Next Stop: Love (5 page)

“Give him a minute to get settled in, and then go see him,” Aileen advised me, so exactly one minute later, I knocked on his door, armed with a notepad.

“Come in,” he said, and when I entered the room, the cold air wafting in from the open window circled around my ankles. He’d taken off his jacket, exposing a dark silk shirt that wonderfully spanned the contours of his body. Why did he have to be so tall and muscular? I was hardly going to be able to focus on business.

“Good morning, Mr. Marcs. Your appointments—” I began, but he interrupted me immediately.

“Mr. Marcs? I’m not my dad, Sophia; you can go ahead and call me Luca.” He sat down at his desk, looking amused.

“I’m not used to calling superiors by their first names, so if you don’t mind, I’d rather keep it at Mr. Marcs,” I pleaded.

The twinkle in his eye faded slightly as he regarded me. “If you’re worried that it could somehow compromise our professional relationship, then let me assure you again that everyone here goes by first names. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“That may be, but . . . I’d still rather call you Mr. Marcs,” I said. I definitely did not want any kind of friendly rapport to develop between us. He was my boss, and I was his employee, and either he respected that, or this wasn’t going to work.

He must have read as much on my face, because eventually he gave in with a sigh. “Fair enough . . . for the time being. And now, please, sit down.” He gestured at a free seat.

I did as requested and got straight down to business. “Harry Cooper called and wants to arrange a new appointment with you—they’re still interested. Mr. Wiens and Mr. Andenburg agreed to meet you for dinner. After eight would be best for them.” As I went through my notes, I felt his eyes on me, which made me nervous. Sure, this was how every morning would start from now on, but his intimidating presence would still take some getting used to. “Luis wants to talk to you about the air-conditioning in the building, particularly in the elevators, and . . . I believe you haven’t been to the gym in a while. In over a year, to be precise. I know it’s none of my business, but maybe you should consider canceling your membership? I can take care of that for you,” I offered awkwardly. This was exactly the kind of thing I didn’t want to know about.

“Really? Huh. I thought I had done that a long time ago. At some point I got sick of the gym and started jogging,” he murmured as though to himself, without a hint of self-consciousness. Didn’t he find it embarrassing to talk about this with his assistant? Then he looked at me, and he realized that I was blushing wildly. “You find it unpleasant to discuss my personal affairs with me?” he asked, and that mischievous look returned to his eyes. He obviously enjoyed seeing me uncomfortable.

“Well, I’m fresh from law school, where data protection and privacy play important roles. So, yes, I find it unpleasant,” I admitted. Lying wouldn’t have done any good, anyway, because he could see how I felt.

He folded his hands behind his head. “It doesn’t bother me at all, you know? I’m used to people being able to see my cards. Been that way since I was little.”

Tell me about it. I’d never been able to keep anything secret from my mother, either. She’d gone through my e-mails, listened in on my calls, and pumped my friends for information about me. That crazy woman. I was so glad to finally be rid of her. “But that’s . . . sad, isn’t it?” I asked. “Never having your own space, always having to explain yourself, always being under observation.” I couldn’t suppress the note of pain in my voice.

He straightened up a little, as though he’d heard it, too, and regarded me thoughtfully. “Sounds like you have some experience with that as well.” His gaze rested heavily on me; I felt like his X-ray eyes were boring directly into my soul.

I cleared my throat, disconcerted. “No, fortunately I don’t.” I wasn’t sure whether he bought my lie, but rather than pushing the issue, he asked me to continue with my morning report.

After twenty minutes, we’d discussed and adjusted all of his appointments, and I stood up from my chair.

“Oh, one other thing,” he said. “Can you send a pot of chamomile tea my way?”

Casting a glance at the cup I’d assumed had contained coffee, I suddenly had to stifle a laugh.

He noticed and asked, “Did I miss something?”

I bit down hard on my bottom lip but couldn’t suppress the grin, and I ended up snorting loudly. “Excuse me, please,” I said, amused, but also shocked that I was actually laughing at my boss. “I’ve just never seen a businessman drinking chamomile tea.”

He stared at me for a moment, and I thought he was going to complain about my behavior, but then he gave me a roguish smile. “I’m no ordinary manager. Anyway, chamomile tea has a number of benefits. I’ll show them to you when I have the chance,” he added before turning to his laptop.

Show me? What did he mean by that? And what was that undertone in his voice?

When I returned to my seat, Mary studied me through narrowed eyes. Good Lord, what was her problem? Did she think I’d just gone in there for a quickie? If she was so into Luca, she should tell him so, rather than acting like I was trying to steal him from her.

I finished work promptly at four in the afternoon, and apart from the fact that Mary had tried to murder me with her eyes, I’d really enjoyed my first day. Pleasant work environment, nice coworkers. I would definitely be back.

CAFÉ CON LUCA

The next two weeks flew by, and I settled in nicely at Marcs Entertainment. After just three days I no longer needed Aileen’s help, and I worked conscientiously and confidently. Luca and I became a well-coordinated team as well; my morning office visits were still accompanied by a slight fluttering in my stomach, but over time I learned how to deal with it and ignore his scrutinizing gaze. Even Mary seemed like she was starting to feel bad about her snide remarks, or else it annoyed her that I hardly reacted to them. At any rate, she made fewer and fewer comments, contenting herself with staring daggers at me when I emerged from his office.

“What’s that?” I asked Aileen as she clapped a yellow envelope onto my desk.

“Your invitation to the company party,” she said, and dropped into her chair. “We all got ours weeks ago, but they weren’t sure whether you’d be staying,” she added. “So that’s why you’re just getting yours now.”

“Oh, so they thought I did well during the probationary period?” I smiled in satisfaction as I opened the envelope. “The day after tomorrow?” I asked once I had read the invitation. “So soon?” There was little enthusiasm in my voice.

“And you need to wear formal clothes,” Aileen said from her desk.

“But I don’t own a ball gown,” I said. “And here it specifically says you should bring your partner, but I don’t have one.”

“Then you’d better get both by Saturday.” She grinned. When my face remained serious, she said, “Just joking. Of course you don’t
have
to bring anyone, but you can ask your roommate. And surely you’ll manage to scrounge up a nice dress somewhere.”

So after work I went looking for an appropriate dress and struck gold in a secondhand store. A chic designer dress at a giveaway price—that was my kind of shopping.

When I got home, Lisa had dinner waiting for me. Lasagna, her favorite food. “So? Did Mr. Rolex bother you again?” she asked as she scooped a much-too-large serving onto my plate.

“His name is Luca,” I replied, annoyed at how she never called him by his real name. “How often do I have to tell you that? And, no, he doesn’t bother me.” I knew I sounded defensive, so I tried to temper my response. “He just makes slightly inappropriate comments sometimes, that’s all.”

Lisa laughed. “Those slightly inappropriate comments are called flirting, you dummy.”

“He’s not flirting with me,” I said with a shake of my head. “That’s just his way of entertaining himself. He talks that way to all women.”

“Oh yeah? What was that about ‘I’ll show you the many varied benefits of chamomile tea’?” she asked, imitating a male voice.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by that,” I protested, chewing. “And if you don’t cut it out, I’ll stop telling you anything!”

She rolled her eyes. “God, Sophia, how blind can you possibly be? That guy is into you, and he’s flirting with you, and everyone in the universe besides you can see it!” She gave me a scrutinizing look. “Or do you just not want to see it?” she prodded me.

“I couldn’t care less what he’s doing.” I shrugged. “Our relationship is purely professional, nothing else. So are you coming with me to the company party?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject. I didn’t want to think or talk about whether he was flirting with me. He was a good-looking business professional who most likely slept with a different girl every week. Either way, I wasn’t interested.

“No time. I have to hand in my test report by Sunday,” she explained, chewing her pasta with relish. Well, great. If there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was showing up to a party alone. But I was new, so I couldn’t get away with just staying home.

After dinner, we headed into the living room and argued about our movie selection for the evening. Like always, actually. Lisa was only interested in fantasy films, of course, while I tried suggesting various thrillers. Eventually we agreed on
The Hunger Games
. Afterward, I had to admit I’d loved it, even though I normally wasn’t a big fan of sci-fi.

The office buzzed with excitement the following day. All anyone could talk about was the party and what decorations the fashion department had come up with this time. The theme was Prom, and suddenly I found myself wondering whether my dress wasn’t a little too plain, after all. Didn’t people usually go all out for balls? On the other hand, that wasn’t my style, anyway, and I didn’t want to steal the show from Mary, who’d had a dress specially made, as she’d proudly announced. Sad. In some parts of the world, people didn’t even have rags to cover themselves with, and here people had clothes custom made for something as unimportant as an office party. I knew why I’d gone to a secondhand store.

“Hey, Aileen, who are you bringing?” I asked.

“My mom,” she said. “She loves our parties.”

“Want to meet somewhere beforehand, or are you guys coming by taxi?” Under no circumstances did I want to go alone.

“Sure. We’re taking the tram from Alexanderplatz, so we can meet there,” she suggested.

“Great.” I stood up because my lunch break was about to start. “For that, I’ll bring you back a cupcake,” I promised, tossing my handbag over my shoulder.

“One of the white ones with rainbow sprinkles!” she called after me as I made my way toward the elevators. I saluted, then got into the elevator.

Mary got on at the third floor, saying a quick good-bye to Luis as she stepped in.

“You’re going to look fabulous, honey,” Luis told her and gave her a little kiss on the cheek. “As always.”

“I know,” she purred, grinning. When she saw me, her smile took on a boastful note. “So, found a dress yet?” she asked without actually sounding the least bit interested in the answer.

“I’m sure it won’t be as grandiose as yours,” I said, since that was what she wanted to hear.

“No, I’m sure it won’t,” she agreed confidently. “I’ve won best-dressed female employee every year so far, and it’ll be the same this year.”

The elevator doors opened.

“Well, then, congratulations in advance,” I replied dryly as I got out. She stayed in the elevator and rode back up. God, what a self-important bitch. As if I cared who’d be wearing the prettiest dress tomorrow. I was just happy that I hadn’t blown my entire savings, which had to last until I got my first paycheck at the end of the month. Man, I could hardly wait.

I walked to Café Léon, which was around the corner from the office and had the best cupcakes in town—at least, that was what I’d been told. I was there for the healthy lunch selections, so I could indulge in something sweet afterward without feeling guilty. Plus, I liked the ambience, and they had daily newspapers out on the tables, so I had a chance to catch up on the news. There were fashion and gossip magazines as well, which would have been more Mary’s speed . . . if she ever came here anymore. After one of the employees had accidentally spilled coffee on her skirt, though, she’d never shown her face here again. That was her favorite story, and she told it about once a week.

I was heading over to sit at my regular table when I saw Luca sitting there, steaming cup in one hand, eyes fixed attentively on the newspaper. What was he doing here? I’d never seen him in this café before. Should I go over to him or ignore him? I mean, he was my boss, and just because we worked together didn’t mean I should interrupt his free time.

I ended up taking a seat four tables over, adjusting my chair so that there was another guest blocking my view of him. That way, if he noticed me, I could act like I hadn’t seen him. Was that cowardly? What else was I supposed to do? I wasn’t as cool as Aileen, who would have sat down at his table with some casual remark. I mean, I wasn’t the very embodiment of shyness, either, but I didn’t quite have the self-confidence for something like that . . . or the long legs, like Mary.

Reluctantly, I turned my attention to the fashion magazine at my table. Obviously, I could have moved or gone and grabbed a different magazine, but that would have required me to stand up, and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. So I placed my order with the waitress and then checked out the latest fashion trends.

A few minutes later, a shadow fell across the page. “You’re not planning on going under the knife, are you?” I jumped at the sound of Luca’s voice beside me. Somehow I’d let myself get caught up in an article about plastic surgery, although not one that was encouraging it in any way—it was all about botched jobs.

“Um, no. This is all just nonsense, anyway,” I told him, hurriedly closing the magazine. Immediately, I felt like punching myself—it must have looked like I was embarrassed about what he’d caught me reading.

The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. “You don’t seem surprised to see me. More like you were hiding from me on purpose.”

“Oh, uh, sure I am. Surprised, I mean. What are you doing here?” I tried to sound as astonished as possible.

He laughed as though I’d just made the funniest joke in the world, which told me that he wasn’t buying my poor acting at all. “Don’t you want to sit with me?” he finally asked.

“Why don’t
you
come sit with
me
?” I countered.

His eyes twinkled merrily. “I have a window seat,” he said to entice me. “Much nicer ambience over there.” That was true. The café was divided up into four areas, each decorated in a different color. My regular table was in a warm red corner, and the comfortable chairs were dotted with colorful pillows. It had a good view of the sidewalk, so I could watch people shopping.

“Sold,” I said, and rose from my chair. I was going to carry my plate and glass over, but he took care of that for me, indicating for me to walk ahead. Once we sat down, I said, “I would have sat here in the first place, but you stole my regular table.”

He raised his eyebrows and let out a bewildered laugh. “I stole your table? I’ve been working around the corner a lot longer than you have, so if anything, it’s the other way around.”

I shrugged, unimpressed. “But I’ve never seen you here before, and I’ve been here almost every day for the past two weeks,” I pointed out.

He ran his fingers along his lips contemplatively, one elbow resting on the back of his chair. “Maybe now I have a reason to start coming in more often again.”

As I always did when he dropped such remarks, I simply pretended I hadn’t heard and focused on my salad, pointedly avoiding his eyes. Couldn’t he just cut it out already? Surely he’d noticed by now that I wasn’t the kind of woman who let people butter her up.

When I’d finished eating, I looked at the clock—twenty more minutes—and asked, “Can I borrow your newspaper, Mr. Marcs? I’m sure there are plenty of subjects that are much more interesting than plastic surgery.”

He handed it to me. “How much longer are you planning on calling me that, Sophia?” Once again, my name seemed to melt in his mouth like chocolate, as though he were letting each individual letter roll off his tongue and dissolve. Had he learned that trick somewhere?

“Until you fire me?” I took a sip of water.

At that, he leaned across the table, arms folded. “You mean I’d really have to let you go first?”

“Only if you’re sick of me.” I smiled without raising my eyes from the paper. I had to admit that sometimes our little moments of banter were really amusing. Mostly they weren’t, though.

“You do your work pretty well,” he mused aloud, “so I’ll have to come up with another solution.”

“Have fun with that,” I said, casting another glance at the clock.

“Are you in a hurry or something? Why do you keep checking the time?” he asked ten minutes later.

“I have to get back to work. At Marcs Entertainment.” Leaning closer, I added in a conspiratorial whisper, “The boss is a jerk, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

His laugh was so wonderful that I was only too happy to join in, and I found myself wondering if maybe we could end up being friends someday. “Seriously, you don’t have to go yet,” he said when I called the waitress over.

“Yes, I do,” I insisted. “I have to work.”

“And, as it happens, you work for me,” he replied.

“True, but if I stay out too long on my lunch break, what does that look like? I don’t want people to think that I get special treatment just because I’m your assistant.” My status was something I wanted neither to exploit nor to flaunt.

“It’ll look like we scheduled in a meeting for afterward.” He shrugged. His expression left no room for argument, so I gave in. As informal as we occasionally were around each other, I didn’t want to keep talking back to him every time. He was still my boss, even if I nearly forgot it sometimes. So I ordered a coffee and he ordered another tea, and when I returned to my desk later, everyone was staring at me, just as I’d feared.

“Luca and I scheduled in a meeting after lunch,” I explained, at which Anne and Samantha exchanged a giggling glance.

“Sure, honey,” Anne said with a wink. “We’ll take your word for it.”

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to my work. Just what I didn’t need: rumors about me having an affair with my boss. I swore to myself that I would never let him talk me into that again.