Page 138 of A Song for You

“Why are you making that face?” Sophie says, panicked.

“It’s just…that’s beautiful, Soph. You’re happy.” I stand and round my desk so I can hug her.

She looks at me oddly when I loop my arms around her and then laughs as she squeezes me tight. “You’re a nutjob, you know that?”

I laugh against her shoulder. “And you’re the whore who likes to get spanked by your daddy.”

The sound of a throat clearing comes from the door, and there stands a red-faced Jay. “I heard nothing,” he mumbles.

Sophie bites her lip and grins at me. “Aw, don’t be jealous, Jay. One day you’ll find someone who calls you a whore and lets you call him Daddy too!” She laughs as she saunters past him.

Since his reappearance in my life, I’ve done all I can to avoid showing anything but apathy in his presence, but I can’t hold in my giggles as he stares at her with his jaw dropped in horror.

“Can I help you with something, Mr. Hanson?” I say sweetly, fluttering my lashes in his direction.

Jay pulls on the tie around his neck, drawing my attention to the way his Adam’s apple rises as he swallows. Even when he’s flustered, he’s hot as fuck. Simply swallowing is sexy when he’s the one doing it.

Life isn’t fair.

Jay clears his throat and finally looks at me, blinking a few times before he speaks. “Meeting. Conference room. Ten minutes,” he manages to sputter before hustling out of my office.

Fifteen

Jay

Elastic Heart by Sia

“By now, you all should have chosen a topic for your articles,” I say, scanning the room of editors. It’s been fun playing boss of a magazine. The day-to-day is far more enjoyable than the time I spend sitting with the board that oversees my family’s company. The people here know little about me, and so far, they treat me with more respect than I ever received at Hanson Liquors. There, it has always been assumed that my position was based on nepotism rather than merit. That I hadn’t actually earned it. Rather, it was handed to me by my father. Or my brother.

After the attack, when I was out of the picture for months, Garreth took over as CEO. When I was well enough to come back, he insisted I lead the company, and to this day, it’s clear the board believes that was a mistake. I’m sure most of them were thrilled when we announced Garreth would be taking over day-to-day operations while I deal with our newest acquisition.

It’s a better fit, if I’m honest. Here, I’m just Jonathan Hanson, owner of Jolie. And I look the part. I’m fucking good-looking, I wear designer suits, and the editors sitting around this table look at me like I belong.

Everyone except Cat, Sophie, and Dexter, that is.

I don’t even want to know what the fuck Sophie was talking about twenty minutes ago. After I left Cat’s office, I went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and shook her haughty laugh and ridicule from my day. For my sanity, I tried to erase the way Cat looked at me. How her eyes darted to my throat, how her cheeks flushed. Because every time I picture her expression, all I want to do is go back to her office, bend her over her desk, and take her like I know she wants me to.

She’s being stubborn. Understandably so, but we both know how this is going to end—with me inside her. The two of us together. If only I could skip this part of the journey. I want the fucking happily ever after. I’ve earned it, dammit.

Rose is the first to respond. She makes a show of licking her lips, trying to draw my attention. She’s a gorgeous woman. Tall, dark hair, small curves. She’s dainty. And obviously interested. Not that it matters. “I’m going to do a piece on women in small-town politics—from PTO to the governor’s office,” she says, pulling her shoulders back and resting her clasped hands in front of her primly.

I study the faces around the room, gauging the climate and searching for reactions that convey agreement or dissension. Most look bored, but it’s Cat’s reaction that I zero in on. She’s smiling at Sophie.

“Have something to say, Ms. Bouvier?”

“It’s James,” she replies, eyes narrowed.

I shrug. “My mistake. Please, Ms. James, do share your thoughts.”

Every set of eyes in the room ping-pongs between Cat and me. Mine, however, don’t stray from my favorite subject. The source of the only joy I’ve ever had in my life. When she’s fighting with me—when those eyes that are the color of my favorite drink flare—my blood ignites into flames. My body buzzes and I feel alive. Like I can take on the world—like I could possibly win her back.

“It feels like the story we’ve been telling since Hillary Clinton stood beside Bill all those years ago. Women can do everything men can do. Bravo.” She slow claps.

“That’s cruel,” I choke out. When the malevolence is directed at me, that’s one thing. I deserve it. But in front of her peers—toward her peers? Cat has never been a cruel person. Is my presence so uncomfortable that it’s causing her to lash out in this way? The thought guts me.

She stares at Rose, completely ignoring me. “What did Cynthia say when you presented that idea two years ago?”

Rose clears her throat. “She said it’d been done before. That the story needed more.”