Natalie was mid-chew on a mouthful of salad when her assistant, Shane, knocked resolutely on her office door.
"I brought you coffee," he said cheerfully, making the coffee cup dance in his grasp as he passed the threshold and headed towards her desk.
Natalie eyed him suspiciously, knowing better than to just accept a free coffee without any strings. "You've added something to my schedule last minute, haven't you?"
"Maybe." He bit his lip and closed his eyes as he nodded. "Yes," he relented. Natalie took the coffee and sipped from it generously as Shane took a seat opposite her desk. He crossed his legs and very flamboyantly flipped his head until the longest lock of his highlighted hair danced off his forehead and landed with a soft bounce on the top of his head. "Evil Jenifer-with-one-N from Graham Martin's office sent out emails to the veeps and other higher ups while you were out at lunch. Word around the cubes is there's going to be a shakeup."
The 'cubes', or cubicles, were Shane's domain. There wasn't an ounce of office gossip he didn't know about first, which both amused and terrified Natalie. So far she'd done a pretty good job of hiding her unethical affair with one of Brighton Media's biggest clients. Shane liked to gossip, but never with malicious intent. She never once had the suspicion that he knew about what she was really doing on her lunch breaks. In fact she suspected that he believed she wasn't capable of doing anything that might be considered indiscreet.
"A shakeup? Restructuring? Chapter eleven? What?" she asked, leaning forward into the conversation in just as conspiratorially a fashion as her young assistant.
"Nothing scandalous. I think." He paused and looked as though he was questioning even himself. "The Secretary of Evil was rather vague about it."
Natalie glanced behind Shane to the interior windows of her office to make sure the woman herself - Jenifer, Graham Martin's secretary, and indeed an onerous woman - or anyone else with ears wasn't passing by the office to hear Shane's less than kind, if not completely untrue, words.
"So when is the meeting?"
"Little less than an hour from now so you should have time to finish your lunch."
Natalie smiled and double-checked through her calendar to see the newly scheduled meeting for herself. When she looked back at Shane a moment he was still staring at her and the half-eaten salad sitting in front of her on the desk. "Thank you for the coffee, by the way."
"You're welcome. You've been eating out a lot lately. I haven't seen you eating out of a recycled birthday or Christmas bag for at least a week."
Natalie smiled politely and tried not to let her mind wander to recent memories of straddling James in the back seat of his car. "There's been so much prep work to do for next week that I've sort of been forgetting to pack a lunch. Or buy groceries, now that I think about it." She had been ordering a lot of takeout for dinner lately, now that she really thought about it.
"Well I don't know where you get your salad from but you should keep going. You're glowing!"
She chuckled and felt her cheeks flush with heat. She had to change the subject. "Anything else added to the schedule last minute?"
"Not really. I'll let you know if I hear anything about this supposed shakeup!" And with a final swing of his hair Shane was out of her office and back in his own cubicle, gaily chatting away with Hunter from Human Resources.
A ping from Natalie's phone caught her attention, and when she picked up the device she saw a few messages from Quinn.
'Quinn: Want to get lunch?'
'Quinn: Why do you always look so refreshed after lunch?'
'Quinn: You're not going to Kate Sommerville without me, are you?'
'Quinn: Your dress is inside out.'
Natalie blanched at the newest text and immediately stood to look for the seams of her shift dress. The navy blue color made it difficult to see even underneath the bright incandescent lighting. She made a beeline for the nearest restroom and locked herself in a toilet stall, removing the dress and flipping it outside-in before shimmying back into the garment. When she opened the stall door Quinn was waiting for her, leaning against a sink as though she were a model posing in Vogue magazine. No one but Quinn could show up to work in a black leather tee shirt and rose print silk capris and still look professional.
"You must have had a fun lunch," she quipped.
"I left my apartment in such a hurry this morning I must have temporarily forgotten how to dress." She couldn't knowingly lie and look her friend in the face so she instead busied herself with washing and drying her hands.
"That.
Or
your lunch date failed to notice you'd put your dress back on inside-out." Quinn's smile was devilish and playful, two qualities Natalie had grown to love about her friend. If not for Quinn introducing Natalie to the world of secret clubs where gentlemen bid on candidates she would have never met James. And she was more than a little happy that Quinn and James had never previously crossed paths. "How is James by the way?"
Natalie's eyes widened and she immediately checked around in the adjacent stalls to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "Quinn!"
"What? There are literally millions of men named James. Honestly Natalie don't be so paranoid. I'm the only one who knows what's going on with you two."
Natalie thought of Shane and his impressive ability to know everything, most of it seemingly before it ever even happened. "He's fine," she relented once she was positive they were the only two present.
"Just fine?"
"Well, okay
that part
is always amazing. But otherwise, fine. Although we're both getting a bit tired of the cloak and dagger routine."
"So just quit your job already." Quinn swatted her hand through the air as though the concept of quitting a job to spend more time being a professional girlfriend was totally natural. "There are other jobs out there. Jobs where you don't have to hide who you're sleeping with."
"Jobs where I could work directly for the man I'm sleeping with..." Natalie trailed off, remembering James' ridiculous offer to have her come work for him. As if that was an idea she'd even so much as entertain the notion of.
She checked her cell phone for the time and excused herself from Quinn, promising details over drinks after work. One stop by her office to pick up a pen and notepad and she was on her way to the surprise 'restructuring' meeting.
"That was what the last minute meeting was for? New hires?" Quinn scoffed at the boring details of the hour long meeting that included video conferences with two employees from the San Francisco office who would be joining the Los Angeles office the following week.
Natalie stirred the olive around her half-empty martini glass. "Technically they're transfers. They were a bit overstaffed up there and since we've had so many new clients come in they decided to bring in the help internally instead of hiring from the outside."
"Anyone we know?" Quinn asked before sipping from her standard order: a glass of champagne.
"Ivy Whitcomb, a junior VP like me. And Joe Gallo, a project manager I think. Not a junior VP but apparently has a great rapport with all of his accounts."
"Joe Gallo?" Quinn asked, her eyebrows raised ever so slightly. "I met him at last year's company event."
"Oh yeah? What's he like?" Natalie casually asked.
Quinn licked her lips and smiled at some unspoken thought or memory. "Like a tree any woman would climb in a heartbeat."
Natalie nearly spit out her drink. "Does that mean what I think it means?"
Quinn side-eyed her. "You know, for someone who spends her lunch hours getting nooners you are kind of-" Quinn's hand swished in the air as though she were trying to churn the word she was looking for into existence. "Virginal," she settled.
Natalie shrugged. "At least I'm having nooners," she said with a wink.
By the time Natalie made it home from the bar the sky was dark and the Santa Anas were blowing a chilly air across her cheeks. She set her purse and phone down by the console at the front door and slipped her shoes off, immediately relishing the feel of plush carpeting beneath her tired feet and toes.
One glance inside the refrigerator reminded her she hadn't gone to the grocery store in... She couldn’t even remember how long. All she had were eggs, coffee creamer and a takeout container she could not remember the contents of.
'What I'd love is for you to come over to my place.'
Natalie sighed and glanced up at the time display on the microwave. It wasn't that late. She was starving. And he'd been taking up space in the back of her mind since leaving his car that afternoon.
We'll make it work.
Ignoring her aching feet, she slipped back into her shoes, picked up her phone and her purse, and walked out the door.
"Good evening, Miss Harlow. How lovely to see you again." Charlie, the Jacqueline's doorman, was always dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit instead of the standard uniform for a doorman. Natalie had met him only a handful of times, all for work-sanctioned purposes, but the hotel staff had been instructed in the ways of always knowing the names of people important to Fitson Entertainment Groupe, and Natalie was on that list. She'd met James and his partner Audra Robertson -- Chief Operating Officer of Fitson Entertainment Groupe, and the woman responsible for every male employee of every property donning beautifully tailored suits instead of stuffy uniforms -- in the boutique hotel's restaurant on a few occasions, always for lunch meetings to discuss ideas and strategy for the Jacqueline.
One of the perks of having Fitson Entertainment Groupe's account was exclusive access to their properties and complimentary accommodations, meaning the next time she visited Vegas she could stay at Eden's luxurious Garden Suite, the very same suite James stayed when in Vegas, and the site of their reunion five months after their night together at the Golden Palm. And though she had been given a tour of the lavish penthouse at the Jacqueline where she was welcome to stay (though considering she already lived in the city there was really no reason), she'd never once gone back to it, knowing full well it was where James was temporarily calling 'home'. The staff knew her as Ms. Harlow from Brighton, not Natalie who was James' frequent fuck buddy.
Natalie accepted a ticket from the valet and handed over her keys while balancing her purse and a bag of takeout in the other hand. "Hello, Charlie," she greeted the doorman. "How's your evening so far?"
"Can't complain, ma'am, not when the Santa Anas are blowing like this!"
Natalie gave him a playful ribbing. "You're not superstitious about the Santa Anas causing earthquakes, are you?"
"This is Los Angeles. I just assume every day is an earthquake day."
She was about to respond when an unseen force ran into her, throwing off her balance and sending her purse and the takeout straight down to the foyer floor.
"Excuse me-"
"Pardon me-"
The woman merely glanced for a moment at the dropped belongings before offering Natalie an insincere smile. She was tall and lithe, her silky blonde hair done up in a chic updo and an actual coat and wool scarf wrapped around her shoulders as though she were in the middle of winter. Charlie bent down almost immediately to retrieve Natalie's belongings and stuff them back into her purse as the woman absconded to the valet.
Charlie handed Natalie the two bags and offered her a more genuine smile than the blonde woman, who was already half gone by the time Natalie smiled her goodbye to Charlie and headed towards the elevators. Two young women at the check-in desk gave polite waves as they spotted her, and a bellhop tipped his hat in her direction.
Don't panic. As far as they know you're having a late night meeting with James.
It wasn't particularly scandalous for her to be there but even knowing that did nothing to prevent the ounce of paranoia that nagged at her every time a hotel employee recognized her on her way up to the penthouse.
She pressed the doorbell outside the double-door entrance to the penthouse suite and took in a deep breath, letting it out twice as slowly as she'd inhaled it.
The left-side door swung open inwards and James did a double take at her appearance. "Natalie."
Maybe it was just the latent paranoia... "You look surprised to see me."
James smiled and shook his head, opening the door wider to make room for her. "No. I mean, yes I'm surprised you're here. But only because I wasn't expecting you."
"Well you said you wished I would come, so here I am. I brought food." She gestured with the takeout bag before placing it down on the dining room table. "I got you barbeque brisket on a sourdough roll and an order of that white truffle mac and cheese I've been raving to you about." She set her bag down and turned to find James by the closed front door, his hand still on the handle. He looked a bit disheveled; honey colored hair mussed and his white shirt and suit slacks wrinkled like he'd slept in them for at least two days. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he said through a forced smile. His fingers scrubbed over the stubble across his cheeks and jawline before running through his hair. "I had an unexpected meeting that ran late. I'm starving."
"Well hopefully it's not too jostled," Natalie replied, turning her attention back to the takeout. "Had a bit of an accident down in the lobby. A run-by walking."
"Oh?" James asked with half-interest. His eyes were locked on the food containers but his mind was clearly somewhere else.
"Anyway shall we eat completely nude in the bathtub?"
James wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his embrace until her backside was flush against his front. "Is that some sort of new kink you want to try?" He asked before kissing at her ear, his concentration spell seemingly broken.
"Oh so you
are
listening!" She smiled and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his contact spread across her skin.
"I am. I'm sorry." He buried his face in her neck and let his lips linger on her skin for a moment. "Nothing could make me happier than you being here right now. Wait," he said after a beat, "did you say 'run-by walking'?"
Her phone vibrated loudly from within her purse. James untucked her from his embrace and she fished for the device. "I did. The woman was probably too busy concentrating on one of these-" she held up the vibrating device but stopped short of finishing her sentence. "This isn't my phone."
The device was housed in a black quilted case with two intertwined C's stitched on the front. Clearly out of her price range. She opened the flap to check the screen for the caller ID and only just made out the name
'Jacqueline'
before James took the phone and answered it.
"Hello?" he asked before Natalie could ask what he was doing. His face paled as he listened to the caller on the other side. "I'll have it sent down to the lobby for you to pick up. No, you don't...
Shit!
" He cursed as he brought his hand down, the call seemingly over.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing. I'll be right back."
"No. Stop!" she raised her voice when he turned to leave. "Was that the phone's owner calling from downstairs?"
"Natalie please just wait here while I take care of this," he pleaded, barely able to look her in the eye.
"Take care of what? James?" What the hell was going on?
"I-" Before he could say another world the doorbell rang. Natalie pushed past him to the double-doors but he was quick to follow her from behind, nearly bumping into her himself as she stopped to open the door.
The blonde in the coat and wool scarf stood on the other side, her mouth open to speak but her eyes shifting back and forth between Natalie and James as soon as the door was open. In an instant her expression changed, her eyes honing in on Natalie as her lips sharpened into a pert and almost arrogant smile.
"Well this is an unexpected surprise," she spoke, her voice so crisp on every syllable as though she were narrating her own life. "I was wondering when our paths would cross." The woman held out her hand.
Natalie felt like her brain had been replaced with a fog bank that left her feeling nothing but confused and slightly disoriented. The pieces were there but she couldn’t see the picture. She picked up the woman's cell phone by mistake. James answered when the woman called. And she knew to come to the penthouse.
"You're much younger than I expected," the woman spoke. "Prettier, too. At least according to my sister's description."
"Who-" Natalie began.
"Celine Robertson-Fitzgerald," the woman interrupted, her hand still extended and her smile a perfect mix of serene arrogance. "James' wife."