Chapter 56
The meeting broke for lunch around one-thirty.
I closed my notebook and shoved it into my bag, already calculating how fast I could grab lunch from the café next door. My stomach had been growling for the past hour.
Julian turned to me as people started filing out. "Maya, want to grab lunch together? I have a few questions about the supply chain projections."
"Sure," I said, standing up.
Before we could reach the door, James Cooper appeared in the doorway. His expression was carefully neutral. "Mr. Garrison, Mr. Sterling would like to see you. Now, if possible."
Julian's jaw tightened. A muscle twitched near his eye.
"Julian, you should go," I said quickly. "We can talk about work later."
He exhaled through his nose. "Fine."
I watched him follow James out of the conference room, his shoulders rigid with tension.
---
I made my way to the elevator bank and pressed the down button. The doors slid open almost immediately.
I stepped inside and hit the button for the first floor. The doors started to close—
A hand shot out, blocking them.
I knew that hand before I even looked up. The long fingers, the expensive watch glinting at the wrist, the way the sleeve of his suit jacket pulled back just slightly.
Too familiar. Even after five years.
Adam stepped into the elevator.
I took an instinctive step back.
He reached past me and pressed the door close button. His cologne filled the small space—something dark and woodsy that made my pulse spike.
The elevator began its descent. It was well past lunch hour, and I'd been the last one out of the conference room. No one else was going down.
Just the two of us.
The silence pressed down like a physical weight. I could hear my own breathing. His, too—slow and steady, while mine came too fast.
I kept my eyes fixed on the digital floor display. Twenty-six. Twenty-five. Twenty-four.
But my peripheral vision betrayed me. The sharp line of his jaw. The way his chest rose and fell with each breath. The elegant taper from his shoulders to his waist.
"Need me to turn around?"
I jerked my gaze to his face. "What?"
Adam's mouth curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You've been checking me out for the past thirty seconds. I can give you a better view if you want."
"I wasn't—"
"Your eyes just happened to travel from my shoulders"—he gestured—"down to my waist, then my legs?" His voice dropped lower. "Very thorough inspection, Maya."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "I was just—I happened to be looking in that direction!"
"Happened to?" He took a step closer. The elevator suddenly felt about three sizes too small. "Then maybe you'd like to verify your visual assessment. Touch is more reliable than sight, after all."
He reached for his suit jacket button.
"Stop it!" I pressed myself against the elevator wall. "I wasn't checking you out!"
"No?" Adam's hand dropped, but he moved even closer, backing me fully into the corner. "Then why did you stare at my neck for a solid ten seconds?"
"I didn't—"
"And my hands. You definitely looked at my hands."
I had. Shit. Those hands had been all over me once. I knew exactly how they felt—
"There are plenty of good-looking guys in this building," I said, lifting my chin. "I look at attractive people all the time. Doesn't mean anything."
Adam's entire expression changed. The playful light in his eyes vanished, replaced by something cold and possessive.
He grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Don't. Look. At. Other. Men."
I slapped his hand away. "You don't get to tell me what to do."
The elevator dinged.
I pushed past him toward the opening doors—then froze.
Underground parking garage. Concrete pillars, dim lighting, rows of expensive cars.
I'd pressed the button for the first floor. I knew I had.
"You—" I spun around to glare at Adam. "You changed it!"
He smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Come on. I'm taking you somewhere good for lunch."
"I can get my own lunch, thank you very much."
Adam's arm came around my waist before I could dodge. He steered me toward his car—the Aston Martin, gleaming under the fluorescent lights.
"Adam—"
"Trust me," he murmured near my ear. "You'll like where we're going."
---
I buckled my seatbelt with more force than necessary. Adam slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. The car purred to life.
We pulled out of the garage. Heavy clouds pressed down on the city.
Something occurred to me. "Wait. James said you wanted to see Julian."
"I lied."
I turned to stare at him. "What?"
"I told James to get Julian out of the conference room." Adam kept his eyes on the road, completely unbothered. "I wanted to talk to you alone."
"That's—that's so immature!"
"Is it?" He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. "Seemed effective to me."
My phone buzzed in my purse. Julian's name flashed on the screen.
I answered. "Hey—"
"Maya, which restaurant are you at? I'll come meet you."
I looked at Adam. His jaw was set, eyes fixed ahead.
"Um—"
The phone was plucked from my hand.
"Adam!" I lunged for it, but he held it out of reach while pressing it to his ear.
"Maya's with me," he said coolly into the phone. "We're going out to eat. Do you need something, Mr. Garrison? Because if it's not urgent, it can wait until after lunch. This is her personal time."
He ended the call.
I snatched my phone back. "That was incredibly rude."
"Was it?" Adam merged onto Storrow Drive. "I thought I was being clear."
"You're jealous," I accused.
"Observant."
I crossed my arms. "Julian is my boss. A professional colleague. That's it."
"Good." Adam's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "Because he's a playboy. Probably has a different woman every week. God knows what kind of diseases he's picked up."
My jaw dropped. "Are you serious right now?"
"I'm serious about you not wasting your time on him." He shot me a look. "I'm single. Faithful. I don't sleep around. I'm—let's see—successful, financially stable, and objectively attractive. You'd be stupid to pick a beat-up used car when you could have a brand-new Rolls-Royce."
"I don't want either one."
That made him falter. "What?"
"I said I don't want either of you."
"Why not me?" His voice rose slightly. "Julian I understand. But why rule me out?"
I looked out the window. "Rolls-Royces are expensive. If I scratch the paint, it'll cost tens of thousands to fix. I can't afford that."
Adam's expression softened. "I'd get full coverage insurance. You could drive it however you wanted."
"That's even worse." I kept my tone light, conversational. "What happens when you wake up in a bad mood one day and decide I've put too many miles on it? You'll probably charge me depreciation fees."
Adam turned to look at me, his expression wounded—almost puppy-like.
"Maya—"
I grabbed his face and pushed it back toward the windshield. "Eyes on the road.