Company Ink by E.L. Lewis

t h i r t y – t h r e e

There are no jobs in Seattle. None. At least none that I really want. I've sent out around thirty resumes to various companies, most of which are looking for office administrators, something I don't really want to be doing but at this point, it doesn't matter.

Adrian and I have barely talked this week. He's had to work overtime almost every single day. I guess having an assistant is crucial in his line of work. Kitty said that the office has been insane, that Blake has been a total nightmare. David got roped into helping Blake, and Kitty swears that she saw David crying in the breakroom at one point. Poor guy, but also, hah karma.

I've been wearing the same leggings and hoodie for four days now, but hey, I'm funemployed, I think I have the right to be a lazy slob. I've earned it.

But tonight, is the night.

My first official date with Adrian and I'm honestly so fucking excited. Not just because I get to dress up, but because I miss him. Only him.

Monique has been an angel this week, handling my mood swings like a certified professional. She's given me enough advice to last the rest of the year. You need to focus on what you've got, Cassie, not on what could've been. She's right. I can't force someone to be upfront. I can't convince someone to be real with me. I can't dwell on the could-haves and should-haves. I have Adrian. He's stepped up. He's given me what I want. A commitment. Security. And that's what I need to focus on.

Adrian: Hello beautiful, are you ready? I'll be outside in 10 mins

Cassie: Just putting on some finishing touches ;)

Adrian: Can't wait to see you

Adrian: and remove those 'touches' at the end of the night

Cassie: <eye roll emoji>  smooooth

Grinning, I drop my phone on my bed and twirl around my room, my floor-length red dress flowing gracefully behind me. He's exciting. Adrian's exciting. And I need that. I crave it.

I grab my clutch and head downstairs; our doorman gives me a knowing look. "Big night planned, Miss Carrington?" Mr. Hyatt asks, nodding towards the black stretch limousine parked outside the complex.

My jaw nearly drops. "Yeah..." I manage to say through my giddiness. "I guess so!" I haven't been in a limo since Monique, and I crashed a WSU grad party. This is nuts.

"Have fun," Mr. Hyatt says with a wink. "But not too much fun."

"I'll be good!" I assure him. "Or at least I'll try."

Mr. Hyatt laughs as I exit the building and mumbles, "Ah, to be young again."

I saunter towards the car, my eyes wide, my heart pounding. Adrian's leaning against the limousine, wearing a fitted black tuxedo, bow tie, his dark hair slicked back, and a rose in his hand. I knew I wasn't overdoing it when I decided to wear an evening gown. After all, it's Adrian.

Adrian's eyes glisten as he gives me a slow once-over, licking his lips. "Good evening, Cassie," he whispers, tugging on my waist and pulling me towards his firm frame. "You look absolutely gorgeous." He laces his fingers gently through my hair, his mouth pressing against mine, coaxing my lips apart, leaving me breathless. "You have no idea how much I've missed this."

Me too. His kiss is sensational, arousing, God damn criminal. It's been one minute, one, and I'm ready to call it a night. Hopeless. Putty in his hands.

I try and catch my breath as I pull away. "Adrian, perhaps dinner then dessert," I offer, teasing him, running my finger along his chest, attempting to hold my shit together.

Adrian coils my finger around his large palm. "I can wait, Cariño," he coos. "But can you?"

"Let's place a wager, Mr. Cavallero," I smirk, running my fingers up and down his arm. "I bet I can hold out much much longer than you can."

Adrian's body tenses, his eyes darkened with lust and humor. "What a silly wager," he whispers, leaning into my ear. "I win either way."

Fuck.

Adrian lets go of my hand and opens the limo door for me, revealing vases upon crystal vases of red roses. Dozens. Hundreds. Covering every seat. Every crevice.

I bite my lip, the sweet flowery aroma filling my lungs. "You're so extra," I giggle as Adrian helps me inside the car. "A bouquet would've been just fine."

"Not for you, Cassie," Adrian grins sliding in next to me. "You deserve all the beauty in the world."

I roll my eyes. "So mushy," I tease, my heart fluttering like a horny love depraved teenager. "But thank you, they're lovely." I pick one up and smell it. "I'm not entirely sure how I'll bring them all upstairs but thank you."

Adrian presses his lips together as the limo begins moving. "I hadn't thought that far ahead," he admits with a chuckle. "Perhaps we can coordinate an assembly line of sorts."

"Good idea! I'll recruit all my neighbors to help," I quip.

"You try to be romantic..." Adrian shakes his head, his eyes alight with amusement. "You're a difficult woman to please, aren't you Cassie?"

"Me?" I feign offense. "I'm a simple girl. Very low maintenance."

"People who are low maintenance seldom advertise themselves as such," Adrian retorts playfully.

"Oh, shut up." I give him a slight nudge with my elbow. "So where are we going right now? You were super vague on the phone last night."

Adrian smirks. "I hope you don't get seasick."

"Oh my God, are you taking me kayaking under the stars?" I pout. "Adrian..."

Adrian sighs. "Think bigger, querida."

"A tugboat?!" I joke, my eyes widening. "You shouldn't have! I've always wanted to honk one of those horns!"

Adrian closes his eyes. "You are so—"

"Charming? Witty? Funny?" I bat my eyelashes. "I know, I know. You're so lucky."

Adrian cocks his head to the side. "I was going to say annoying."

I snap my fingers. "Yes! That too. All part of the package."

Adrian chuckles. "Show me where to sign."

***

The marina is dark, only the lights from the docked yachts illuminating the area. Adrian holds my hand as he leads me down the labyrinth of paths, past boats that are worth more than three of my parent's houses. They're huge, sturdy, extravagant. I'm in awe, but there's something about being here that is causing my anxiety to spike. This better not be a reoccurring feeling. I love boating. I love the ocean. But right now, I feel a bit queasy.

"What do you think?" Adrian asks, stopping in front of an eggshell-white yacht, dim light glowing from all three decks. God, this thing's got to be at least twenty meters wide.

"You own a boat?" I ask, tilting my head back. "It's...big."

Adrian lets out a laugh, gesturing for me to step aboard. "Cassie, this yacht costs three million dollars, a luxury, even for me." We climb the stairs up to the top deck. "But tonight, it's ours."

I look out into the harbor, the setting sun has left deep red and purple hues lingering in the sky, the moon visible through the clouds. "Are we staying docked?" I ask, my eyes flickering to the dining table set up in front of us, covered in a lace tablecloth, wine, and silver china.

Adrian waves his hand in the air, making eye contact with the captain on the bridge. "Not for long," he says. "Please, sit down."

"You know, you're setting the bar really high for all future dates right now." I place my purse on the table, smiling. "I might just get used to this."

Adrian's eyes scan my face, soft, light. "Don't worry, Cariño, I'll try to keep you amazed," he whispers, reaching for my hand, stroking my palm with his long fingers. "So, tell me, how was your week? Are your parents all packed?"

"Yeah, pretty much. My mom sent me a video of the house. It's completely empty. Just boxes everywhere." I sigh. "I never realized that the entire house was wrapped in wallpaper until everything was gone."

A server strolls by carrying a tray of antipasto. "Your starter," he says, placing it down and quietly leaving.

Adrian retrieves the white wine from the chiller. "They're leaving next week, right?"

I nod. "Yeah, it almost feels surreal. A part of me doesn't believe it. They've lived in Seattle all their lives, I'm worried for them. They don't speak Spanish. My mother is horrible with directions. I don't know. It seems like such a drastic move."

Adrian hands me the glass of wine. "People crave adventure, no matter the age. This is theirs."

"I suppose so." I take a sip of the Chardonnay. "How do you do it? Live so far from your family? Do you ever miss them?"

"Of course, I do, my brother especially," Adrian says solemnly. "He moved back to Spain with my parents five years ago, he lives in Portugal with his wife now though, we talk often."

"And your parents? They're in Spain?"

"Yes, when my grandfather passed away, my father had to go home and take over operations at Cavloretta Couture. My mother protested, she loved America but obviously, she lost that fight." Adrian, swallows. "They're happy though, the company is doing great."

"'Because of the merger," I add, grinning. "It was a big deal in the fashion world, lots of blog sites wrote about it. I remember waiting for the first drop of the Il Ghiaccio/Cavloretta handbags, it was at like 3 am our time."

Adrian smiles lightly. "Did you get the bag?"

I pout. "No! They were sold out in minutes. But honestly, it's a good thing, that bag was expensive as fuck, Monique would've probably killed me for buying it."

"Monique seems like a very sensible person," Adrian observes as we nibble on the appetizers. "When's she getting married again?"

"Oh God, sensible is an understatement. That girl could be President if she wanted, she's diplomatic, smart, fair, and basically the best person in the world." And she'll be leaving me too. "Her wedding is in three weeks. So close."

Adrian tilts his head. "That's a lot of changes in a short amount of time."

"Tell me about it," I chuckle at my woes. "But it's okay. Monique deserves to be happy. Her fiancé is a gem. One of the nicest guys I've ever met, so kind and understanding. They're perfect together."

"You must really love Monique," Adrian says, pouring me another glass of wine. "You speak so highly of her."

"Monique and Vanessa, that's my cousin, are the lights of my life," I explain. "They're like my role models. My sisters."

Adrian nods in understanding. "My brother, Gabriel has always been my role model. It's funny that as you get older, the people you aspire to be like aren't celebrities or famous, they're the people closest to you. Your constants."

"Right? I remember being twelve and all I wanted was to be Hilary Duff, do you remember her? Lizzie McGuire? Little cartoon blonde inner monologue girl?"

Adrian's eyebrows knit with confusion. "I can't say that I do."

I roll my eyes. "Not the point, I guess. But I agree, once I started college, it all changed. God...growing up is scary."

Adrian laughs. "Cassie, you are a grown-up. An adult."

I frown. "It doesn't feel like it sometimes. All the responsibility, the pressures of being successful, self-sufficient. It's scary."

"It's life, querida," Adrian whispers, holding out his hand as he stands up. "We grow up, we learn, we love, and we live."

I narrow my eyes. "What're you doing?" I ask hesitantly.

"Let's dance," he says as classical music crackles through the speakers. "Before dinner comes."

"It's rare to find a man who enjoys dancing," I tease him, standing up and taking his hand. "You're an anomaly, Adrian."

He chuckles, pulling me closer to him. "No, Cassie," he whispers in my ear. "I'm European."

***

The yacht docks back at the marina. Adrian and I stumble off, laughing, holding each other, our bellies full of wine and food. Everything feels light. Airy. I'm happy. Content. Our conversation flowed comfortably, nothing was forced, nothing was fake. Everything was easy. So easy.

Adrian twirls me around his fingers as we walk down the waterfront, humming Chopin under his breath. Fun. So much fun.

"Where to now, Adrian?" I ask, laughing, trying to catch my breath, not caring that people are staring at us.

"Anywhere you want, querida," he says, wrapping his arm over my shoulder, kissing the side of my head. He points to the Seattle Great Wheel. "We could go on the Ferris wheel?"

I stiffen, Blake flashes through my mind. "No," I say quietly. "Something else." Anything else. "We can go get dessert."

Adrian smirks. "Yeah?" he breathes in my ear. "What're you in the mood for?"

I bite my lip, bringing my mouth up to his. "Something Spanish."

"Looks like I won the bet," he says, his eyes hooded and knowing. "My apartment is just down the street."

I lick my lips. "How convenient."

"Hmm," Adrian hums. "Incredibly so."

We walk, no speed walk, to his apartment, anticipation and months of pent-up sexual tension coursing through our veins.

Once we're in the elevator, all hell breaks loose.

He pins me to the wall, grabbing my face, dragging his hand from my jaw to my neck, to my breasts, cupping them, squeezing. I throw my head back as he nips at my skin with his teeth, moaning. How long is this fucking elevator ride?!

I run my hands through his hair, our tongues dancing, battling for reign. His kisses are calculated, accurate, driven, he knows exactly what he's doing and I'm melting, a puddle. The doors open and we tumble into his hallway, latching onto every limb, every exposed bit of flesh, ravenous, hungry, erotic.

"I love your apartment," I mumble jokingly, as we crash through his living room, my eyes closed. "Who's your decorator?"

Adrian bites my lip, a metallic taste lingers in my mouth, his strong hand moving up and down my back. "Not now," he rasps, his tongue wet against my ear as we stumble into the bedroom.

I tug on his jacket, pulling it off his shoulders, my mouth not leaving his. I fumble around with his tie, the buttons, so much fabric. Too much fabric. "Help me," I whisper. How many fucking layers is he wearing?

Adrian's laugh fills my lungs, sugary, and sweet. "Someone's impatient," he grumbles, undoing his shirt. I run my hands over his bare chest as he reaches for my zipper, his hand fluttering down my back. My dress drops down to my ankles. I take a step backward, my calves bumping the side of the bed. Adrian pushes me down, climbing on top of me, his mouth leaving wet trails down my stomach, my chest, his fingers grazing the fabric covering my breasts, pinching my nipples.

"Oh, God," I moan, pulling his hair, causing Adrian to tighten his grip. "Adrian—" I breathe, panting as he shakes his pants off, only a thin piece of fabric between our sweaty bodies.

He bites my neck, his hand lifting up my thigh. "So beautiful," he whispers, dragging his hand down my stomach, my insides burning.

"Condom?" I mutter, my mind literally exploding from his touch.

Adrian's muscles tense. "Fuck!" he growls, pulling back, his pupils wide, his chest heaving.

"No..." I whine. "Seriously?" I prop myself up on my forearm, my heart racing. "You don't have a fucking condom? You?"

Unbelievable!

Adrian runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "Fuck!"

"Yeah, I'm trying to but someone—" I'm cut off by Adrian's mouth on mine, demanding, angry.

Adrian pulls away aggressively and hops off the bed. I've never seen someone put pants on that fast before. "There's a drugstore across the street, stay here!" His tone is frazzled, irritated. Same.

I narrow my eyes at the bulge in the front of his pants, trying not to laugh. "Maybe put on a long coat," I joke, but Adrian does not find it funny.

"Five minutes!" he says and disappears.

I shake my head, trying to find my purse. I'm half-naked, in a man's bed, not having sex. Great. Fantastic. Peachy. I find my phone and pull up Instagram to pass the time. What kind of man doesn't have condoms? I'm at a loss. I have condoms. Everyone has condoms. Except for Adrian, I guess.

I pull his blanket up to my chest. Without his body heat, it's kind of chilly in this room. After the third ad for FabFitFun on my stories, I hear a vibrating sound coming from the side table, followed by a long chirping ring. I crane my neck towards the noise. God, that's fucking loud. What is that? I turn on the lamp. Oh, his work phone. I press the side button to stop the ringing and go back to scrolling.

It rings again. Oh my God. I mute it.

And again. Seriously? Who the hell makes calls at 11 pm? Do lawyers never sleep?

I check the caller ID. Huh. What's +39? That seems international. I mute it again. Maybe it's his parents.

When it rings the fourth time, I just about lose it.

"Hello?" I say, answering the call. "Adrian Cavallero's phone, how may I help you?"

"Adrian?" A soft, feminine voice with an Italian accent asks. "Adrian?"

I sigh. "No, Adrian's not here right now, this is uh—his assistant." Meh, kinda true.

"Oh—"

"Can I take a message for you?" I ask, utterly annoyed by everything right now. Where is he?!

"No, just tell him to call me back. It's an emergency."

"Sure," I say, checking the caller ID again. There's no name saved. "May I please ask who's calling?"

"It's Mariela," she says hesitantly. "His uh—his wife."