Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) (13 page)

“I can’t see
that on the horizon for me,” I said.

“Trust me on
this.
 
It’ll happen.”

As we
approached the elevator, I felt calmer than I had earlier.
 
Jennifer Wenn was not only gorgeous and
wealthy, but she also was a surprisingly down-to-earth woman whom I liked
immediately.
 

“Let’s give
this a few more days,” she said.
 
“If Blackwell continues to be unreasonable, come to me, and Alex and I
will work things out with her on your behalf.
 
Because if she does go on with this façade
of hers too much longer, believe me, I have my own ways of dealing with her
when she gets out of line.”

When the
elevator opened, we stepped inside.

“So, how about
if we leave all of that behind and have a quick chat?
 
Where are you from, Madison?”

“Granville,
Wisconsin.”

“I’m not sure
that I’ve heard of it.”

“I don’t think
many have.
 
It’s a rural blip on the
map.”

“I come from
Maine,” she said.
 
“So, I know
rural.
 
How long have you been in
the city?”

“Two years.”

“Barbara
mentioned to Alex and me that you received your M.B.A. from Harvard.
 
If you don’t mind my saying, I have a
feeling that you didn’t go to that school to become a personal assistant. . .
.”

“You’d be
right.
 
But since I arrived in this
city with no connections, it’s been tough finding something better.
 
Unlike many of my peers at Harvard, I
know no one of importance here, which has set me back.”

“I remember
those days,” she said.
 
“They were
awful.”

“Believe me,
I’m grateful to have this job.
 
When
I interviewed, Ms. Blackwell said that there would be other opportunities for
me here if I proved myself to her.
 
So, I’m hoping that happens.”

The elevator
started to descend.

“I went through
a similar experience when I first came to Manhattan,” she said.
 
“I was out of work for four months
before I came to Wenn.
 
I know how
frustrating finding good work can be when it comes to this city.
 
It’s brutal.”

“It is,” I
said.
 
“But it hasn’t beaten me
yet.
 
I just need to focus, work
hard, and prove myself.”

“Wenn has
plenty of opportunities, Madison.
 
Now that I know your story, I’ll be talking to Blackwell about your
progress, and she and I will look for a better fit for you elsewhere at
Wenn.
 
Obviously, someone with your
background is being wasted fetching salads for Blackwell.
 
What would you like to do?”

“Marketing.
 
Maybe in Wenn’s music division?”

“Plenty of
opportunities there.
 
So, now that
we’ve met and I know what kind of a position you’re seeking, let me see what I
can do.”

“Thank you,” I
said.

“It’s my
pleasure.”

The elevator
stopped at the forty-seventh floor and the doors slid open.

“I can’t tell
you what this talk has meant to me,” I said to her.

She pressed her
hand against my shoulder before she stepped out of the elevator.
 
And then she paused and turned to look
at me.
 
“Not everyone comes from a
place of power and connections, Madison.
 
I know that myself.
 
So, good
luck to you.
 
Stay focused, work
hard, and know that I’ll be rooting for you.
 
Get in there and prove Blackwell
wrong.
 
If I could win her over,
then you certainly can.
 
We’ll talk
soon, OK?”

And with that,
the elevator doors shut, and Jennifer Wenn was gone.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

When I arrived
at the Wenn Fitness complex that was closest to the Wenn Enterprises building—it
was only a block south, which scored major points with me because of the
convenience—I couldn’t believe how upscale and posh the place was, not to
mention how terrific the music was.
 
Madonna’s latest remix was playing on the surround-sound system, and
with that alone, I was eager to start my workout.

While I assumed
that those who didn’t work for Wenn had to pay plenty to have the pleasure to
work out here, I couldn’t believe my luck that I didn’t have to pay a cent to
enjoy it.

Finally, a perk
I could use on the spot!

When I went to
the sleek, almost futuristic reception desk, an extremely muscular, impossibly
good-looking man somewhere in his late twenties greeted me.

“I’m Luc,” he
said.
 
“How can I help you?”

Perhaps by
taking off
your shirt?

Not that he
needed to—it was clear that Luc was one bench press shy of bursting out
of it.
 
He had a head of thick, close-cut
brown hair, a strong jawline, a body that was so well proportioned, it was
intimidating—but his smile was disarming, not arrogant, which was
refreshing to see.

“I’m actually
new here,” I said to him.
 
“I just
started at Wenn Enterprises.
 
I was
told that this was part of my benefits package.”

“Indeed it is,”
he said as he moved over to a computer.
 
“How about if I get your name, and we’ll get you set up in the system?”

“I’m Madison
Wells.”

“Madison
Wells,” he said as he typed my name into the computer.
 
After a moment, he said, “And there you
are.
 
Congratulations on joining
Wenn.”

“Thank you.”

“I see that
you’re Barbara Blackwell’s new personal assistant.”

“I am.”

“Then you’ll
probably have to focus on cardio and strength training,” he said with the hint
of a grin.

And her
reputation continues to soar through Manhattan like a lightning bolt slashing through
the sky.

“That would be
helpful,” I said.

“Part of your
first day here includes a tour of the facility.
 
I’d be happy to show you around once
you’ve changed into your gear.
 
We’ll also talk about your fitness goals.
 
When I have a handle on that, I’ll teach
you how to use the right machines properly so you can achieve them.
 
Does that work for you?”

“It does,” I
said.
 
“Just point me toward the
locker room, and I’ll be ready to go in five minutes.”

“It’s just
there over to your left,” he said.
 
“And by the way, each day you come to work out, come to the desk first
and we’ll give you a key to one of the lockers.
 
Before you leave, just drop the key here
at the desk.”
 
He handed me one.
 
“Today, your locker number is 146.
 
I’ll see you in five.”

*
 
*
 
*

After I’d
finished changing into my green-and-black striped tank, which daringly exposed
most of my midsection, and a pair of black spandex leggings with black-,
green-, and gray-colored sneakers, I put my hair in a high ponytail and left
the locker room to meet Luc.

When he saw me,
he folded his bulging arms in front of him and cocked his head to the
side.
 
“Maybe you don’t need my
help,” he said.
 
“Because you’ve
obviously been working out.
 
You
look terrific, Madison.”

“It helps that
Manhattan is a walking city, that’s for sure, because this is the first time
I’ve stepped into a gym since arriving here two years ago.”

“Seriously?”

“When I break a
sweat within five minutes, you’ll know that’s the case.”

“Then you’ve
clearly got good genes,” he said.
 
“Because not many newbies come here looking like you.
 
Let me show you around.”

As I followed
him into the large, open space with a sweeping array of windows that overlooked
the city, Luc pointed out a host of high-end machines, as well as a large area
for those who preferred to use free weights.
 

“I’m surprised
there isn’t much of a crowd,” I said to him.
 
“I think I’ve counted only about twenty
people here.”

“Wenn wants it
that way,” he said.
 
“A yearly
membership here costs ten grand, and people expect a lot for that kind of
money.
 
Like no waiting lines to use
the machines.
 
Personalized service
from licensed physical trainers.
 
That sort of thing.”

“Ten grand?”

“That’s
nothing,” he said.
 
“Some of the
really snooty places charge fifty grand per year, but you don’t want to go near
one of those—unless you like to surround yourself with a group of snobs.”

“That’s not
really an issue for me,” I said.
 
“Let’s just say that I’m not exactly part of that socioeconomic group.”

“Who is?” he
laughed.
 
“The whole idea behind
Wenn Fitness is that we do want to keep it somewhat exclusive, thus the price
of entry.
 
You’re mostly going to
see colleagues from work and also those who can pony up the ten grand to work out
here.
 
The latter group will mostly
be up-and-coming executives who have come to network their way into Wenn.
 
Be prepared for that, because I have a
feeling that you’re going to get a fair bit of it.”

“I’m little
more than a personal assistant.
 
What can I offer anyone?”

“Access to
Barbara Blackwell,” he said without missing a beat.
 
“Because of that alone, when word leaks
out what you do at Wenn, I’m pretty sure that you’re about to become very
popular here.”

*
 
*
 
*

I had just
finished my tour of the facility and was learning how to use a piece of
equipment that would strengthen my arms when I saw Brock walk through the front
doors.
 

Gone were the
khakis, the white button-front shirt, and the blue blazer he’d worn at the
office.
 
Now he was wearing a
skin-tight white T-shirt that clung to him in ways that were unthinkably cruel
and a faded pair of Levi 501s that revealed the generous curve of his ass, as
well as the sizable bulge at his crotch.
 
Each caught me off guard in ways that made me blush.
 
I’d seen the man in a suit, but like
this?
 

If there was a
God, this man continued to stand as proof of that.

As I watched
him, my heart quickened as I tried to sort out how we could possibly be here
together right now.
 
I’d said
nothing to him about coming here when we had coffee this morning, but there was
no way in hell that this was by pure coincidence.
 

And then it
occurred to me.
 
He must have have
overheard me when I was standing outside Blackwell’s door and had not only
mentioned coming here to her, but also to Jennifer.
 

After all,
Brock’s own door had been open.

“Are you all
right,” Luc asked.
 
“Are the weights
too heavy?
 
You’ve suddenly gone
tense.”

“No, no,” I
said as I saw Brock catch my eye before I turned away from him and looked over
my shoulder at Luc.
 
“A co-worker I
recently met just came in.
 
I’m so
new at Wenn, I’m surprised that I’d recognize anyone at all.”

“You’ll get
used to it,” he said.
 
“Now, before
you begin again, do you mind if I show you how you could correct your posture
so you get the best out of this workout?
 
I’ll need to touch you in order to do so, and because of house rules, I
need to ask your permission before I do so.”

This man had
been nothing if not professional since I’d met him.
 
He certainly wasn’t going to make an
inappropriate move, so I shrugged.
 
“Sure,” I said.
 
“I’m here to
learn.
 
What am I doing wrong?”

As Luc placed one
hand against my flat stomach and his other hand against the base of my back, he
straightened me with ease while Brock blatantly looked on in annoyance while he
waited for someone to greet him at the front desk.

“If you sit
like this,” Luc said, “your arms will be able to stretch out completely in ways
that they weren’t able to before because you weren’t sitting properly.
 
So, when you use this machine, make sure
that your back is pressed against the back of the seat and that your core is
absolutely upright and straight.
 
When it is, you’ll see the difference.
 
So, go ahead and try it now.
 
That’s right.
 
Nice and slow.
 
The slower you go and the more you
extend your arms, the less bulk you will build.
 
What we’re going for here is strength,
sure, but we’re also trying to enhance the feminine tone you’ve already
achieved.”

As I went
through the exercise, I glanced over at Brock, and saw that he was now going
through the same motions I’d gone through when I’d signed up for Wenn Fitness
thirty minutes ago.
 
He was talking
to one of the other trainers—a beautiful blonde woman in her mid-twenties
who was leaning over the counter and apparently getting his information before
she pulled back and started to use the computer in front of her.

And there it
was—this was indeed his first time here.
 
There was now no question that he’d
heard me mention to Blackwell and Jennifer that I was coming here to work out,
and he’d decided to come along for the ride.
 
Busted!

“That was
perfect,” Luc said.
 
“How about if
we try the leg-extension machine?”

“Sorry?” I
said.

“I think you’ve
mastered this,” he said with a curious look on his face.
 
“Would you like to try to work on your
legs?”

“Of course,” I
said—and when I spoke, even I could hear how flustered I was because I
knew it was only a matter of time before Brock came over to me.
 
And what was I to say to him then?
 
That he looked hot in his jeans?
 
That I’d wished he’d taken me seriously
when we’d met for coffee?
 
I
actually wanted to say both to him, because each was true.
 
I looked at Luc.
 
“As you pointed out earlier, I’m hoping
to build up the strength in my legs so I can get through the day.
 
She has me running everywhere.”

“No
problem.
 
Have you been experiencing
any muscle weakness lately?”

Oh, Luc, Luc,
you don’t even know.
 
With Brock
standing thirty feet away from me?
 
Right now, my legs feel as if they don’t have bones.

“A bit.
 
But I can always improve.”

“Then let’s
step over to the next machine.”

When I stood,
Brock looked directly at me.
 
I saw
his gaze sweep over my body, which was practically naked, and then, after a
long moment in which he seemed to take in as much of me as he could, he nodded
at me.
 
I nodded back.
 
He glanced at Luc, appeared to size him
up, and then he looked back at me with a lifted eyebrow.

And . . . what
was that about?
 
Does he think that
I’m interested in Luc?
 
Is he
somehow jealous?

“Have a seat
here,” Luc said.

“A seat?” I
said.

“Yes.
 
If you could sit here, we can try some
leg extensions to strengthen your quads.
 
Then we’ll move to other machines that will help you improve your hams
and calves.
 
Coupled with cardio
over the course of a few weeks, these exercises alone should be enough to
strengthen your body so you can tackle whatever Ms. Blackwell tosses your way.”

“A few
weeks?
 
I need this done ASAP,
Luc.
 
Between us, she’s already
running me ragged.”