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ChapterFifteen
Jonathan
I think if I run hard enough and fast enough, I can escape my feelings for Emelia.
I pound the pavement until I feel like my knees might explode. I should have stopped two miles back, but I still haven’t managed to erase the insane urge to pounce on my poor little employee, so I continue to punish myself.
It’s the Monday after the gala, and I can’t stop thinking about her. I’m no poet, but I could write a sonnet about her in that dark red dress. I saw her from across the ballroom as she was making her way through the crowd toward the exit. Her head was bowed and she was trying so hard to sneak around people and stay in the shadows. Little did she know, she lit up that room like a firework. A red seductress. A woman I wanted to possess wholly.
Heavy, dark rain clouds seem to mimic my mood.
A call from my mother interrupts my thoughts and my run, and I take it, hoping she’ll prove a good distraction.
“I’m looking at pictures of Saturday night,” she tells me. “I see you skipped the step-and-repeat. Would it have killed you to stand there politely and smile for charity? They could have splashed the images all over their website. No matter—they managed to catch you inside while you were standing with Christopher and some woman in a red dress, andthat’swhy I’m calling.”
“You’re kidding.”
I was with Emelia in public for one second. Half a second. How did they get a photo of us?
“She’s stunning. I’ve sent her picture to your sister as well, and we both think you two would make lovely children.”
I slow to a walk, breathing hard from my run.
“I’m hanging up.”
“Now don’t get testy. I can see there is quite an age difference between you, but your father and I have a gap between us and that’s only served to spice things—”
She doesn’t finish getting her sentence out before I’ve hung up on her.
My phone vibrates with a text a few seconds later.
Oh you’re no fun. I expect updates from you soon on Ms. Brunette. Like I said, STUNNING.
So much for her helping me forget about Emelia.
I stuff my phone in my pocket and turn back toward home, finally ready to throw in the towel. I’m less than a mile from my house when the dark clouds that taunted me my entire run finally decide to put their money where their mouth is. Big fat raindrops pour down as I sprint up my stoop and through my front door.
I fling off my dirty shoes and shirt and shorts, tossing the clothes into the laundry room on my way to take a shower.
In a few minutes I’ll go to work and endure another day with Emelia just out of my reach. I’m trying my hardest to keep my distance from her, to give her the same courtesy she’s giving me. Not only to avoid hypocrisy, but because I’m trying to do what’s right, whatshouldbe done.
Even still, when I walk into the office later, I search for her, not of my own volition but because of some innate need. I can’t resist the urge the same way I can’t resist my next breath. She’s with her team, speaking with Lewis and Doug. She looks lovely, stylish,young. She doesn’t see me walk past, and I’m glad for it. I overstepped on Saturday. I should have let her leave through the front door of the gala and not bothered to get her a car. She would have made it home fine. I didn’t need to call my driver and check to see if he’d watched her get into her apartment safely.
To continue my efforts to stay away from her, I try an abstinence diet the rest of the day. I don’t pass by her desk if I can help it. In fact, I don’t even leave my office. I have my lunch delivered. Candace brings it in for me, commenting about my workaholic tendencies getting the better of me, but instead of listening to her, I lean back slightly in my chair to see if I have a clear sight line down the hall—straight to Emelia’s desk. I do, but she’s not there.Fuck.
Christopher finds me after lunch. We’re supposed to review plans for the Boston Harbor project. I ask him a question about the electrical layout, and when he doesn’t know the answer off the top of his head, I heave an annoyed sigh.
He laughs at my over-the-top reaction. “Jesus, what is with you? Don’t get me wrong, you’re usually an asshole, but lately, you’ve been worse. Do me a favor and go on a damn run or something.”
“I’ve tried that.”
“Right. Well what about Miranda? Can she come to town soon? Maybeshe’dfix the problem.”
Miranda isn’t who I want, and fate knows it.
It’s after six PM by the time I let myself leave my office, and the rain from earlier hasn’t abated. I pull out of Banks and Barclay’s underground parking garage and crank my windshield wipers. Traffic is crawling because of the weather, and rush hour isn’t helping. I’m completely stopped in bumper-to-bumper traffic just outside the building when I look in my rearview mirror and catch sight of Emelia walking on the sidewalk, fighting against the downpour. Her umbrella is whipping in the wind, and then she drops something on the ground and has to double back to pick it up.
In my head, I chastise her for not taking better care of herself, for not making a contingency plan for a rainy day like this.
