She didn’t need remembered lectures whispering through her mind.
She absolutely did not need to find her head filling with visions of smiling blue eyes, or kissable lips lifted in a playful smile. She pumped her legs harder as the memory of his fleeting touch, those same lips grazing her ear, followed the visual. Her sleep-deprived brain was a traitor.
Reiko dug her blunt nails into the worn padding on the grip as she peddled for all she was worth. She’d lost her fight with steady breathing and was panting as if she’d just run an uphill marathon with no prep time by the time she finally accepted she had hit her limit. Her whole body was tired, and she would gladly have collapsed back into bed right then and there.
Except she was covered in sweat.
By the time she finished her shower, her appetite had woken up and she decided food sounded better than lazing about inbed. She certainly had plenty of time to make herself a healthier breakfast in the hopes of capitalizing on the hard workout, so she opted to take advantage.
She’d almost forgotten about the beautiful flowers and the visitor from the night before who’d delivered them, and finding herself standing in front of the table again had her heart doing another stupid dance. She had no business feeling anything of the sort where Santino Guerra was concerned, no matter what he’d said, and she knew it. The man was just a natural-born flirt.
But he’d done a nice job with the flowers. And she supposed she appreciated at least his effort with the apology, as twisted as it was.
Maybe wealthy people had a harder time with boundaries? As she understood it, he’d been born to money and the privilege that generally came with it. His family had already established a name for themselves in the St. Louis area, and their influence had only expanded as he’d grown up. It was hardly his fault his elders were ambitious.
Reiko gave herself a shake, stepped as wide around her dining table as she could, and continued into the kitchen.I’ll appreciate the flowers. That much is okay.But that was where she would draw the line.
She made herself a nice, small breakfast, paired with a cup of coffee to give her a boost, and didn’t touch her laptop until the meal was eaten and dishes washed. Once she was seated on her sofa, she hauled the device to her lap and told herself it was time to get to proverbial work perusing for new job postings. Her phone hadn’t indicated any emails, so she didn’t seem to have any responses on her pending applications, but she’d check those, too. It was still early in the day; businesses would still be getting going. If she was lucky, she’d catch a brand-new posting and snag herself a job by day’s end.
That had been the hope. Somehow, after checking one site, she wound up on YouTube and the next thing she knew her phone was vibrating at her side with an incoming text.
Reiko snapped the lid of the laptop shut, both startled and irritated at the intrusion. And herself. Though if she were honest, she recognized that even going to YouTube had been a self-destructive psychological defense mechanism. Recognizing the tactic did not make her less agitated about it.
She snatched up her phone and frowned when she realized the text that had jarred her back to reality was from an unknown number. But given that she had a few pending applications floating in the wild, she opened it anyway.
Good morning, beautiful Reiko. Don’t be afraid to call if you miss me.
There was a second text immediately beneath that, so close together they shared the same timestamp.
Save this number. Don’t be shy.
Reiko stared at her phone until the screen went dark again. It had occurred to her that Guerra might have looked up her phone number via her employee records, but she hadn’t really expected him to text her. In truth, she hadn’t honestly expected to hear from him again at all. He’d issued his apology, she’d accepted. She’d even promised not to sue. Sure, he’d failed to get her to dinner or whatever he’d really been after, but a man like him couldn’t possibly have a genuine interest in her. That had to have been a fleeting, offer-of-opportunity type thing. She’d snubbed it. It was her loss.
Yet here he was, the very next morning, texting her.
Not just texting me. He texted me “good morning.”Did that mean something?
There was no way.
She drew a deep breath and attempted to think it through, to think it over from a more rational angle.
Santino Guerra was the second-generation head of a family-owned, multi-million-dollar company. Rumor had it that in the near decade since he’d taken an active role, the company’s value had skyrocketed. Reiko had never bothered researching most of that, but in her tenure she herself had witnessed a respectable growth.
That was the reflection she needed to finally understand, to finally glean insight into Guerra’s most probable goal.
She would have been lying to herself to deny the flicker of disappointment that followed, and her gaze strayed to the pretty chrysanthemums on her table. They’d already started to open up. Stupid tears stung her eyes for a single second.I know better.
At least she’d turned down dinner.
“Remember your place if you don’t want this to happen again.”Her father’s cruel, hateful words snarled at her in the back of her mind. The split lip had healed, but the hurt in her chest remained. It likely always would.
Reiko leaned her head back and closed her eyes until her emotions were settled again. If that memory was plaguing her, then she hadn’t properly worn herself out on the bike. It’d be best to go for a second ride after lunch. In the meantime, though, she needed to nip her strange and stupidly humiliating new dilemma in the bud.
Then she really needed to get back to job hunting.
She opened her new text thread, not bothering to actually save Guerra’s number, and typed out a lengthy but careful reply.
At this point I have to assume you have an interest in my father’s company, so let mesave you some time. You’re wasting your energy on me. I have no connections there. Any attempt to use me to ingratiate yourself, or otherwise get ‘in’, would fail. I don’t say that to insult or challenge you. The simple truth is, my father wouldn’t bat an eye if he learned I’d been brutally murdered. So, if that is your goal, you need a different tactic. Good day, Mr. Guerra.
