does this man know my name? I nodded my thanks and placed the small, exquisitely wrapped package into my purse.
He left, taking a handful of our plates with him. De Luca stood, shoveling a few more pieces of meat into his mouth, and then reached for my hand.
“Let’s go.”
I stood quickly and grabbed my purse. “Shouldn’t we wait for the check?”
“I have a house account. They know what to tip.” He wiped his face with the cloth napkin and tilted his head, indicating that we should leave. I allowed him to lead me out, but pulled my hand free as we approached the front doors. A doorman held the door for us, and we exited into the hot summer air.
The town car sat in front, Jeff standing by it. As he opened my door, he handed me a small plastic bag. Giving me a casual smile, he gently shut the door once I was fully inside. I peeked into the bag and pulled out a small bottle of Advil and a bottle of water. Sweet salvation. My headache jumped up and down, cheering. I twisted open the Advil bottle, popped three in my mouth and sucked down half the bottle of water.
De Luca spent the ride back to the office on the phone. I leaned back in the seat, the heavy food and wine making me sleepy. We were back in the garage before I knew it, and I glanced around before reaching for the door handle.
“Relax.” De Luca spoke from the other seat, having disconnected his call. He reached over and grabbed my knee, trying to reassure me—I think, but the connection of our bodies was a shock to my system, and I stifled a gasp.
I swatted his hand away. “If Broward finds out I—”
“Do you always do as you’re told?”
I gave him a death glare, but his demeanor didn’t waver one bit. “Yes, I typically do.”
“You should learn to bend the rules.”
“You should learn to follow them!” I retorted, smiling a bit. “Good afternoon, Mr. De Luca. Thank you for the ridiculously expensive lunch.”
“I enjoyed it.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, and opened the car door. Jeff was standing there, and I gave him a small smile and rushed to the elevators. I pressed the button and waited, glancing back at the black car. It stayed there, idling, Jeff once again in the driver’s seat. The bell dinged and the door opened. Thankfully, the elevator was empty. I entered, pressed the button for the fourth floor and leaned against the wall. I felt as though I had dodged a bullet, had skipped across glowing coals and then had tied myself securely to the tracks of an oncoming train. The bell dinged, sounding eerily like a far-off train whistle.
Eleven
Rule 2: She is mine and not yours. Remember that.
Day three of no Broward loomed ahead of me and I woke up early in nervous anticipation. Knowing full well that I was headed straight to hell, I dressed for success in a navy wrap dress that hugged my ass perfectly, and leather-and-gold Prada stilettos that had been a gift from Becca. I added a chunky gold necklace and put my hair up in a messy bun. Taking extra care with my makeup, I made sure that I looked amazing before trotting out of the house.
At 7:40 a.m. I slid into my chair, turning on my computer and checking my voice mail. One from Broward.
“Julia—this is Kent. Just checking in to see how things are going. You must have already left for the evening. I sent you a few emails—give me a call if you have any questions. I will be in court all morning tomorrow, so try me in the afternoon if you need me.”
I deleted the voice mail and stared at my computer’s opening scripts, willing them to hurry. I wanted to take care of Broward’s emails first, and then try and finish some of the legal research that I had been putting off. My phone rang.
Ancient Dorothy’s voice creaked through the phone. “Julia, you have a delivery. Is it okay if I send it up?”
I checked my watch: 7:45 a.m. Early delivery. “Yes, Dorothy. Thank you.” I assumed it was FedEx bringing an 8:00 a.m. express package. My computer finally loaded the log-in screen and I quickly entered my credentials. Scrolling through to my first email from Broward, I heard a light knock at my door.
“Julia?”
A moderately attractive man stood in my doorway in a gray suit and blue tie. He held a large arrangement of lilies and orchids. I squinted at the man, who looked familiar, and then it hit me. Billy, Ben, no—Bob. From the other night. Oh, Jesus. This is bad.
“Bob!” I tried to interject some hint of pleasure into my voice, but I think I missed the happy tone and ended up with more of a strangled croak.
“I hope it’s all right that I stopped by. I remember you saying that you interned here. I couldn’t get through on the number you gave me, and I sent you a friend request on Facebook—and I stopped by yesterday but you were out....” His rushed speech faltered and I think he realized how desperate he sounded. “I just wanted to stop by and give you these.” He took two steps forward and thrust the flowers into my desk space. The glass vase hung from his outstretched hands as if it would slip at any moment. I had no choice but to take them.
“Bob, these are beautiful. Thank you.” I buried my face in the arrangement and sniffed, trying to think of what else to say. They were beautiful, and judging by the size of the arrangement, expensive.
“Would you want to go out sometime? I know a great Italian place, just around the corner, not a far trek from here.”
“I can’t, Bob. I just got out of a bad relationship, and I’m just not ready yet.” My oldest and most faithful letdown. His face fell but he maintained his smile.
“Hey, I understand. Can I leave you my number, though? So when you’re ready...just in case you lost it before.”
I didn’t lose it, Bob. I tossed it in the trash. Similar to the way I denied your friend request.
“Of course. I’ll save it. If things change I’ll give you a call.”
His pathetic response, an face-splitting grin, made me wince inside. He came around my desk with his arms out, and I stood. Oh, great. Bob went for a kiss, but I turned my head and gave him a hug instead. We were pulling out of the hug when De Luca appeared in my doorway.
He leaned against the doorway with his arms folded, filling the entire space with his enormity. He had a dark look in his eyes, and radiated power and masculinity. His gaze went from us to the large arrangement on my desk, then back to Bob and me. “Am I interrupting something?”
Bob paled. I’d hate to see what would happen if we were dating and I was attacked on the street. He’d probably duck into the nearest Starbucks and order a scone to calm his nerves.
“No. Bob was just leaving. Bob, this is Brad De Luca. He is one of my bosses.”
Brad’s eyes locked with Bob’s, and he moved forward and shook his hand firmly. I think I saw Bob wince. My office seemed incredibly small at that moment with Bob, Brad, the ridiculous flowers and me. Bob squeaked out a hello.
“I need to speak to Julia if you both are done here.”
Bob
