, nearly zero technical bugs (hey, no one’s one hundred percent perfect) and we’re live by two in the afternoon, with no freak-outs from the client. Sitting next to me, Jim raises his hand for a high five. As our palms meet in celebration of a painless launch, the door to the conference room door flies open and the well-coiffed Katya peeks her head in.

“Stella, a minute.” It’s not a request.

My heart jumps into my throat.
What is she doing here?
We have time on the calendar tomorrow for a call to discuss the launch, but she never mentioned visiting our office. I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs and force a smile. “Of course.”

Remnants of adrenaline leave me jittery as I follow her, leaving behind a chorus of cheers from my team. Whipping around, I offer them a shaky smile. Jim shoots me a thumbs-up, giving me a slight boost of confidence. What do I have to be afraid of? Our team nailed this launch.

Katya’s brisk, as usual, leading me into a small office reserved for visiting colleagues. She extends a hand for me to sit opposite her at a desk.

“Preliminary feedback is very positive, but I’m sure you know that, Stella.” Katya’s expression is bland.

How am I supposed to respond to that statement? My gut twists. Katya plays corporate games that I don’t understand.
When in doubt, be yourself.
It’s something my father often told me growing up and I remind myself of it when intimidated by Katya. “Yes, I’m very pleased with the results of this project. Our entire team worked very well together, and I’m certain the Chicago Center will be thrilled with the results.”

“Hmm. I have no doubt of that, too. There’s a bigger picture here, right?”

It’s a rhetorical question, so I nod silently. Speck wants more business from the Chicago Center, that’s the bottom line. What I’ve done has laid the foundation for extended capabilities and more dollar signs. Surely, Katya sees that, right? The promotion was supposed to be mine with a happy client after this rollout.

Uncertainty rolls through me. Katya’s impossible to read.

“When they sign a contract for phase two enhancements, the entire department’s yours.”

“Pardon?” I ask in astonishment.

“You heard me. All of Chicago account management will become your responsibility.”

“But – erm.” Geez, I sound unprofessional, and Katya knows it by her slight smirk. I clear my throat gruffly then continue. “We discussed a promotion after the first phase. Chicago Center will provide me with glowing reviews, I’m certain of it, and there’s no doubt they will want more features from the platform.”

Okay. This might be a trick of my imagination, but I swear Katya emits a low chuckle. “Signed contracts don’t lie, Stella. That’s what it will take to get your promotion. Do you have any questions?”

Tons, you sanctimonious dragon lady!

“No questions. Just results. You’ll have that signed contract before Labor Day.”

Katya nods her dismissal, and I force a polite thanks for her time. The moment that I shut the office door behind me, betrayal spikes through me. Katya vowed a promotion after the launch of phase one and now she went back on her word. How can I trust that she’ll give me the promotion after the contract is signed? Despite my hurt and the poker hot anger flushing my cheeks, my gut reaction is to get the dang contract signed and rub it in her face. She wants to challenge me? Fine.

Bring it on.

A few hours later, I’m less staunch in my reaction. As I dress for dinner with Blake, I’m running the events of the day through my mind in a pathetic, endless loop. After all that work, I should be cheering and full of pride. Instead, I’m deflated. The goal that I thought I was working toward was cruelly yanked away, leaving me with only more work. In lieu of a promotion, I have a pile of doubt and a massive challenge ahead.

The buzz from the doorbell jerks me out of my pessimistic thoughts and I make the trek downstairs to Blake. The sight of my handsome boyfriend normally spikes my heart rate in delicious anticipation, but today there’s something off with him. He looks as discouraged as I feel, if not worse. Blake’s gazing at the ground, and his shoulders are slightly slumped. Brown strands of hair are askew on his head and his shirt’s not perfectly tucked in.

Something’s off.

“Blake, what’s wrong?”

“I…”

All thoughts of my career are immediately forgotten. My strong, unaffected man looks almost as distressed as when we found Zoe after what happened at Clarkes Elementary School all those months ago. I slip my hand into his and squeeze it reassuringly. “Dinner’s canceled,” I say. “Let’s go upstairs and talk.”

“Baby.” His grip on my hand tightens and he yanks me back to his side. Fear spikes his deep brown eyes. I fit my arms around his back and pull him against me. Blake drops his face to the crook of my neck and he inhales deeply, tickling my skin. “Being near you makes everything better.”

I manage to get him inside and on my couch. He doesn’t let me go far, tugging me into his lap and winding his arms around my waist. I press against his firm chest, surrounded by his warmth. “Tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me,” I admit.

“Zoe’s leaving Chicago.”

“What?” I clamber out of our embrace, staring at him in shock. “Why? Where?”

“You’re missing how,” he says drily.

“Start from the beginning,” I demand.

“Things have been going well with her therapist. Really well. She meets with him twice a week and I’m starting to see my sister again, you know?”

No, she doesn’t know that I exist in your life.
The thought scalds my heart. I have little idea of what’s happening with my best friend. Needless to say, she likely doesn’t have a clue that Blake and I have been dating since January.

“He encouraged her to leave the city. There are too many bad memories for her here, apparently.”

“Where will she go?” My voice sounds weak to my own ears. It hurts, still, that Zoe doesn’t want me in her life. More than that, Blake still hasn’t told her about us. My insecurity rears its ugly head, and inwardly, I shake it off.

“Mom left Zoe a house in New Point, Michigan. Actually, I’ve been renovating it for the past year to set it up as a lake house for the two of us. She wants to go there next month, get the hell out of town and away from me. God, Stella, did I fuck up that badly that she needs to leave the state?” Blake’s vulnerability takes precedence over the thoughts racing through my mind.
Renovating a house? I’ve never heard of this project.
I collect him against my chest, pressing his trembling body close.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Blake. You did everything right. Zoe’s strong enough to make a decision that’s best for her. She wouldn’t be in this state of mind if you hadn’t supported her and encouraged her to get professional help. Be proud of her. Let her go.”

“I can’t,” he mumbles.

“You can.” I squeeze him and drop a kiss to his messy hair. Blake’s arms go around my waist tightly in a vise grip. We sit there, silently holding one another for a few beats and then Blake goes stiff. He sits up, spine straight, and catches my cheeks in his hands. I know what he wants without a word spoken.

Our lips fuse together and my legs find their way around his waist. Blake stands, cupping my bottom in his large hands. Lightning streaks through my body when he kicks open the door to my bedroom and drops me onto the middle of my mattress. I love it when passion consumes his control.

He doesn’t speak as he tugs my blouse over my head, or as he shuffles my jeans down my hips. Only my heavy breaths break our silence as I drag his t-shirt off, and place kisses along his abs, moving to my knees, my persistent touches traveling higher. I flick his nipple with my tongue, and suddenly, Blake’s slim hold on his manners disintegrates.

Blake thrusts inside of me so forcefully, so quickly, so powerfully that I’m unable to think about the growing list of concerns. Kisses down the column of my throat distract me from wondering why I’ve never heard about a house in nearby New Point. A firm grip on my waist to flip me on my stomach and a rough command to get on my knees to enable him to access me in a deeper, more intimate angle makes me forget that I’m missing from a big part of Blake’s life. Teeth nipping on my shoulder as I climax makes everything else disappear.

It’s only my body and my Blake on my mind. Whatever he needs, I’ll give him.

The next morning when I wake up, coldness surrounds me. The normal cocoon of warmth that Blake provides by cradling me from behind is absent. I flip over and find nothing. Silence is my only companion. Even Blake’s pillow is cool. He must have been gone for a while.

Everything I squelched the night before comes rushing back. Blake’s gone, only a note on my pillow in his place.

Had to get home and talk to Zoe. Going to try to convince her to stay. I’m so sorry we didn’t talk about your work, baby. Tonight, I want to hear everything. Meet me after your drinks.

p.s. Snow White has nothing on you.

Yesterday, by far, was the biggest day of my career yet, and Blake reduced it to a line in a handwritten note. If it weren’t for the raw fear that I saw in him last night, I might be pissed. Seriously pissed.

Scratch that.

I’m hurt. What other things has Blake not told me?

You’ve only been dating a few months. What does he owe you, a line item of his entire life?
Reality checks suck. Okay, we’ve known each other for many years, but we haven’t been dating more than a hundred days. Plus, I haven’t communicated my feelings to him. Typically, I let him take the lead and put my own needs secondary. Can I really blame him for that?

The thing that bugs me the most is that Blake didn’t listen to my advice. Although he’s been Zoe’s dad for fifteen years, he’s definitely not ready to let her go so quickly. With a sigh, I climb out of bed and head to the bathroom to begin my morning routine before work. Blake needs a supportive girlfriend, not a nag.

So that’s what I’ll give him.