IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(20)

And then I remembered I’d forgotten to plug it in the night before when I’d slammed it facedown on my desk.

Fuck.

I stood up from my office sofa half-naked and pulled up my suit pants to redress before crossing to the desk and plugging my phone in. Before it powered back up, there was a knock on my door.

After tucking in and checking myself over to make sure I was completely put together again, I unlocked the office door and swung it open.

Deb handed me a coffee and a business card.

“James Allen left his card for you. Said he had to get to another appointment but he’d see you at dinner this evening.”

I took the coffee from her but not the card. “Keep it. I don’t need it.”

After a split second of wondering about the attorney who’d spent the afternoon charming the pants off Conor, I changed my mind.

“On second thought,” I said, reaching out, “I’ll take it. Thanks. Any luck on the reservations?”

Her face lit up with a satisfied grin. “Of course. I’m now new best friends with Arccadio at the host stand. You’ll have to thank him from me when he seats you. Also you owe him $500 cash. By the way, he recommends the pumpkin risotto special tonight. If I thought you cared about me at all, I’d beg you to bring me takeout after the dinner meeting.”

I thought about what I’d much prefer doing after the dinner, and it had nothing to do with risotto or Deb.

“Lucky for me, I don’t care about you at all,” I said in a dry voice. “You’re on your own for dinner.”

She rolled her eyes again and turned to go. “Lean Cuisine for one again. Maybe I’ll heat up two and let Pebbles have some this time,” she muttered as she walked away.

She and I both knew her tiny purse dog lived higher on the hog than frozen meals, and for that matter, so did she. What she didn’t know was that I was fully aware of her long-term relationship with the head chef at Corton. If there was a more well-fed woman at Grange, I was unaware of her.

I turned back to my phone in hopes of seeing a very naked Conor Newell on my screen, but before I got there, Dr. Yvonne Krauss, the lead research and design scientist on the 3-D printer deal, popped her head in my office.

“Have a sec?”

I turned to face her with a forced smile. “Only. What do you need?”

“I’ve written up my thoughts on the viability of going to market with Dr. Newell’s technology today and emailed them to you. From the scientific side, my team is confident in moving ahead as planned.”

I was pleased to hear it, although not surprised. Dr. Newell had been perfecting her technology through years of work and testing with all of the appropriate peer-review papers to back up her success.

“Thank you. Any concerns you’d like me to raise along the way?”

She took a minute to think. “We’re still confirming production cost details with the consultants, but it looks like everything is as we expected. No surprises.”

She continued on for a few minutes, expressing her excitement for the future of Grange with this completed technology in our hands, until I finally had to cut her off.

“Sorry, Yvonne, I don’t mean to clip this conversation short, but I need to swing by my place before dinner tonight. I hope you’re joining us at Segreto.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll see you there at seven.”

As soon as I closed my office door behind her and scrambled to my phone, I was rewarded with a photo of Conor that was now almost twenty-five minutes old.

I debated whether or not to apologize for leaving him hanging all this time. But of course I knew the answer.

Wells: My phone died and then I was regrettably detained at work.





There was no response.

I wanted to kick the leg of my desk, but I had neither the time nor the patience to replace scuffed shoes.

Dammit. I pulled my coat off the back of my chair and buzzed Deb.

“Have the car sent around. I’m heading home.”

The text didn’t come until I was tossing the keys into the bowl in the foyer of my apartment. The wall of windows overlooking Central Park drew me to them the way they always did, the dark treetops of the park far below setting off the sparkling lights of the city all around them. I could look down into the wide expanse of green and imagine it was the dense forest of the Catskills where I’d spent summers growing up hiking and fishing.

I pulled out my phone and read the message.

NotSam: Are you mad at me?





My chest felt like it was going to implode. My fingers itched to type the words, No, baby. Of course not. But of course I didn’t. Instead, I blinked at the screen, unaccustomed to such thoughts. I cleared my throat and pulled myself together.

Wells: Should I be?





NotSam: I just thought… nvm.





I moved to the plush leather sofa in front of the fireplace in the living room and sank into it.

Wells: Not mad. Disappointed I missed getting you off. I shouldn’t have left you like that. However, I assume you didn’t come without my permission.





NotSam: Of course not.





NotSam: I mean… No, sir.





I closed my eyes and palmed my cock through my suit pants. There wasn’t time for me to do what I wanted to do with him before I had to shower and dress for dinner.