Her sweet giggle alone will calm some of my nerves in seconds.
“Matteo is walking down the hall for your meeting; I’ll send her in in a little.” She says. Then, two seconds later, he’s walking through my office with a wide smile stretching his face, and I’m not sure if I want to slap it off or be thankful for the mood shift in the room.
“Way to knock,” I mutter and pull up the board documents we go over for the next twenty minutes. “Do you have anything else to add?” I ask, valuing his opinion.
Matteo was a friend of Nate’s when we were younger. Then, one day, his family abruptly moved back to Italy, and we never heard from him again. Nate tracked him down once he got older, and the rest is history. Now he’s my Global Head of Real Estate, and he’s a fucking brilliant investor.
He’s texting with a passion on his phone. “Matteo,” I snap, not in the mood today.
“Sorry.” He puts his phone away.
“Who were you talking to?”
“No one,” he answers too quickly.
I stare at him, wondering what’s wrong with him, and it hits me: he’s talking to Juliette’s friend.
“Was that that girl?” Fuck, I can never remember her name.
He rolls his eyes, “Becks, your employee who you can’t remember? Yes, that was her.”
“Don’t remind me that she works for me and, technically, you.” I think for a second. “And don’t make me regret not having a no fraternization rule in the handbook.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses me to text again.
“So…” I lean back in my chair and don’t finish my sentence.
There’s no point.
“So?” He lifts a brow. “So, have I seen her? Is that what you’re going to ask me?Again?” I don’t answer, and he breathes, annoyed, “No, I haven’t seen Juliette. Well, besides on FaceTime yesterday when she was with Becks.”
I sit up taller, and he laughs. “You’re a fucking idiot. It’s been a month. A MONTH, and you’re still obsessed. I don’t understand why you can’t see her again.”
Of course, he doesn’t. How could he understand something I don’t even comprehend?
All I know is that I’m so fucked over her that even a month later, I’m still thinking about our time together…every night.
I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I forced myself to go out with Rachel, someone I’ve had a casual relationship with for years. We’re both similar—single parents that aren’t looking for anything other than a good time.
We got back to her place, and I freaked the fuck out when she went in for a kiss. I didn’t want her lips anywhere near me. I went home, and within minutes of thinking of Juliette I was hard as a fucking rock.
In the thirty-eight years of my life, I’ve never thought about a woman like I have about Juliette, and I barely know her.
And that scares the shit out of me.
I feel Matteo’s eyes on me, and I hate myself right now, but I have to ask, “How did she look?”
“She’s beautiful, Harrison. You already know how she’d look. Although she’s not my type, she’s still hot.”
Not his type?
He doesn’t like perfection?
What’s there not to like?
Her long, endless legs or big, wide, curious brown eyes encased in the longest, thickest eyelashes I’ve ever seen?
The light dusting of freckles on the back of her shoulders or her red, lush, pouty lips?
