Promise Me Forever: Manhattan Ruthless

I retreated to my room as soon as I could after watching half a dozen colleagues take the leap of faith themselves. I was unable to pay attention and felt like my brain was disconnected from my body, like someone pulled the cord. Drake made sure I was all right, which I faked well enough for him to let me go, but truthfully, I wasn’t. I suspect he knew that, but when I took off early, there wasn’t much he could do about it. He’s the boss, so he had to see this thing through.

I took a long shower, ordered some room service sandwiches that I have yet to touch, and climbed into bed. The whole hotel has been booked out by James and James, and I can already hear the signs of it turning into party central. There’s a low thump of music coming from the floor above, and the sound of a woman’s laughter floats in through the window. It’s still relatively early, but a lot of them have been drinking all day, starting with the mimosas. That’s obviously part of the whole deal and maybe why people look forward to this every year instead of dreading it.

Me, though? I’m not in a party mood. Drake being a coldhearted bastard toward me hurt, but I survived it. I told myself that he meant nothing to me. That I would do as he suggested and move across the building to work for Fred Darwin, and we would simply avoid each other. To be safe, I’d never have a one-night stand again, and that would be the end of the whole damn thing.

But Drake today? Drake apologizing? Flirting with me, touching me, holding me. That was too much. That and the stupid trust exercises have broken me in two and made me realize how deeply this thing runs between us. At least on my side.

I shiver a little in the air conditioning of the room and pull the duvet closer around me. I need to get up and get dressed, I know. I need to at least show my face downstairs, even if I don’t throw myself into the social whirlwind.

I check in on Mom first and see that a message has come in from Kimmy.

I grimace, not at all sure what the answer to that is.

As soon as it shows as read, my phone rings, and I have to smile. Kimmy never knowingly turns her back on gossip. I haven’t told her that Drake is the guy I had my wedding sex with. It’s not that I don’t trust her. I do. It’s just that I haven’t seen her in person. The last time we met face-to-face was the night before I started work at James and James. I really need to be breathing the same air as her before I can tell her the whole story. Like I said, she loves to gossip. While I know she wouldn’t tell anyone who shouldn’t know, I still want to look her in the eyes and make her promise that before I breathe a word.

“You know you’re my sister from another mister, right?” she says as soon as I pick up.

“Uh-huh, I do.”

“Well, as your sister—your big sister by all of three months—I have some advice for you. Go and fuck the hot boss, right now!”

I laugh. She makes everything sound so simple. It must be glorious to live in Kimmy’s world.

“I’m not drunk enough,” I reply.

“Well, there’s only one way to remedy that. Do you have a minibar?”

I took note of the minibar when I first checked in but had no intention of partaking. The prices in those things are usually through the roof, and a miniature vodka probably costs as much as a car, but this trip is all expenses paid. James and James doesn’t stint when it comes to employee care. I open the door and see that it’s fully stocked. “Okay, you’re right. About the drinking bit, anyway. I think I’ll go for a … hmmm. Wine, beer, or spirits?”

“Yes.”

I laugh again and decide to keep it simple with a bottle of Budweiser. I sit back on the bed, propped against the pillows with my beer and my pastrami on rye. A simple meal, but what else do I need? The last hotel I was in was the Grand Regent with Drake, and that was a night of champagne and fine Scotch—and a morning of gourmet breakfast. It was great, but I suspect I’m more a bottle of Bud kind of girl.

“So, are you going to fuck the boss?” Kimmy asks. “And if not, should I? If he’s that hot, I could try him out for you, maybe write up a review on PrickAdvisor?”

“Thanks for the offer. That’s so kind of you, but I think I’ll pass. On fucking him myself and also on you doing it by proxy. He’s my boss. That would be … messy.”

“Even better. What’s life without a little mess?”

“Tidy?” I suggest. “Organized? Safe?”

“Oh, give me a break—isn’t that what you had with Chad the Cad?”

I take a big bite of my sandwich to buy some time. And because damn, this sandwich is freaking delicious. She’s right, I know. At the time, I thought I loved Chad, but part of me stuck with him because he was safe. We’d been together since we were kids, and he was all I knew. He was like a comfort blanket in human form—until he wasn’t. But now, I know that what I felt for Chad was nothing. It was a puny spark compared to a forest fire. Physically, emotionally, intellectually even—Drake is ten times the man Chad ever was. He’s made me feel more in the last few months than Chad did in a lifetime together.

“You know what, Kimmy, I think you might just be right.”

“Of course I am. About what?”

“About everything. I need to live more, don’t I?”

She doesn’t answer straight away, but when she does, she sounds uncharacteristically serious. “Babe, you really do. I know things haven’t been easy for you, especially recently, with your mom and your marriage and money. But you’re way too young to hide yourself away. None of us have a clue how long we have on this glorious, fucked-up planet of ours, so maybe it’s time for you to start really going for it. You might make mistakes. You might crash and burn. But guess what? We all do. And your sister will always be here waiting to pick up the pieces.”

“Kimmy, stop it—you’re making me cry.”

She chuckles, and I can picture her mischievous expression. “All part of the service, ma’am. Now, stop talking to me and go fuck someone, will ya?”

After she hangs up on me, I finish my beer and look around my room, listening to the sounds coming from upstairs. I have no desire to join the party, to get wasted, or to find someone to fuck. Not just anyone, anyhow. There’s only one man I want to be anywhere near, and although I know it’s wrong, I can’t help thinking that he feels the same way.

Kimmy’s words still ringing in my ears, I throw on some clothes, brush my hair, and add some mascara. I don’t look like a model headed to a fashion show, but as I study myself in the mirror, I realize that I look okay. Chad never complimented my appearance, and I never thought anything of it because I’ve never felt deserving of them. But now that I take the time to really look, it’s easy to see some of what Drake sees when he looks at me the way he does. I have curves, and I’m not a size zero. But there is nothing wrong with me at all, and Chad can go fuck himself. Boy, that felt good to say—even if only in my own head.

I will go downstairs and see what happens. I will socialize. And I’ll talk to Drake. I’m already in love with the man, so what do I have to lose? Apart from hope, self-respect, and dignity, that is. I’ll leave it to fate.

I pass several rooms with open doors that each contain groups of people drinking and dancing and even spot Linda from HR in the hallway, sipping a clear drink with a wedge of lime on the rim. She nods at me as I go by, her mouth not quite smiling, but not set in her usual scowl either. It is indeed a time of miracles.

The elevator carries me down to the lobby, and as the doors open, I’m immediately confronted with the sight of Drake chatting with Nathan. I dart behind a huge potted plant that’s almost as tall as I am. If they turn around now, they’ll see my head perched on top of the greenery, like I’ve morphed into a giant yucca. Shit. I might have thought I wanted to leave things with Drake up to fate, but I didn’t expect for him to be the first thing I laid eyes on. I need a second to recalibrate.

I watch sneakily as the two of them chat and am once again struck by what a good relationship they have. He speaks so fondly about his other brothers and his father too, and although I was blessed with a great mom and never felt lonely, I have wondered over the years what a bigger family would look like.

I’m not close enough to hear everything they’re saying, but it seems like Drake is heading out. He’s wearing a stylish blue suit and a navy-blue tie, the casual look from earlier banished in favor of his usual awesome tailoring. I swear, nobody fills out a suit better than Drake James. He laughs at something Nathan says, and then they hug in that manly way that involves chest bumps and a high five. Drake strides toward the door of the hotel lobby, and I frown as I see Constantine outside, leaning against the hood of the car. Huh. Is he leaving for good? Going back to the city? He didn’t mention it earlier, but then again, he also didn’t say anything like “I’ll see you later” or “fancy some wild and passionate sex in your hotel room tonight?”

“Hey, Drake,” Nathan shouts. Drake turns around. “Enjoy your date—don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Drake laughs and leaves.

Grinning, Nathan walks off toward the bar, where a pretty brunette waits for him, devouring him with her eyes. That must be Melanie. At least I hope she’s his wife.

I lean back against the wall and catch my breath. Drake is going on a date. Drake is all gussied up in his Tom Ford–Superman suit and getting driven back to Manhattan. To go on a date. He spent the day flirting with me—or at the very least, being nice to me—and now he’s leaving. To go on a date. Of course he is.

For an allegedly intelligent woman, I am a complete fucking idiot.