Beast (7 page)

It’s a jerk chicken Caesar salad today.

I push my laptop aside and make room in the middle of my desk for the takeout container. I peel off the lid and the aroma of Caribbean spices fills my office causing my mouth to water and my stomach to rumble. I pluck up a slice of chicken with my fingers and pop it into my mouth.

Utterly delicious.

Yesterday, it was a pita with chickpeas, veggies and hummus. I really enjoyed that. It was a small artisanal pizza the day before.

Liam’s been sending me lunch every day this week. His secretary wordlessly drops it on the corner of my desk and moseys out of my office before I can protest. And to be honest, most days, I’m too hungry to refuse it.

There’s always a note at the bottom of the bag, scribbled onto Post-It paper or on the back of an old envelope.

Your hair looks nice today…Have a great afternoon…Green looks good on you…I’m sorry I hurt you…

That last one got me a bit choked up.

Have I forgiven him? Hell no. He’s a jerk and he’s got a prominent spot on my hit list. But the food he sends me is a definite step up from what I’m used to having for lunch, that is, a granola bar, chips and an energy drink and any other junk dispensed by the vending machines in the staff room.

And I’m starting to look forward to the notes, too.

I lick my fingers and grab the plastic fork from the bottom of the paper bag. I dig in greedily. In a matter of minutes, I’ve devoured the whole thing and polished it off with the bottle of mango juice that came with the meal. I wipe my mouth with a napkin and slump back in my chair.

That was so good.

I look across the hallway and notice a small opening between two of the slats of his blinds. He’s watching me. How fucking annoying.

I don’t get this guy. I can’t read him. One minute he’s breaking my heart, the next minute he’s virtually stalking me. But at this point, I don’t care what’s on his agenda. I’m keeping my distance and I’m protecting my heart.

I rise out of my chair, glaring at the space in his blinds as I slam the door shut.

I watch as Luce deposits the brown paper bag on the corner of Jasmine’s desk. The two women exchange sheepish glances as they’ve been doing ever since I started having lunch delivered to Jasmine daily. She works hard and she neglects to take care of herself. And as the man that’s crazy about her, the least I can do is make sure that she’s eats everyday.

At first, she looked reluctant as Luce would deliver the food, but now, two weeks later, she actually seems eager to look into the bag everyday and find out what I’ve ordered her. I enjoy picking out what she’ll eat and what restaurant to order from. And I love the face she makes when she bites into something delicious for the first time. I love seeing her lick her fingers after a delectable meal. I love the way she slumps back in her chair and takes a minute to relax when she’s done eating.

And the best part is, she doesn’t slam the door shut anymore when she catches me peeping at her.

It looks like we’re making progress.

I probably shouldn’t push it, but I’m dying to actually eat
with
her today. To sit across the table from her and watch her lips move as she chews, to see her eyes light up as she tells me a silly story.

I should just go eat with her. Right?...No – I can’t. I’ve got to keep her at arm’s length…Or, maybe I should just stop being a coward and go eat with her. What’s so hard about that?

And so goes the back and forth in my head.

The battle is still going strong in my mind when a bit of commotion picks up in the hallway. I glance out the blinds and see a small group of secretaries ushering a tall, suited man down the hallway. He basks in the attention and wears a self-important grin as he carries an obnoxiously-large bouquet of flowers in his hands. The women look like they’re about to collectively swoon.

My chest clenches tight as I watch him enter Jasmine’s office.

“Chess!”

The handsome, charming New York state-senator-slash-presidential-candidate is the last person I expected to see when I glanced up from my computer screen. And the gigantic bouquet he’s holding is even more unexpected.

He steps into my office and he’s taller and more handsome than I remember, with his dreamy blond hair brushed back off of his forehead, his clean-shaven chiseled face and those penetrating blue eyes.

“Jasmine – you look absolutely…I can’t even find words,” he gushes as he stretches the flowers out to me.

I rise on unsteady feet to take the bouquet from him and set it on the small shelf near the window. “Thank you,” I blush, glancing down at my simple white blouse. I discreetly brush away oatmeal crumbs from the energy bar I ate earlier.

“I hope the flowers are okay,” he says nodding his chin in the direction of the bouquet. “I didn’t know what flowers you like so I got you jasmines. Y’know, ‘cause your name is ‘Jasmine’.”

That gets me to giggle. “Well, that was very sweet of you.”

He takes my hand and places a kiss on my knuckles. “Sweet gesture for a sweet girl.”

I bite back a smile. This guy is an expert at flattery. Even his over-the-top, cheesy delivery works. “Wh-what are you doing here?” Saying that I feel flustered and taken off-guard by his visit is an understatement.

He flashes me that 1000-megawatt grin. “Told you I’d take you to lunch next time I was in the city.” He says it so matter-of-factly like showing up at my job unannounced in the middle of the day to whisk me off to lunch is the most ordinary thing in the world.

“I just – I didn’t expect that you actually meant it,” I say. With my track record – a.k.a. Liam Cartwright – I’ve learned not to get my hopes up because some guys make promises they have no intention of keeping. “And I have so much work to do...” I’m overwhelmed just glancing at the to-do list jotted down onto a small sheet of yellow paper stuck to the corner of my computer screen.

“Well, I was in town and I decided to drop by –” He stops midsentence and gives me a forthright look. “Oh, hell – I’m lying. I just couldn’t stop thinking about your pretty smile so I moved around some campaign events and drove into Manhattan to see you.”

A wave of heat courses over my entire body. “You postponed campaign events and drove to Manhattan just to see
me
?”

He’s grinning again and I can’t help the thumping of my heart. “So, are you gonna come eat with me or are you gonna turn me down? Gas isn’t cheap these days so you’d better say ‘yes’.” He winks.

I find myself giggling again. “Okay, okay. I guess I can spare a few minutes for a quick lunch.”

“That’s fantastic,” Chess says as I quickly log out of my computer and grab my purse.

I throw a glance at the takeout bag containing the lunch that Liam sent me today. For a fraction of a second, I fell a pang of guilt low in my stomach. But, I chase it away. I won’t let this misplaced sense of loyalty to Liam get in the way of having a great lunch with Chess.

I round my desk and Chess follows me out the door, his hand going to the small of my back as I step into the hallway. The touch makes me a tiny bit uncomfortable; it feels too intimate, too cozy. But when I glance across the hall and notice the slat of Liam’s blinds rustling, I turn to Chess, give him my widest smile and loop my arm through his.

The shock comes first. Then, it’s rage pumping through my body.

I yank the knot of my tie away from my throat because suddenly the air in the room is thick and hot.

Who the fuck was that guy who just waltzed in here with those goddamned flowers and left with my Jasmine?

My mind keeps replaying that wide, happy grin she wore as she wove her arm through his. That smile should be for me. Nobody else.

I want to break something. Rip it to shreds.

I shove my fingers through my hair and pull at the roots as I pace the floor. I snatch up the paper bag containing my lunch and pitch it at a wall. Soup goes flying in all directions, staining the walls, the carpet and one of the chairs sitting in the corner of my office.

Not my Jasmine. I can’t watch another man take her from me.

There’s a soft, tentative knock at my door before it opens a crack. Luce sticks her head into my office, her eyes filled with trepidation. “Mr. Cartwright, is everything okay?”

I take a deep breath and halt my pacing. I try to relax my shoulders as best I can. I already know that my scarred face and large frame scare her. I don’t want to make it worse by acting like a psycho. “Luce, come in.”

She licks the corner of her mouth nervously as she practically tiptoes in. When she sees the mess of food dripping down the wall and puddled on the carpet, her eyes go wide. “W-would you like me to get someone in here to clean that up?”

I tug at the roots of my hair. “Who was that? Who was that man with the flowers? The one who left with Ms. Santiago?” I hate the tone of the jealousy coiled around my words.

A dreamy expression settles on Luce’s face, her hands clasping over her heart. “That was Senator Davidson,” she says wistfully. “He’s running for president.”