“Margo?” Beck’s knuckle brushes over my cheek.
When my eyes find his, I can’t hide the sadness in them. “I never want to leave here again,” I admit. It’s weird how a city you didn't grow up in, one you only spent a few years living in, can feel like home.
His eyebrows furrow. “Then don’t,” he offers hoarsely, letting his knuckle brush ever so slightly over my bottom lip before he stuffs his hand into his pocket.
Breaking eye contact, I look around at his giant private office. I’m interested to see him here at work, doing his thing. Does he spend a lot of time in here or is he more hands-on? Are most of his minutes spent in meetings in the lavish conference room we walked by on our way in? I have so many questions. So many things I want to find out.
I take a deep breath in, inhaling the scent of him. “It’s not that easy. What if things don’t work out? What if I can’t find a job here after, you know, our…deal? God, it’d be a shame to move back to California after being back.”
“Why?”
“Because being back is just a reminder of how much I belong here.”
“You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. Even after all this is said and done, you deserve to be wherever makes you happy.”
I study him for a few moments. It’s still surreal that all of this is happening. Not only am I now working for the Beckham Sinclair, but soon I’ll be his fiancée. Everyone but the two of us will think that he’s fallen for me, and I him. It wouldn’t be so bad to pretend forever with him, but there’d always be the hope that it could be more.
It’s why I can’t kiss him ever again. At least not like we did last time. A show for others is acceptable, but when it’s just us two, I can’t handle kissing him and knowing it’s all fake. One big lie.
“That’s the thing,” I begin, holding his eyes. “I want to do anything possible to stay. I want that interview with Camden. I want to show him my art and prove myself. I want it more than anything else. That’s why I don’t want to jeopardize this deal we have by kissing you again.”
He nods slowly, not giving me any inkling of his feelings on the matter. “What does kissing me have to do with Camden, exactly?” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there was a hint of jealousy in his tone.
“It’s just that when you kissed me today, lines got blurred in my head. It didn’t feel fake. It didn’t feel like it was for show to clean up your image and for me to get the job I’ve always wanted. It felt real even when I knew it wasn’t, and I don’t need that right now.”
Beck clears his throat like he’s about to speak, but I beat him to the punch. “Look, it’s embarrassing to admit this, but your brother really screwed me up. I just don’t know if I can handle knowing when it is and isn’t for show.”
His hand clenches at his side, the veins on the top of it becoming more defined. “You and I were both there earlier this morning, Margo. That wasn’t for show, and I’m offended if that’s what you’ve made it out to be.”
Beck towers over me as he brings himself toe to toe with me. His indigo irises darken with anger, a storm forming in them. I don’t know how to respond to him, or what his answer even means. Is this him admitting that it’s real? He’s already fucked with my head so much, and my first official work day isn’t even until tomorrow.
The look in his eyes makes me wonder if we’ve both messed with each other’s heads. Maybe the fake gig won’t work as well as we once thought.
“Tell me not to kiss you again and I won’t. But don’t make that moment less than what it was. I’ve thought about it all god damn day. It wasn’t a fucking show, and you know damn well it wasn’t.”
He leaves me all alone in his office, but he doesn’t go far. Flicking on the lights of a conference room, he sits down and spends the next hour on a phone call.
Maybe him ignoring me as I take in this office space is him punishing me. Or maybe he knows that I could stare out the window of his office all day if I could, the sight having to be one of the best in the city.
Either way, neither of us speak for the duration of our time out and about. In fact, we don’t even speak when we make it back to the penthouse.
I probably could’ve handled our conversation at the office better. The issue was, I’d been offended she’d dismissed the kiss so easily. That she thought so low of me. How could she think I’d kiss her in private for the sake of anyone else? Sure, if people thought we were engaged and we were at an event or something I’d give her a chaste kiss to make this arrangement more believable.
But this morning, in that dressing room, the only person I kissed her for was myself. I’d thought about kissing her in bed into the early morning the night before and I’d thought about it the entire morning while shopping before it happened.
I’d kissed her because the thought of not kissing her made me feel empty inside.
I should’ve known better. She wasn’t ready. She’d said as much when she’d laid out her terms when agreeing to becoming my assistant and then fiancée. I’d just been too blinded by my primal want for her, and by the way she basically dared me to kiss her, there was no stopping myself.
By the time I actually cared to apologize to her for how I’d acted, it was too late. I could tell she was upset with me. I’m smart enough to know when a woman wants nothing to do with me, and those were the vibes I got the entire ride home.
She’d smiled and fawned over Ezra as he helped her bring bags and boxes of clothing up, but any time I attempted to help it resulted in a dirty look.
Ezra ate it up like candy, clearly aware that something was going on between Margo and me.
It was four hours ago when we piled Margo’s new items in her room, and she all but slammed the door in my face.
I’d spent two of those hours in the private gym and sauna, trying to work out some of the pent up frustration. I’m still in disbelief that she tried to diminish our kiss into nothing. I’m even more enraged that her trust issues stem from the man whose picture appears on my phone.
Angrily grabbing my phone from the kitchen counter, I swipe to answer. “What do you want?” My tone isn’t friendly, although it never is when it comes to him.
He laughs, but there’s no actual humor to it. “Sup, big bro?” Blaring music muffles his voice. Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, it isn’t quiet.
“Why are you calling me?” I clip, grimacing at his use of the words sup and bro.
“I got a fun tidbit of information today,” he taunts. I know he wants me to ask what, but I don’t. I’m not going to fall into whatever trap he’s attempting to lay.
“And I give a shit why?”
The oven timer beeps behind me. I walk to it, opening it up and taking a peek at the teriyaki salmon I have in there.
Carter chuckles on the other line. “Because, Beckham, it has to do with you and a certain ex-girlfriend of mine.”
Fuck.
I knew he’d learn of Margo working for me, and eventually becoming my fiancée, but I must admit, I didn’t think it’d be so soon.