By lunch, my sanity had overcome my body’s needs, and I’d made up my mind not to be a coward, per my own definition. I would tell Mr. Cole the truth: I hadn’t been serious when I’d put fucking on the table.
I’d just have to use that backbone of mine to come clean. He would have to respect that, right?
There was a knock on my office door as I started packing up my things.
“Come in,” I said, still unable to believe I got to say that. I had an office. At Cole Cosmetics. It was a dream come true. Mostly.
Keri’s head popped through the door. “Oh, good. Glad I caught you before you left. Thought I’d have to drive out after you. Mr. Cole just called and asked you to bring these to his house tonight.” She held out a large white envelope.
Oh, shit. I felt my face turn tomato red. She knew I was going to his house? What else did she know?
“Um. Yeah,” I said. “He wanted to go over some things before Monday.”
“Go over a few things?” She smirked and gave me a look. “Oh, that man just loves fooling around.”
Dear Lord. She knew? I thought I’d die of embarrassment.
She went on, “Mr. Cole has to attend the big fashion show in Milan tomorrow night. The designer is revealing our new fall colors line.”
Oh God. I hung my head and let out a sigh of relief, wanting to laugh. He’d been fucking with me about this weekend.
Head-game point goes to you, Cole.
Even I knew that C.C. did these product-release fashion shows four times a year. It was always a big hush-hush until the event when they revealed the models were wearing the new look. They used a different clothing designer every time. I’d read that Mr. Cole did it that way to keep C.C.’s image fresh and it gave C.C. some “runway” before the competition knocked off their products. That was the name of the game: be first to market and set the trend. Just when everyone else caught up, they changed the trend again. It’s how number one stays number one.
Keri shook her head and grinned. “Mr. Cole can be such a little boy sometimes. He loves to mess with people. Says it’s good to always keep ’em guessing.”
I gave Keri a smile, trying to hide my discomfort. “He got me. I had no idea.”
She shook her finger at me. “Gotta stay on your toes with that man—be ready for anything. But usually when he has you meet him at home it’s because he’s taking the company jet out of Wheeling.”
Wheeling was north of Chicago and not too far from where I lived. There was an executive airport there.
I laughed. She had no idea how relieved I felt. We’d be on a plane all night, and with the time difference, we’d probably be landing in Milan sometime in the afternoon. This was a business trip.
Then part of me realized I was going to Milan on C.C.’s company plane to attend the big fall reveal. The little girl inside squealed with delight. There may have been some pom-pom shaking, too. Go awesome me!
“I’ll be ready for his little surprises next time,” I replied.
“I doubt it. He always finds new ways to shock the hell out of me, and I’ve been working for him for two years.” Her eyes flashed on the envelope she’d laid on my desk. “That’s your passport and VIP tickets to the event—Mr. Cole forgot them on his desk.”
Keri had asked me to bring in my passport this morning for HR reasons—citizenship verification and for their travel department records.
“Have fun,” she said.
She left, and I finished packing up my things, thinking that this weekend would be the perfect opportunity to set the record straight with Cole.
I picked up my phone and decided to send Danny a little “rub it in” text.
Me: Guess who’s going to Milan tonight? Me. That’s right. And guess who I’m going with?
She didn’t know that being with Mr. Cole wasn’t the fantasy it was cracked up to be, but why not make her a little green anyway?
Danny: What? No! You whore! Stay away from my man or I’ll cut you! (Smiley face)
Me: I’ll send him your regards, you crazy bitch. C U Sunday. Pls. check on Mrs. Jcksn. XOXO
Danny: Bite me. Yes on Jcksn.
I laughed. She was so awesome. I’d definitely have to bring her back something nice like some Italian condoms.
~~~
Later that evening, I pulled up to Mr. Cole’s gated house on the lake, about forty minutes north of Chicago and about a half hour east of my apartment.
The home was every bit as impressive and intimidating as the man himself. To describe it would take about an hour and I still wouldn’t do it justice, so I’ll just say the thing was a two-story mini castle with a gray brick and stucco exterior. A high-pitched roof made the home appear more daunting and larger than it probably was, which was still pretty dang large.
As I reached to buzz the little pad near the gate, the wrought-iron fence slid open, and I pulled my red Mini up the long driveway lined with green lawn on both sides. The view of the lake to my right, where he had two boat docks and a beautiful yacht, was breathtaking. The entire place was exactly the sort of palace a girl like me dreamed of owning.
I pulled up between the front door and the circular fountain, wondering why I suddenly felt all nervous again. I knew he’d just been toying with me—testing out my backbone—and we’d be getting on a plane to Milan.
I guessed that was a good reason to be nervous, too. For me, this was an exciting trip to a place I’d always wanted to go. For him, it was therapy. He’d be shut up in a plane with me for twelve hours. Then he’d get a break and get to drool over the gorgeous runway models during the show. He’d probably snatch one up for the night, and then we’d see each other on the plane again to come home.
Look on the bright side, he’ll be a captive audience. Somewhere between now and the end of the trip, I’d tell him I had been joking about the sex but that I wanted to trade up—that’s what I’d call it—for shares in the company. If I did a good job, of course. In exchange, I’d put up with his shitty disorder and work my ass off for him. I’d also make it clear that I didn’t expect any special treatment just because I knew his ugly little secret. It was a fair deal.
Nervous as hell, I stepped from my car. I’d decided to change at the office and had worn my running clothes—as my own little joke—white tank top, pink and black running shorts, and my favorite black running shoes. My hair was loose around my face, though. Not how I usually wore it when I ran.
After ringing the doorbell twice and knocking a few more times without a response, I tried the door. It was unlocked, so I pushed. Hell, someone had let me through the front gate, and I’d been invited, so perhaps Mr. Cole expected me to show myself in?
Or the butler has gone home for the day? Did he even have a butler? I didn’t know.
The door creaked open. “Hello?” I called out.
No one answered as I stepped inside and looked around the opulent foyer that included a winding staircase, raised ceiling with chandelier, and grand arched doorways leading to several dark rooms.
“Mr. Cole?” I called out again.
“In here.” I heard his deep, hypnotic voice coming from the room to my right.
I followed the sound and stopped in the doorway.
“You’re late,” he growled.
No. I wasn’t. I’d arrived to his gate at exactly 7:55 p.m., but when my eyes spotted his silhouette seated in an armchair in the corner of what looked like his formal living room, the last thing on my mind was arguing.
The lights were off and with the sun setting outside, a faint shadow crossed over his beautiful face, giving him an especially intimidating and angry look.