Ryan Kendall - Working It

Pulling some tissues from his pocket, Ben cleaned me and arranged my panties so I was covered once again. Just as I was pulling my dress back on, Braydon appeared.

With a large erection tenting his slacks. Whoa.

I couldn’t help but giggle. I guess I was still pretty tipsy, but I found that funny. Our lovemaking had gotten him hot and bothered.

“Are you guys fucking kidding me?” He adjusted his pants and winced. “Don’t do that shit in front of me if I’m not invited to play.”

I hadn’t realized that Braydon had been watching, or least listening from his guard post at the door. Oops.

“That’s never happening again, man. Emmy’s not your plaything. She’s mine.” Ben possessively pulled me to his lap again, nuzzling into my neck.

“You two are fucking mean.” Braydon sighed loudly. “I could go find Fiona, cheer her up. She hasn’t seen my piercing yet.”

My gaze snapped to Braydon’s. “No, Bray. Anyone but her.”

It was bad enough both Ben and Braydon had already been with her. Some tiny part of me liked that she hadn’t experienced his piercing like I had. If we were keeping score, that little thing afforded me extra points. Stupid, I know.

“You got it, jellybean.”

I fell asleep in Ben’s arms that night while he continued to pet and caress me softly, whispering over and over again that he loved me.

Emmy

Ben and I lay around relaxing much of the day until there was a knock at the door in the late afternoon. It was a bottle of champagne delivered from the concierge. The notecard read:

For Ben and Emmy. Enjoy!

Love,

Fiona

“See, I knew she’d come around,” Ben said, uncorking the champagne with a loud pop.

She was being too nice. Something was up. Ben didn’t see it—but I did. I also found it interesting she had addressed the notecard to both of us. Like she knew I stayed in his room and only went to mine to change clothes. But I smiled and accepted a glass of the bubbly.

“I love you, Emerson.”

He couldn’t seem to stop saying it. Which was just fine with me. “I love you, too.” I smiled at him and then sipped my drink. Mmm. Fizzy and sweet. “Ben?”

“Hmm?”

“I want you to come home with me, see where I’m from, meet my parents.”

His gaze softened. “I’d like that.”

We hadn’t yet spoken about what would happen once we left Paris, but I held out hope that we’d make a go at a real relationship back in New York. I knew he traveled a lot for work, but with Fiona’s approval maybe I could travel with him.

My phone chimed from my purse, and I glanced at it. It was Fiona. That was strange. She rarely called me. She usually sent a text.

“Hello?”

“Hi, darling. Did you guys get the delivery?”

Darling? That was new.

“Yes, thank you. Ben’s already poured us each a glass and it’s delicious. That was very thoughtful of you.” My voice sounded light and cheery. Good job, Emmy. I silently patted myself on the back. Way to be civil with your boyfriend’s ex. I felt proud. Very grown up.

“Wonderful. Well, you guys enjoy it, and then later I’d love for you to swing by my room. I’d like to talk about adding more responsibilities to your role. You’ve proven to be quite capable.”

What? Seriously? “Oh, okay. That sounds great. I just need to shower, and . . .”

Fiona cut me off. “Nonsense, we’re all practically family now. Just come by whenever . . .”

“Okay, I will. See you soon.”

I hung up the phone, deep lines of confusion etched across my face.

“Who was that?” Ben asked, taking a sip of his champagne.

“It was Fiona. I think she wants to promote me.”

His smile lit up his face. “See. Told you everything would work out, baby. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” I said, distractedly. I didn’t trust Fiona for a second. I just needed to figure out her angle with this move.

I was too distracted to enjoy the champagne with Ben, and after several minutes he chuckled, urging me to pay her a visit. “Just go.” He laughed. “Call me after.”

“I will. Thanks.” I pressed a quick kiss to his lips and headed out.

When I reached the penthouse suite, I paused before the ornate cream and gold enameled door. I smoothed my hands over the black dress pants I’d changed into and straightened the hem of my burgundy blouse. This would turn out okay—it had to. I knocked at the door and lifted my chin. I wouldn’t let her intimidate me. Couldn’t.

When Fiona opened the door, she looked like shit. I’d never seen her dressed so casually—in black yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt that hung to her knees. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail and she wasn’t wearing any makeup.

“Fiona?” My voice croaked. “Are you okay?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Fine, love. Come in.” She retreated into the large living room and I followed, closing the door behind me. She slumped down onto the sofa and curled her legs up underneath her.

I sat opposite her on the lounge chair. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

She laughed uneasily. “I look like shit, don’t I?”

I bit my cheek. Shut it, Emmy!

“I’m fine, honestly. I’ve just had a slew of doctor appointments lately, and it’s worn me out.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, and I didn’t mean you looked bad. I’ve just never seen you, you know,” I stammered, “not put together.”

“It’s quite all right.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I wanted to talk to you about your position at Status.”

My stomach did a little flip. “Okay.”

“It’s quite obvious you’ve been more than capable with your assigned duties. Ben trusts you—and you know I trust his judgment. So . . . I’d like to expand your role, give you a bit more responsibility. Of course, it would come with a pay raise as well. How does all that sound?”

What were you supposed to say when your boss found out you were dating her ex-fling and offered you more money? There was no guidebook for that, but I was pretty sure I was supposed to feel grateful. “It sounds fabulous. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Wonderful. I was hoping you’d say that. I’m going to need help with New York Fashion Week in the spring, especially because of all these doctor appointments I mentioned.”

I wanted to ask again if she was okay, or if there was anything I could do to help, but something in her posture made me pause. It wasn’t any of my business so I just nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Attending castings, talking to the designers, helping to prepare the boys.”

“I can do that. Anything you need.” Wow, maybe my assistant job was finally going to pay off. I was moving up in the world.

“Brilliant. I’ll email you later tonight with more details. But for now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take a nap.”

“Of course.” I let myself out, leaving Fiona curled up on the couch.

When Fiona finally emailed me that night, I was lying in bed with Ben, using his iPad to video chat with Ellie. But when the email from Fiona came through, I sat straight up and told Ellie I’d talk to her later.

It began with my new pay—a healthy increase from my previous salary. And then went into detail about my duties in preparation for New York Fashion Week.

On the last line of the email I finally uncovered her ploy. I’d be leaving Paris in two days.

Our relationship was so new, so fragile, I feared what the distance might mean. If this was a Lifetime movie, I’d run away with this man and never look back. But sadly, life didn’t work that way.

The entire ride to the airport, Ben kept telling me he was proud of me, and that I should be excited about this opportunity. I couldn’t help but think it was just a ploy for Fiona to get rid of me since she had learned of my relationship with Ben.

I trusted him, but that didn’t mean I was happy about him spending three weeks alone in Paris with the woman he’d had an ongoing affair with. I didn’t trust her. Not at all.

Ben paid to upgrade my seat to first class, even though I told him it wasn’t necessary, and then walked me as far as security would allow.

“Hey, it’s just three weeks.” He cupped my cheeks in his big palms, meeting my eyes with a worried stare.

“Three weeks and two days,” I pointed out.

Ben smiled and pressed his lips to mine. “We’ll talk every night. I’ll send you dirty texts.”

I giggled despite my sour mood. “Did you just tell me you’d sext me? Spoken like a true fucking romantic right there.”

“Anything for you, baby. I love you, Emmy.”

“I love you, too,” I told him, drinking in that brilliant hazel gaze I’d miss so much. “Behave.”

“I will, I promise. You too.” Ben pulled me snuggly into his arms, lifting my feet from the floor so he could cradle me in a full-body hug. I melted into his embrace.

We could do this, right? It was just a few weeks.

Emmy

Ben was increasingly hard to get ahold of in the weeks that followed. Maybe it was the six-hour time difference or our work schedules, but we were rarely afforded the time to talk. The only thing that helped me pass the time was that I’d taken one of Ben’s T-shirts with me from Paris. His masculine scent still clung to the fabric, and each night I’d buried my face in the cotton and inhaled deeply. When the scent finally wore off, I worried that it was somehow a sign of things falling apart between us.

Ben had trouble sleeping through the night again and told me he had started taking his pills. It disappointed me, but I understood. The man needed to sleep. He ate dinner most nights with Fiona, which I tried to be mature about—they were the only two left in Paris since Gunnar had returned to New York a few days after me to prepare for another big campaign. But my old doubts and insecurities about their relationship started to creep in again.