Parker’s [POV]
“If I may say so, Mr. Blakesley, the measures you are proposing are extremely drastic.”
I watch the older man coolly as he paces in front of my desk. He’s been on the advisory board of this company since my father was running it. It’s a miracle my brother kept him after he became CEO. He made sure to fill the other seats on the advisory board with imbeciles. Which is why I only kept him around after I took over.
Right now I’m doubting that decision.
“I didn’t ask you to come to my office for your opinion,” I say, “but to carry out my orders.”
“What you are suggesting is a prime example of the proverbial heads will fall, Parker.”
The subtle use of my first name doesn’t escape me. “Then heads will fall. This is my final word.” The man doesn’t budge. “My brother and the fools he called his advisors drove this company to the ground with their moronic decisions. It will take equally drastic measures to restore it. Do you disagree, Donald?”
The man purses his lips, pushing his thick spectacles up his nose. He doesn’t say anything for a long time.
“I don’t disagree,” he says eventually, “but I was hoping I wouldn’t get to be in the company anymore when the time for those measures came.”
My hands stiffen on my desk. “You want to quit?”
“I appreciate that you trusted me enough to keep me as an advisor, but-”
“But the ship is sinking, and you have decided not to sink with it?” I demand.
“You are a young man, Parker; I don’t expect you to understand me.”
“By all means, explain.”
He shakes his head. “I prefer to keep myself out of this. It is very noble of you to want to save this company. I know it must be hard for you, given all the . . . differences . . . you and Robert have had over the years, and I admire you for wanting to do the right thing. It was your father’s company after all. I am certain if there is one person who can turn this company around, it is you. You are exceptionally intelligent and have the right amount of ruthlessness. But there are people I care for in this company, and I’d rather not be here to witness what will happen, even though they made mistakes. We all did, after all.”
“I don’t appreciate your insinuations, Donald,” I say through gritted teeth. I played my part in this company’s demise; I know that. But I won’t tolerate anyone rubbing it in my face.
“I meant no offense. I am certain you will have everything under control here in no time, Parker, just like you always do.”
“If you want to leave, I am not going to stop you.”
He nods and heads toward the door. I raise my cup of coffee to my lips, but it’s cold already.
Damn it. I stand up, and start to pace around my office. I need something to distract me from everything going on. Without realizing it, I start thinking of Jessica and what happened yesterday at the opera.
I wonder what she’s up to now, so instead of focusing on the madness here at the office, I text her.
Parker: How’s your day?
Jessica: I’ve had better.
I’m instantly on alert and call her, but she rejects it.
Jessica: Can’t talk. My asshole boss is patrolling around.
Parker: When do you leave work? Want to grab coffee?
Jessica: I need one more hour. I love coffee. Where do you want to meet?
Parker: There’s a quaint coffee shop near my office, but I can meet you anywhere.
Jessica: Noooo, I’ll come there. Dani said your office is somewhere around Regent Street? I LOVE that area.
Her enthusiasm shines in her writing, making me smile. Then I text her the address of the coffee shop, smiling even broader when she replies with I’LL BE THERE along with ten exclamation marks.
I try to focus on work after that. I was counting on Donald to help, and now it looks like he’s going to bolt. One of the reasons I don’t trust people. When the going gets rough, they bolt. But my meeting with Jessica sure makes this day seem a whole lot better.
***
Jessica.
I leave the museum after I email the report, and then practically fly out the door, heading to the subway. It’s packed at this hour, but I still love riding it. I climb out at the Station Oxford Circus, ignoring the sign that asks us to please avoid this station at rush hour, and instead exit at one of the other nearby stations. Breaking this small rule makes me giggle. I feel like a rebel.
Of course, I’m also sandwiched between a million commuters and body odor assaults my senses, but that’s another story.
I come out at the intersection between Regent Street and Oxford Street. These two, along with Bond Street, form my favorite trinity in London. The shops are to die for; red double-deckers can be spotted everywhere, along with red telephone booths.
I was shocked when I discovered that most booths have been repurposed. It makes sense, of course, but no one really uses them. Still, I was surprised when I saw a few that had been transformed in mini public libraries. One had a defibrillator in it.
I feel British around them.
One of the best things about this city? The restaurants. Lebanese cuisine is my personal favorite. I could eat falafel, hummus, and salads every day.
Before I cross the street, I look on the pavement on the markings that say Look Right or Look Left. I am used to the driving system by now, but by God those markings saved me from a hospital trip during my first weeks.
I forget all about my crappy day as I walk toward my meeting point with Parker. It’s a side street, narrower than the Big Three, but still boasting plenty of shops on both sides.
Parker stands in front of the entrance to a pub. He looks perfect, as always, in a dark navy suit and a white shirt with cufflinks.
“Which direction did you come from?”
“Oxford Circus.”
“Bond Street station is closer.”
“I wanted the longer route, to take in all this… Britishness. Puts me in a great mood.”
“I can see that. Your smile takes up your entire face.” He pointed at his face. “Look, your enthusiasm makes me smile too.”
“Aww, is my enthusiasm rubbing off on your stick-in-the-mud British ass?”
“I believe it is.”
“So, this is where we’re getting coffee?”
“Yes. It’s a pub, but their coffee is great. Better than that overpriced stuff they sell at Starbucks or Costa.”
Parker walks to the door and then pushes it open. “After you.”
The smell of coffee and beer fills my nostrils once I’m inside. The place has an old-world feel with wooden chairs and tables, and the counter seems to be placed on old beer barrels. Several other beer barrels decorate the walls, with the words beer or ale on it.
“What do you want?” Parker asks.
“Hmm… now that I’m here, I think it’s too late for coffee. I’d go with a beer, though I don’t really like the bitter taste.”
“Go with a brown ale then. It’s not typical for London, but they’ve got a few good ones. It’s not that bitter. Fewer hops.”
“That sounds good.”
“Go sit at a table, and-”
“No, no. I want to order.”
“I want to order.”
I want to be as British as possible and order my own ale.
The man behind the beer drafts looks at me as soon as I approach the counter. He talks first, and my smile freezes a bit, because from his long sentence, I only understand the word lass. Shit, the guy’s Irish, and the accent kills me. Sexy as hell, but I don’t know what he’s saying. Sounded like a question, though, so I just answer, “Yes.”
The guy cocks an eyebrow. Next to me, Parker tries to disguise his laughter as coughing. I elbow him, and he clears his throat.
“Excuse my American friend. She has a little problem with accents.” To me, he says, “He just asked what you’d like to drink.”
I won’t let this setback keep me from feeling British.
Straightening my shoulders, I say, “Brown ale, please.” Then, as an afterthought, I add, “A pint. A pint of brown ale.”
There. Doesn’t get more British than that. I’m feeling quite good about myself by the time Parker and I go to a table with our pints. At the far end of the room, there are couches. I sit on one, and Parker sits on the stool on the other side.
“Mmmm, this is really good. Maybe it’ll replace tequila as my favorite drink.”
“Ah, it’s good, but I don’t know if it can match Don Julio or Senor Rio,” he says and I immediately recognize the brand names.
“Jose Cuervo,” I say. “That’s my favorite guy.”
Though I don’t remember Jose Cuervo ever giving me shattering orgasms, so that puts Parker at the top of the list. He unbuttons his coat, putting it on the back of a chair. I allow myself a minute to indulge in the godly sight in front of me. The shirt he’s wearing has a slim cut, accentuating his toned body. I imagine what it would be like to open the buttons of his shirt. I’d do it one by one, enjoying every freshly revealed inch of his skin.
Parker snaps me back to reality. “You want to tell me why your day has been so awful?”
He stares right at me, his blue eyes boring into mine, as if he’s determined to crack open my darkest, oldest secrets.
I lower my eyes to my beer. “My bo… my boss isn’t really pleased with my . . . umm . . . job performance.”
In a split second, Parker isn’t sitting on the chair in front of me anymore, but on the couch right next to me.
“Tell me what happened,” he says. His voice is steady, even soft.
I suddenly feel ashamed. He’s the CEO of a company, for God’s sake. How should I tell him I got shouted at for not putting a decent report together?
As if reading my thoughts, he says, “I wasn’t born a CEO, you know.”
I smile. “Nothing major happened, really. He shouted at everyone in the office today, not just me. Guess he had a lot on his mind today. Though he was this short,” I say, keeping my thumb and forefinger barely apart, “of having a severe case of blue balls. Literally. I wanted to hit him in the groin.”
Parker lets out a sharp chuckle, and I relax a bit. He doesn’t take his eyes off me, though. “If he’s a jackass,” he says, “you should consider quitting and finding a new workplace.”
I shake my head. “No way. I don’t have a lot of savings, so I can’t afford sitting on my ass while I find something else.”
“I can help you with that. I know the directors of half the museums in London. I make donations to them on a regular basis. It would take a few days at most to find you something else.”
“No, I want to do things on my own.” I want to feel that I’m worthy of something. That I’m not just a big, fat disappointment to everyone. I can imagine how the phone call to my parents would go if I told them I’d quit my job.
“It was just a suggestion, Jess. I don’t want you to be miserable.”
“Why are you so supportive? I remember you telling me once I should get my act together and be more responsible.”
Parker’s expression is unreadable. But I can see it in his eyes that he remembers that well. How could he not? After the fight that gave him a black eye and me a broken leg, he reminded me of how irresponsible I was.
That whole incident was more or less my wake-up call that I couldn’t continue down the same path. My job search had been one of the only things I took seriously. I wanted to prove to myself and everyone else that I was capable of more than talking my way around entry lines to clubs or flirting my way to pretty much anything.
“And you did. You came here on your own. That’s not an easy thing to do.”
“Well, I need to work harder if I want to continue staying here. So I will. You don’t look too cheerful yourself.”
“What gave me away?” Parker asks.
“My radar is on today. Being a CEO isn’t what they make it out to be?”
“No,” he says. “Being the CEO of this particular company isn’t.”
“So why are you doing it?”
“Because I have to.” Looking up at me with a sad smile, he adds, “I don’t really want to go into detail about this right now.”
“Okay.” I shift closer to him, and his scent seduces me. “But you told me once that the only things we absolutely have to do are the ones we can’t live without. That we owe it to ourselves to do those things, but nothing else.”
Parker’s voice seems to have dropped an octave when he replies. “You remember that?”
“Yeah.” As if I could forget it. While I was confined to my apartment in California with my leg injury, I had a particularly unpleasant conversation with my father on the phone. He reminded me-again-that my choice of major would set me up for a lifetime of low pay. I usually brushed off his comments, but I let doubts get the better of me then. Parker visited me shortly afterward, and I brought the issue up with him, though I didn’t explicitly mention my dad. Parker’s response helped me shake off any doubts.
“Well, let’s just say, if I don’t do this, I won’t be able to live with myself,” he says. “Now, let’s not make this about me. It’s about you.”
“I don’t want to think about today.”
He takes my hands in his in a gesture so tender I cannot help remembering what happened between us last night.
“Then don’t. What you need is a change of scenery. Let’s go away for the weekend,” he says in a low voice. “A cousin invited me to her estate in Worcester. Dani has agreed to come, too. ”
As he plays with my fingers, I look up. Our gazes cross, and the same craving from last night hits me again.
“If you won’t let me help you, at least let me enterta
in you.”
I turn, locking eyes with him. “How exactly would you entertain me?”
“Just come with me this weekend. There’s a lot we can do there. Horseback riding, if you’re into it.”
“Hmmm… what else?”
His eyes flash. “I’ll be there.”
“You’re using your stick-in-the-mud ass as a selling point?”
“As I said, you’re rubbing off on me, so don’t count me out yet. Besides, after last night, I have a feeling that I’m a great bargaining chip.”
I smile, sipping from my ale. “Fine, Mr. Blakesley. Knock my socks off.”
He offers me a full-on grin, and I have a feeling that he’d going to do away with more than my socks. Bring it on.