Jennie
"VETO!" I stormed into Lisa's office, the watchful eyes of her entire team on me.
One of the pajama pants-wearing employees was so startled he fell out of his chair.
Lisa eyed me from across her desk, the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. "I'll have to call you back. Something's just come up." She hung up the phone and smiled. "Can I help you, Jennie?"
"Can you help me? You can stand up so I can kick you in the balls. A three-day, all-access pass interview? Without telling me? What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that this would be an excellent way to use the media to show how brilliant and competent you are. Of course, that was before you karate-chopped your way into my office."
"Veto," I said, enunciating each letter with venom.
"If I recall correctly, you are out of vetos."
It was true. I'd used up my three vetoes in record time.
"Don't you dare be smug with me. You went behind my back, again! I can't believe I trusted you. After this weekend—" I dropped the sentence and the thought. Forget last weekend. She'd wormed her way into my trust, and now it was time to remove the pest.
"It's in your calendar," she said blandly. Her tone made me want to punch her in the throat.
"I beg your pardon?" I said icily.
"I put the interview in your calendar. Your trust wasn't misplaced, just your ability to read a calendar and my forgetfulness to mention it to you in person. Which is inexcusable."
I dug my phone out of my bag and stabbed at the screen.
Son of a bitch.
"You just put this in here, didn't you?"
"The magazine confirmed on Friday. I added it to your calendar then."
"I've been busy since Friday. You didn't think to mention it?" I'd been busy having sex with Lisa and meeting her family. Wearing her boxers. Opening up to her. Dammit. The bastard was a sneaky, untrustworthy, colossal distraction.
She rose and came around her desk.
I held up a warning finger. "Keep your distance because I'm mad enough to violate your face," I warned her.
"It's true," Alison said from the door. "The boss has been itching to violate someone's face for years. Be a shame if it was your pretty one."
Lisa held her hands up in a show of surrender. "It's one of the biggest online media organizations in the world," she said. "Their readership is huge, and the only way they would agree to do the article was if you gave them full-access."
"She's staying in Bluewater," I snapped. "Following me to meetings. Is she going to shadow me to the bathroom, too?"
"What are you afraid of?" she asked.
"Oh, boy," Alison muttered behind me. "That was stupid."
"I'm not afraid," I spat the words out.
"This is how I'm going to get you your IPO, Jennie. I'm sorry I didn't explicitly explain what was happening. That was my mistake. A colossal one. But I'm not screwing you over. I'm saving you. So tell me what you're afraid of?"
Of losing the last shred of privacy I had. Of stripping myself of my dignity and begging for approval. Of opening myself up to the judgment of one person who could influence thousands. And what if I came up short? The thoughts tumbled through my head like sopping wet clothes in a dryer. I loathed that she could read me well enough to see that it was fear behind the anger.
"I'm afraid of putting public opinion on the shoulders of one woman who's already decided she doesn't like me," I snapped.
"You're an incredible woman, Jennie, and it's time the rest of the world saw beyond that curated facade. This is your chance to show who you are."
"Why didn't you tell me, Lisa?"
"I was a little distracted this weekend," she said, sliding a hand around the back of her neck. "A lot distracted. And I forgot."
Was that a line? A lie? Did she naturally spin everything? For all her talk of honesty and vulnerability, was she capable of practicing what she preached?
"And maybe I was a little terrified of how you'd react," she admitted.
That at least rang true.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Truly. Deeply. I wanted to bring it up in the best way—"
"You wanted to manipulate me into saying yes," I corrected her.
She paused and chose her words carefully. "I wanted to present the opportunity in the best light so you would see its merits."
"And you forgot."
It seemed almost involuntary how her eyes, brown and wary, skimmed over my body. Like a lover's caress.
"I forgot. I allowed myself to be distracted by the gala and… everything else. I promise it won't happen again."
"L never forgets," Seulgi called helpfully from her workstation outside her door. "And since she did this time, we won't let her again."
People let me down. Always. Sooner or later, everyone would in some way or another. And I'd learned not to let them past my walls. Yet somehow, someone I'd known for only a few weeks, someone who had broken into my house to make a point, someone who'd stolen my father's wallet, had scaled those walls. I was angry. But more at myself.
I knew better than this. I knew better than to put myself in vulnerable, uncontrollable situations. Had I learned nothing since I turned twenty-one?
"Tell me how to make this better," Lisa said earnestly. "Tell me how you want me to fix this, and I'll do it."
I wanted her to cancel the interview. To grovel. To leave me the hell alone.
"Give me space," I said coolly. The words had frozen razor edges to them.
She winced. The ice queen claimed another victim. Finally.
"Stop," she said when I turned to leave. She caught me by the arm and spun me around. "Alison, give us a moment and close the door."
Alison waited for my nod before sauntering out of the office and shutting the door behind her.
"Jennie," Lisa said.
I remained silent. The withdrawal of affection and attention was often more powerful than a temper tantrum.
"Don't you dare freeze me out," she said, frustration lacing her tone. Her grip tightened on me.
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do. I gave you your chance. You disappointed me. Lesson learned."
"You're a stubborn idiot if you think that I'm going to let that be the end of this. Of us." Her voice was low, controlled.
No one in my entire life had ever called me an idiot. Stubborn, yes. Cold, of course. Difficult, "that bitch," whore, holier-than-thou princess. But never an idiot. Never stupid.
Forgetting my favored offense, I let my temper win. I shoved her in the chest. "What did you call me?"
"There you are." She had a gleam in her eye. That gleam.
"Stop looking at me like that," I snapped. She didn't have the right to look at me like that. Not anymore.
"I forgot. It was a stupid mistake. I don't make stupid mistakes. Ever. But you—"
"Of course you're going to blame me," I scoffed.
"Jennie, how in the hell am I supposed to keep anything in my head when all I can see is you under me, coming on my cock, calling my name?"
She wasn't being flippant. Lisa Manoban was being deadly serious.
"Speaking of mistakes," I said blithely.
She looked like she was going to murder me. Those glacial eyes burned with an icy heat. "Don't you dare use what we shared this weekend against me," she warned.
I glared back at her.
"Jennie, I wanted to tell you in the right way to minimize this. And then I forgot."
"Oh, you forgot. How does it just fall out of your head that you signed me up for something you knew would piss me off? Three days, Lisa. A stranger following my every move for three days!"
She had the good grace to look embarrassed. "This weekend was… eventful."
"You don't forget things."
"There you were Friday night running around your house half-naked and needing me. And I forgot. It fell out of my head in a fog of lust and excitement and the egotistical boost of you letting me in. I'm only human, Jennie. And the 'you' behind those monumental fucking walls is a goddamn miracle. You destroyed me."
I swallowed hard. She was so fucking good at the spin that even I couldn't tell if it was a lie, a line.
She released me and ran a hand through her hair, a nervous tic I hadn't seen before. "Tell me things didn't change this weekend. Tell me you didn't feel it," she challenged.
I crossed my arms over my chest. Things had changed. I had felt it. "Maybe." I shrugged. She'd taken that tenuous trust I'd given her and damaged it.
"I'm not letting you walk away, Jennie," she said. She reached for me again, trying to pull me closer. I pushed back harder.
"You don't get a say in the matter," I said. My arms were shaking with the effort.
"Check your email," she said. "Please."
The please was an afterthought tacked on to a command she knew I wouldn't follow.
"I don't think you have the right to tell me what to do anymore."
"Goddamn it, Jennie. Check your email." The command stood alone this time.
With an extravagant eye roll, I fished my phone out of my bag and opened my email account.
To: Jennie Kim
From: Lisa Manoban
Subject: I'm an unconscionable moron
Jennie,
I just tried to call but couldn't get through. I've forgotten to tell you something important that you'll hate. I'm truly sorry, and you can categorically destroy me later. But first let me tell you that a journalist will be in your office any second now. I have a conference call, but I'll be there immediately after…
It had been sent twenty minutes before I stormed into her office. I took my time looking up from the screen.
"Do not use this honest mistake as an excuse to stop trusting me," she said softly. Her brown eyes earnest. "I couldn't take it. And I'm guaranteed to do something ridiculous."
Damn it.
The anger drained out of me as if someone had pulled a plug. No one had ever fought for me like this before. They cracked and splintered like ice chips at my disapproval. Or, in the case of my family, they just didn't care.
"More ridiculous than breaking into my house and taking a bath?" I asked quietly.
Relief and hope warred fiercely on her face, and I felt that shift again. This time I didn't fight her when she pulled me into her arms.
"You scared the hell out of me," she breathed against my hair.
"You pissed me off."
"Darling, it's not going to be the last time. So we're going to need to work on some ground rules for fighting."
"Ground rules? For what?"
"For the future," she said, stroking her quick, talented hands down my back to cup my ass.
"Lisa Manoban is not discussing the future," I argued.
"Ah, sweet, stubborn Jennie. You haven't come to terms with it yet." Her voice was a caress, and I had trouble remembering why I'd been so furious only moments ago.
"Come to terms with what?" I asked. My heart rate sped up again, but this time it had nothing to do with temper.
"You're my match, love. Things will never be dull or normal. But I promise you that adventure you deserve."
"You can't be serious, Lisa. We had sex. We didn't pledge our undying love to each other!" I felt the licks of panic in my intestinal region. "You know I don't have time."
"That's not an 'I don't like you because you're a hideous beast who makes me want to vomit,'" she pointed out. She brushed my hair back from my forehead.
"We already discussed the 'we aren't willing to make time for a relationship' agenda item," I reminded her, feeling breathless.
Her gaze penetrated me, shooting daggers into my heart. "I will accept whatever you're willing to give. That's what you mean to me."
"Are you drunk?" I demanded.
"Are you scared?" she retorted.
Yes! My intestines were tying themselves in knots, and I wasn't keen on the idea of not having access to a private restroom.
"I'm not scared," I lied. "I'm appalled. We had one weekend together, and you're changing everything."
"This weekend changed everything," she corrected. "I'm just trying to keep up. Tell me you don't want more. Tell me you don't want more nights like last. Tell me you don't want more dinners with someone who not just tolerates your drive but worships it."
"You're spinning me," I accused.
She didn't even look guilty. "I'm painting a picture. I want more of you, Jennie. Let me earn you."
My digestive system let out a mournful gurgle.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, amused.
"Not exactly," I said evasively.
"Are you still angry?"
We were standing in the middle of her glass-walled office wrapped around each other in full view of Alison and the entire Alpha Group staff.
"Not exactly."
"I know how difficult it is for you to trust," she said quietly. "I don't take that lightly. This was an honest mistake, and I'm sincerely sorry."
"So I get a veto?"
Her smile was lethal. "Not on your life, love. This is the whipped cream and cherry on top of a full week of positive press. I'm afraid you're going to have to kiss your dreams of owning half my firm goodbye."
Lisa traced her fingertips down the line of my jaw.
"We'll see about that," I said lightly. The tide turned quickly, and who knew what an all-access interview would do? It could instigate a tsunami. "You're awfully confident that the real me is likable."
"You're more than likable, darling. You're admirable. Formidable. Fascinating. Real."
"I'm afraid." Admitting it out loud made some of the weight on my chest lighten.
"Of what?" she asked gently.
"Of letting someone into my life so they can judge me or hate me or use me. So they can find out I'm not perfect."
"Perfect is boring and unlikable. You're far from it," she said.
I tried to take a step back, but she held me closer. My mother would argue that the illusion of perfection was the only thing that mattered.
"You're better than perfect. You're intimidatingly brilliant and frustratingly dedicated. This is our chance to show the real you to the world. And I'm very sorry I sprung it on you like this."
I sighed out a breath. "I'll forgive you on one condition."
"Anything. Name it."
"I want burgers for dinner."
"I will get you burgers for dinner," she promised. "Are you all right?"
Was I?
I did a scan. Mentally: Steeled. Physically: Hungry. Emotionally: A little rocky.
"I'm fine," I decided.
"Good. Then let's take our journalist friend out for lunch."
"May I use your bathroom first?"