Reckless Hearts: A Billionaire Romance (4 page)

I lived right on the top floor, and I took the switchback staircase two steps at a time so that the heat of my exertion burned in my lungs and sweat stuck my shirt to my back.

I couldn't outrun those thoughts, though. I couldn't lock them out when I shakily shoved my key into my lock, pushed the door open, and then locked it behind me.

"Just stop thinking about him," I said, "Just stop."

I tried reminding myself how hard I'd worked these last couple years to get to this point. I'd done so much grant writing, studied so hard for my SATs, spent so long perfecting my entrance essay that I'd had very little time for anything other than school.

I hadn't had a serious boyfriend since the 10th grade. I hadn't been on a date since prom. I'd sacrificed just about every social opportunity to pad my CV and get into the best school possible to start my career.

I plugged my phone into the speaker dock that my dad had gotten me as a school move-in present and hit play. It had been on a studying playlist I'd filled with classical music. The harmony was supposed to help you to concentrate, focus your mind, all that.

I sat on the bed beside it, the mattress pillowing my weight. I closed my eyes, trying to let the sounds fill me up, push out the other thoughts.

It didn't work. So I turned it up. Then I cranked it louder. Then when I tried again the little volume knob wouldn't turn anymore. It was loud enough that my body trembled with the deeper bass notes.

Someone banged on my door. "Hey! Turn it down in there unless you want to get written up!"

You're on Peabody's radar now
, I could hear Jennifer telling me. Now was the time to lay low, not go around collecting disciplinary notes.

"Sorry!" I said, turning the music down so that I could barely hear it.

Sorry was my by-word now. Why did I have to put my hand up? Why did I have to get him to notice me, even though what I wanted most was to go unnoticed?

It was only then that I noticed the flashing light on my answering machine. All the apartments came fully equipped, of course. Flatscreen TVs, full kitchens (even though most just left campus for some fine dining) and of course landline telephones. Nice ones, too. Top-end AT&T models with touchscreen displays and everything.

I never used it. My cell had a good enough plan. I don't even think I ever gave anyone the number.

I swallowed, trying to open my throat up again. My mind immediately went to some dean or other here wanting to talk to my about my outburst. Maybe even Peabody himself wanting to give me a few choice words.

Words I probably deserved. Maybe that was why Mr. X had called Peabody, to let him know he wanted me punished.

My kingdom for a time machine!

They were the only ones I could see having that number. It made sense.

So I went over and pressed the button, steeling myself, waiting to hear some disappointed voice telling me they needed to set a meeting with me to discuss my future here at SNYUC.

But it wasn't Peabody, or the Dean, or anyone from the school for that matter.

It was
him
.

"Miss Chambers? I'm sorry that I couldn't catch you to speak in person. I've been thinking about what you asked me. All the questions, actually. You seemed so vehement about your points.

"So I'm inviting you to take a tour of Utopia's office here in Manhattan. Given by yours truly. I'd like to show you just what my company does to make the world a better place. Maybe you'll even learn how I manage to sleep at night." At that, I thought I heard the faintest chuckle.

The message ended with him giving me his secretary's number to set up the exact day and time.

Had I detected something there in that learning about the way he sleeps? My rational mind tried to convince me that it was a joke. His way of retorting to the question I'd posed him.

Yeah, that was all. He couldn't possibly mean anything. Of course he couldn't. Not about me, anyway.

I mean, I did my best to keep looking all right. Pizza and fast food only occasionally, at least some exercise every week. But he could have thrown a rock into that crowd at the amphitheater and hit a girl prettier than I am. One more willing and interested, too.

I listened to the message again, jotting down the number he gave at the end on a scrap of paper.

I picked up the receiver, then realized what I was about to do.

It was crazy, though, wasn't it? I could delete the message, throw away the number, and never think about it or him again. Besides, I needed to get that new essay written.

I also needed to get back to Jenn before she realized how awful a person and friend I was.

Have you ever not finished an assignment early?
Jennifer's voice echoed. It was due in three weeks. I had plans to finish it in one. Plenty early.

Early enough that I could afford to take a day and go prove to myself that "Mr. X" was just another rich jerk who I shouldn't spend any more mental energy on.

So I dialed the number.

"H
ello. Is this Miss Chambers?" a woman on the other end asked.

"Y-yes..." I said. That buzzing in my chest started again. And it started moving, sinking down into my stomach.
This is ridiculous. Just hang up the phone and write your paper.

I tried, but my fingers didn't listen. They kept that receiver pressed against my ear. They pressed it to my ear so hard I could hear the background noise of the line itself.

"Have you decided on when you would like to come in?" the woman asked. Faint tapping came through the line as she typed something.

I thought about it, knowing that I should have done that before making the call and not during. However, the secretary never said anything, never tried to hurry me along. Instead she typed, the tapping of the keys becoming clearer in the relative silence of the call.

I wish that she had said something, told me to hurry up, made a huffing sound. Anything. Anything that would give me an excuse to hang up and forget about all this.

It reminded me of those moments of silence before I asked my questions earlier that day. When Mr. X had also waited.

"How about tomorrow afternoon?" I hazarded. I didn't have any classes, and I convinced myself that it would also be good to get away from the campus. If only for an afternoon.

"He will expect you tomorrow afternoon at 1:30. Have a nice day, Miss Chambers." She gave me the address and then a click came from the other end of the call, telling me that she hung up.

I lowered the receiver slowly, dropping it down onto the stand. The touchscreen glowed, telling me that the call had lasted two minutes and 33 seconds before dimming.

Sensing that I was going to be useless for the rest of the day, I went over to the window and looked out across the campus. The Art Deco buildings seemed to rise up from amid the treetops.

Far away on the horizon, in the general direction of New York City, I realized, a line of dark clouds brooded.

If I'd been superstitious, I might have been worried. As it was, a sort of aching excitement settled low in my gut, tickling with nervous fingers at the bottom of my heart.

This was a secret, I realized. And I couldn't remember the last time I possessed a good secret.

I decided to text Jennifer and see if maybe we could go grab some food or watch a movie. Anything to stop thinking about all this.

***

I
stood in the elevator, watching the display over the doors count upwards.
34, 35, 36...
. Utopia Incorporated owned this entire building, located just off Wall Street. Mr. X kept his office on the 40th floor. I think I left my stomach back on the first.

It had been an agonizing morning. Mostly over clothes. And then mostly whether to dress up or come in roughly the same outfit as the day before.

I'd taken both the skirts I owned out of the closet, as well as a couple blouses. Even a dark dress for more formal events.

I picked out a pair of coal-colored slacks. The ones I wore to church or to a nice restaurant. Then a nice buttondown blouse that had some frills along the seems.I couldn’t quite bring myself to wear a dress or skirt. They just weren’t me. And I wanted to look nice, but I also wanted to look like me.

Although I have to admit that I did stand in front of my bathroom mirror for a few minutes, twisting and turning and holding my back straight or sticking my chest out, looking for the posture that up-sold whatever goods I had.

Then I'd deflated and shook my head at the stupidity of it. I wasn't trying to get X to check me out.  Was I?

But he looked so good in that suit
, I thought as the elevator counted 38 off.

I also copped to my nerves. And my excitement.
I'll actually get to see what color his eyes are!
God, it was just like junior high again and squealing delightedly with the other girls about some hot guy who sat next to you in algebra.

The elevator slowed to a halt and my stomach caught up with the rest of me. Actually it came on a little fast and I swallowed back down against the pressure.

A relatively plain reception area greeted me. Though I think maybe understated described it better. Grey walls bordering on beige. Greige? Three pairs of well-appointed chairs near the walls, each with a small, circular table.

In fact, the only thing on the wall was the Utopia Incorporated logo above the secretary's tall desk. The logo was the 8 on its side infinity symbol with a capitol U over it.

"Miss Chambers? Just on time. If you go through the door to your left that will take you to his office," the secretary said. She was a pretty blonde with her hair pulled back into a high bun that showed her feline cheekbones.

If she thought anything about my choice of clothes she said nothing. This got to me more than it should have. I wondered if maybe I should have gone with a skirt and blouse combo. That maybe I should have put all that aside and dressed more feminine instead of just nicer.

I noted how she just said 'he' or 'his.' Plain pronouns. No name. Not even 'Mr. X.' Who was this guy?

I took the door to the left, pushing it open and finding myself in a short hallway, the walls the same greige as the reception room. At the end stood a door with no window.

Before I could psych myself out I went and pushed the door open.

"Hello, Allison."

"Hi," I said, still standing in the threshold. I couldn't quite bring myself to step inside. Like I was a vampire, needing an invitation to set foot in a private space.

He noticed my hesitation and stepped up from his desk, walking over to me. "Come in, please. You don't mind if I call you Allison, do you?" he offered his hand.

He was tall. I figured that he might be. But standing in the back row of the amphitheater and looking down at him had screwed with my perspective.

And his eyes were brown. A deep color like a nice wood stain. They contrasted heavily with the crystalline white around each iris.

For some reason I'd been expecting to look up into cold blue orbs, as melodramatic as that sounds. But his eyes could even be called warm.

I chalked this next bit up to my nerves, trying to sound sarcastic and friendly but fearing that I actually came off bitchy instead.

"Only if you don't mind if I call you George," I said, telling my hormones to leave me alone.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "George isn't my name."

"Neither is, 'Mr. X.'"

He regarded me in that curious way again. That appraising look on his face. The strange thought rose into my mind that this man could see right through me, right into me.

I found this incredibly frustrating because he was as opaque to me now, even this close, as frosted glass. You could see the shape of something within, but only that blurred outline.

I got the impression that he was supremely calm and collected. Of course, why wouldn't he be? He probably dealt with high-stakes business decisions every day, faced down an impersonal board of directors. That sort of thing.

I was just a college girl wearing some plain, nice slacks and an equally plain blouse like a hostess at a steak house. Nothing that could intimidate anyone.

"No," he said, "I suppose it isn't. Now, I'd like to take you on that little tour I promised."

"Sounds good, George. Lead the way." Inside I cringed.
There goes that mouth of mine again
. I figured at any time he would laugh at me and tell me to get out.

Stop being so nervous!

He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine, never stopping seeing right through me. And then I thought I noticed something else in them.

Something not quite excitement or nervousness. Was he even capable of those? No, this was something hot. Something that burned in him. Something that ignited when he looked at me.

A chill ran down my back in response, and I dropped my eyes from his.

It occurred to me that maybe I should thank him for taking time out of his schedule to do this. That his time was probably worth a lot of money.

I couldn’t make myself though. I thought it would sound so insincere after that whole stupid George thing.

"Come with me," he said.

Except he didn't just open the door for me and lead me through. As I turned to follow him, he put his hand on the small of my back to guide me back into that hallway.

The sudden, unexpected touch electrified me. All those hormones I did my best to suppress burst through the dams I built so carefully around them.

My breath caught in my throat, and all the muscles in my back tensed. I didn't want him to know, but there was no way he didn't notice. Not with the way the heat from his palm pulsed into me.

"We'll go down to the main offices first. I've had some of my people do up some fact sheets about just where Utopia’s money goes and why."

He didn't say a thing about the crackling tension radiating from me. Instead, he led me back to the elevator, not taking his hand from me until we both stood in the car facing the door.

It left a cold spot on my back. Some of that high-tension electricity faded away, though. But not all of it.