“You write a blog? You must send me the link!” Claire declares. “I want to follow it!”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I say, embarrassed.
“Isn’t that the point of a blog? To have people follow it?” Rupert asks.
William shoots me an I-told-you-so look, and I blush again.
“I’ll get your address and send you the link,” I say.
“That’s progress,” William declares, his beautiful eyes shining affectionately at me.
The rest of dinner goes by way too fast. We all have fun and laugh and linger at the table far too long. Finally, it is time for us to head back to London, but before I leave I make Connectivity Connects with both Rupert and Claire.
I climb back into the Aston Marin and as William drives us back down the driveway, I feel a happiness I have never known before. I am so honored to have met William’s family. I am so thrilled they seemed to like me as much as I liked them. That they saw something different in William, something they had never seen before, because of me.
And while my head tells me I should be terrified by the fact that I feel like a part of his family with zero commitment from William about a serious relationships, zero acknowledgement about a future with him, I don’t care. I really don’t.
I have never been this happy in my entire life.
And I realize I have gone far, beyond a match at this point.
I’ve lit a candle.
The flame is hot and I cannot touch it, but for now I am content to let it burn. And I have to trust my heart that when June rolls around and William is heading back to England, that maybe, just maybe, something will be done to keep the flame alive—rather than blowing the candle out for good.
Chapter 18
It is cloudy and gray on Monday morning as I step into the cab to go to work, but inside I feel joyous. That is the best way to describe it. I feel excited and happy and I cannot wait to see William at the Connectivity offices this morning.
I am still glowing from Sunday night, the fact that his family embraced me with such open arms. That they see a change in him because of me.
But most of all, I am so honored that William let me in to that world—the world he has so fiercely and privately protected—means more to me than he could ever know.
Beep!
I pick up my iPhone and see I have a text message from William.
Please text me as soon as you are at your desk in Siberia. Situation shall be rectified this morning. WC
I bite my lip. Oh, shit. I knew he wouldn’t let this go but I have a feeling this will not be beneficial to me in the long run. Arabella could be really nasty to me for calling her out to William.
Of course, on the other hand, if he gives Arabella a final warning and goes all badass mogul on her, she would be careful to even breathe near me, let alone say another word to me about anything other than business.
Before I can answer, my phone beeps again with another text message from William.
Are you wearing a headband? WC
I blush furiously as I read his text. William really has this thing for my headbands. Probably because he likes to slowly pull them out and then play with my hair when we are making out, which I find damn hot, but today he is not getting his wish.
I text him back:
No. I did something different with my hair today.
It’s a surprise so that is all you are getting for now. MKG
I touch my sleek ponytail. I brushed it back, then wrapped some of my own hair around it. Then I went with an edgy outfit, a black three-quarter-sleeved turtleneck sweater and a cobalt blue wool mini skirt, paired with black opaque tights and black booties.
An outfit wouldn’t be me without something quirky, though. So being that I love old jewelry, I threw on a studded gold cuff bracelet I found at a vintage shop in Chicago, one that looks like it is from the ‘70s and very cool, as well as some chunky vintage cocktail rings.
But I wanted to switch up the look to keep William on his toes, of course.
Beep!
I glance down and see a return text from William.
Intriguing text, Mary-Kate. Hint? WC
I snicker to myself.
No hints. You will have to see it firsthand. Now please go run your
empire rather than trying to deduce my wardrobe styling for the day. MKG
I flip over to my emails and see about fifteen from Michelle with nasty subject lines on them. I take a deep breath and begin to skim the titles.
PLEASE RESPOND: BOBBI BROWN OR MAC Lipstick?
MK YOU HAVE NOT RESPONDED RE: LIPSTICKS.
ARE YOU EVEN ALIVE? LIPSTICK! HELLO?
YOU ARE IN THIS WEDDING, ACT LIKE IT!
MK, NOW YOU ARE UPSETTING MOM. RESPOND RE: LIPSTICK!
Oh my God! I throw my iPhone into my purse as my blood pressure goes up. I am in
London
. Working in the
Connectivity World Headquarters.
I am learning from people at the top of the digital media world, absorbing their thoughts and ideas. I am starting to realize what I want to pursue professionally. But does anyone in my freaking family even care? Do they understand how huge this is? No.
And they know nothing about William. My family has no idea that I am, without a doubt, falling in love with him, which is just as big to me as everything going on at Connectivity. They don’t know he is changing what I want and what I need and while sometimes it scares me, I find myself re-evaluating all my previous thoughts on love and relationships because of him. That I am risking my heart, which I have
never
wanted to do before I met him, on the chance he might stay come June?
So while I am wrestling with my future—
everything
in my future—I am being harassed over a lipstick brand? Give me a fucking break.
I am steaming by the time I arrive at The Shard. I get out of the cab and head inside the building, thinking I need some amaretto to dump into my coffee to take this edge off, but will have to make do with Coffee-mate instead.
I greet the receptionist, who still gives me the
whore
look and a pinched smile every time I see her, and trek back to exile. I take off my coat, drape it over my chair, and turn on my computer. I grab my phone and text William that I am here. He replies instantly.
Will be right there. Don’t move. WC
Alrighty then. I pull up my work emails, and there are like ten bossy ones from Arabella, so I start skimming through them. More copying, more label making, more filing, blah, blah, blah.
Finally I hear footsteps. I look up and see Arabella and William heading toward me. William looks freaking furious, and Arabella is hurrying behind him, her face ashen.
I stand up as they approach. William stops dead in his tracks. His eyes flicker over me, and I can tell my hair and outfit have completely interrupted his badass mogul train of thought. He rakes a hand through his waves, which interrupts my train of thought. Then he shifts back into mogul mode, strides up to me, and stops right at the edge of my cubicle.
“Ms. Dalton, please explain to me, after taking this walk all the way down to
exile
, why you considered this an appropriate place for Ms. Grant to work during her stay here?” William snaps, his voice like ice.
Arabella swallows and says nothing.
I can see she is trying to figure a way out of this, but nothing has come to her yet.
“Oh, and if you tell me nobody was on holiday or out of the office last week, you will be
lying
,” William says, his blue eyes flashing. “I had Human Resources pull time off requests. And there were two vacant offices and one available cubicle on this floor that Ms. Grant could have been using this entire time.”
Ooooh shit!! William is sooooo good.
“Mr. Cumberland, I . . . I . . .” Arabella stammers. “I . . . thought Ms. Grant might need room to spread out since she was doing so much paper assembly.”
“Do not lie, Ms. Dalton. I will not tolerate it,” William snaps.
“No, Mr. Cumberland, I am not lying!” Arabella protests.
I study her. Good Lord, she is totally freaked right now. Her eyes are darting all over the place and she won’t even
glance
at me.
“Fine. If that
is
the truth, which I sincerely
doubt
, then it will be perfect for you two to switch places this week. Obviously you think one requires a whole build out area to assemble packets or whatever it is you have Ms. Grant doing.”
I furrow my brow. Arabella looks like she wants to throw up.
“What?” she asks.
“
Do I need to repeat myself
?” William roars. “You,
Ms. Dalton
, will work
here
this week. Ms. Grant will use your desk and she will perform your duties this week on my behalf.”
Bah ha ha! Arabella is getting a taste of her own medicine! And I get to work hand in hand with William! Oh, oh, this was soooo worth being banished here for a week!
“But, Mr. Cumberland—” Arabella begins to protest.
“Do not,” William says, his voice low, “
Mr. Cumberland
me. You will go back to your desk, get what you need, and work
here
for the week.” William turns to me. “Ms. Grant, get your things and come back with me to my office, please, as we will go over my schedule.”
“Yes, Mr. Cumberland,” I say.
I quickly lean over and log off my computer. Then I fold my coat over my arm and grab my tote.
Arabella is standing there with a look of utter shock on her face. Jesus, I think she might cry. I know I would if William Cumberland had just gone all badass on me like that.
I walk off with William, and we say absolutely nothing to each other as we move through the hallways. I see a few people glance up as we go by, and there is no doubt in my mind this will be a big conversation in the break room today.
But I don’t care. Let them talk. I know the truth. I know what I have in front of me, a good career and William, and nothing else matters. It just doesn’t.
We reach William’s office and he lets me step inside first. He shuts the door behind him and he strides over to his desk. He leans against the front of his desk, facing me.
“I do believe,” he says slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, “the situation is now officially rectified in a most appropriate manner.”
“William!” I cry, smiling at him, “you were fucking brilliant. And such a badass!”
William cocks an eyebrow at me. “I infer you rather like when I am a badass.”
I can feel my cheeks flaming. “Uh . . .”
“Careful now,” William says, his mouth curving up in a slow, sexy smile, “you just saw how I react when people lie to me. Unless you are lying to me to provoke another badass response, which I find immensely flattering.”
“William!” I cry, laughing. “Okay, yes, I find it insanely hot when you go all mogul badass on people,” I admit.
Now William is really grinning. “Interesting. If that is the case, I could go run around and go ‘badass,’ as you say, to turn you on.”
Oh God. Now I am really blushing. I am quite sure my cheeks match my red hair right now.
“Speaking of turn-ons,” William says, dropping his voice, “I rather fancy your outfit today, Mary-Kate.”
“Thank you,” I say happily.
“The ponytail,” William says, raking a hand through his dark waves, “is particularly fetching on you.”
“That is immensely flattering of you to say,” I say, flirting right back with him. “Although I suspect you will be undoing it later tonight.”
I watch as his eyes go intense. Yes, I got him with that one. He stares at me for a moment, fiddles with his hair again, and then clears his throat.
“I have a conference call I have to be on around dinner time,” William says. “But still come over at the usual time.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll stop and get some stuff to make dinner, and I’ll have it ready by the time you are off your call.”
William stares at me. “I wish we could go be alone right now.”
My heart melts. “I know. But at least I can see you now during the day.” I clear my throat. “And I should probably go out there and see how many phone calls you’ve missed this morning.”
“Right,” William says, rather unconvincingly.
“And I assume you will need airline tickets booked to Sydney,” I say, still hating the fact that he has to take Arabella there instead of me.
William rubs his hand over his mouth for a second. “Yes. Friday. First flight out, I suppose.” Then he stares at me with a glimmer in his eyes. “Feel free to seat Arabella in cargo if you so desire.”
I burst out laughing and then snort, which makes him laugh, too.
“I will make sure she is not seated with you,” I say. I think about this for a second. “Although my guess is she will try to reseat herself next to you online.”
“Oh bloody hell,” William says. “Seat me next to an already taken seat and put her as far away from me as possible.”
“With pleasure, Mr. Cumberland,” I say professionally, teasing him.
He grins and laughs. “Thank you, Peppa.”
“Stop it!” I cry, which makes him laugh again. Then I go to walk out the door but William stops me.
“Mary-Kate?”
I turn around. “Yes?”
“While we shall stick to our usual routine of you meeting me at my place this week, I have plans for our last night in London on Thursday,” he announces. “I insist that I pick you up. I’ll have the driver that night. And dress up if you like.”
Oooooooh! My pulse surges at this tidbit.
“We are venturing out?” I ask, intrigued. We have made a point to keep a low profile so far, so I’m very curious about his idea to go out on our last night here.
“Indeed,” William says, locking his gaze on mine. “I have something rather grand planned, but that is all you are going to get out of me for now.”
“William!” I cry in excitement. “How can you bait me like this? I want to know!”
“Want to know and need to know are two very different things,” William declares, walking around to his desk. He turns and flashes me a sexy smile. “Trust me, you will not be disappointed.”
Oh dear God. As I study him in his white dress shirt and perfectly fitted gray suit pants, I think William could take me to a supermarket and I wouldn’t be disappointed.
“All right, you win.
This time
,” I say, smiling at him. He laughs, and I open the door to go over to Arabella’s desk. She has already been here as her computer is logged off and everything is clear on her workspace. I sit down and reboot her computer so I can log in.