Saving the CEO (49th Floor #1)(42)
Everyone was different, yet they all seemed to come together into a cohesive, collegial whole. Even spouses and kids—in addition to Britney, there were a couple of middle schoolers and a baby asleep in his mother’s arms—seemed to integrate into the group like they’d always been there. It felt almost like she was at the Christmas party of a family business.
Even Carl was nothing less than totally friendly and charming. He and his wife Diana pulled Cassie into conversation after issuing an instruction to Britney to begin gathering her things so they could leave.
“It will take her an hour, so I’m having another drink,” said Diana, pouring herself a glass of wine as they stood at the kitchen island. “How long have you known Jack?” she asked, reaching over to refill Cassie’s glass, too.
“Um,” Cassie hedged, not sure what role she was supposed to be playing. Jack seemed content to let everyone believe they were dating. She supposed it would be easy enough for him to invent a breakup later. “Not too long, actually.”
“Well, when Jack knows what he wants, he knows,” said Diana.
“What do you do, Cassie?” asked Carl, and she couldn’t help but silently thank him for putting an end to his wife’s line of questioning.
“I’m a student,” she said. “And a bartender, too. Though I should probably switch the order of that answer because I only go to school part time.”
“What are you studying, and where?” asked Carl.
“Math at the University of Toronto,” Cassie answered, seeing no reason to lie.
Carl nodded, and asked her a series of questions about school. He seemed intensely and genuinely interested in the details of campus life, dormitories, meal plans.
“Well, I’ve never lived on campus, so I’m not sure,” she said in response to a question about whether dorms at the local university were competitively priced compared to other schools.
“Carl, leave her alone,” said Diana. “He’s freaking about Britney’s college,” she said to Cassie. Then she turned back to Carl. “And you wonder why we’ve never met a girlfriend of Jack’s. I always thought it’s because he’s married to the company, but maybe he just hides them because he knows you turn into the Inquisition?”
Cassie wondered if she should protest that she wasn’t actually Jack’s girlfriend. It was one thing to let people believe it. But not correcting the record when someone said it to her face—was that any different than lying?
Her internal moral debate was interrupted when Jack swooped in holding a large framed photograph. “Look at this. Britney just gave it to me.” It was a black and white image of one of Toronto’s iconic streetcars. Britney had managed to make the everyday infrastructure of the city look both familiar and strange, as the photo was taken from a low angle and through rain. It was both gritty and beautiful. Cassie recognized the shot as being by the same photographer whose work lined Jack’s entryway.
Britney bopped up behind Jack, beaming at the overheard praise. “I want to be a photographer,” she explained to Cassie.
“Looks like you already are one,” Cassie said. “This is beautiful.”
“I can make you a print, too, if you like.”
Cassie looked at Jack. His face was unreadable. “How did you get the shot from so low?” she asked Britney, turning to evasive techniques rather than responding to the offer. She didn’t want Jack to think she was overstepping, trying to worm her way into his real life.
…
Everybody loved Cassie. Of course everybody loved Cassie. Cassie was a nice person. Smart, charming, beautiful—the whole package.
Cassie was also distracting as hell. He’d practically ordered her to wear the red dress, so he could hardly complain, but goddamn. Unlike last time, she’d made no attempt to tone down the dress. Gone were the blazer and the thick black tights. Her arms were gloriously bare and she wore black stockings with seams down the back that made his dick twitch every time he caught a glimpse of them. A shiny curtain of hair hung down her back, and she’d forgone her usual light hand with makeup in favor of dark, smoky, heavily lined eyes and crimson lips the same shade as her dress.
As she floated through the party, he was perpetually aware of her, a scarlet presence that practically oozed sex. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. Dax, who usually spent all his time with the Winter Enterprises crew arguing with Amy—the two fought like cats and dogs for some reason he couldn’t figure out—chatted with Cassie more than Jack would have liked. The analysts were all over her, too. And then when it turned out she had an opinion on the upcoming episode of Doctor Who? Forget it, she might as well have been a snake charmer. He’d caught the eye of one of the guys and shot him a look that made him physically take a step back from Cassie. Of course, Jack had no right to be possessive about her, but no one else knew that. Hell, they thought she was his girlfriend, and macking on the boss’s girlfriend was not cool.
Though he always knew where she was and what she was doing, he’d hardly spoken to her all evening. She seemed to be doing fine on her own, and honestly, he didn’t trust himself in close proximity. This was the company party, and the boss couldn’t disappear upstairs with the party’s most noticeable guest for an hour without raising eyebrows. Still, he looked at his watch every few minutes, growing increasingly agitated with the never-ending party. By the time Carl and Britney and Diana started making moves toward departing, his skin was prickling. When Amy announced her intention to leave, too, he practically threw her coat at her.