I do.
Disappointment threatens to wash over me, but I hold it at bay. I have to.
“I think I know what you were hoping for,” he says softly. “But what sort of marriage could we start if we’re on two different continents? It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. We’re still young, darling, especially you. We have plenty of time.”
“We’ve already been together almost two years . . .” My voice drifts and I drop my head, blinking my eyes shut for an agonizingly long moment before I open them again. I refuse to cry. I am twenty-three years old. I refuse to bawl like a little girl.
“And maybe we’ll have another year, maybe two years, like this, but I promise, I will marry you.” My heart leaps at his words. “I swear. I just—I need this. This promotion is important to me and I’m not the only one your father is considering. I’m a front-runner, but still, there are no guarantees. For you, it’s different. This is your family. They’ll give you whatever you want,” Zachary says, irritation making his voice scratchy. Does he even register the change in tone? “But for me? I have to work at it. Constantly.”
I stiffen my spine, offended by his words. They make it sound like I’m some sort of spoiled brat who gets whatever she wants whenever she wants. “I’ve worked very hard at Fleur since I was in my early teens,” I say in protest. “You know this.”
He waves a hand, whether dismissing his words or mine, I’m not exactly sure. “You know what I mean. Just . . . let me have this. I’m not a selfish man but I’ve worked damn hard for this career, Vi.” I hate it when he calls me Vi and he knows it. “I’m almost thirty years old. The time for me to do this is now. Before I marry you and we have children and I won’t be able to ever leave.”
The way he said that makes me think he would feel like he’s stuck with the wife and children. In other words, with me and our future children. Why am I letting this bother me? Am I being too sensitive? What he’s saying makes sense. He needs to push forward with his career. I understand that. But I need to push forward with my career as well. And my life. My personal life, with marriage and children and . . .
My voice is hesitant as I say, “I could ask my father to step in and offer you a promotion here—”
“No. I refuse to take that sort of handout. I will earn this promotion,” he says vehemently. “I want to do this. I would never hold you back, you know.”
“That’s not fair,” I murmur, my gaze locking with his. A mix- ture of anger and sadness fills me, but he doesn’t appear sad at all. No, he looks excited. Like this is exactly what he wants. What he needs.
Does this mean I’m not what he wants? What he needs? “It’s the truth,” he says simply. “And you know it.”
He never told me he was interviewing for the position. And this sort of thing goes on for weeks. Sometimes months. My fa- ther didn’t tell me either, and that hurts because he knew what was happening yet never gave me a warning. More than any- thing, though, I hate that Zachary has kept this secret from me.
Makes me wonder if he’s kept any other secrets.
Don’t fool yourself. He’s kept plenty of secrets from you. Why do you put up with him?
I swear my sister’s voice is berating me in my head. I can just see Lily’s smug expression, telling me she knew it all along. Zachary Lawrence doesn’t deserve me. She’s said that time and again. So has Rose.
I’m starting to wonder if they’re right.
A woman’s husky laugh draws my attention and I glance at a table a few feet away, recognition making my stomach sour. God, of course he’s here. A million restaurants in all of Manhattan and he’d have to show up in this one. The mysterious, arrogant Ryder McKay, fellow corporate employee of Fleur Cosmetics.
Ryder’s with . . . of course, Pilar Vasquez, his former boss, his supposed lover, girlfriend, whatever he might call her. Their relationship is strange, to say the least.
Strange because Pilar doesn’t talk about it and Ryder definitely doesn’t talk about it either. No one’s sure exactly what happens between them, but everyone would love to know.
Not that I want to know. Or really care. His arrogance, the look on his handsome face, the way he strides around the build- ing as if he’s the king of all he sees, drives me crazy.
If all goes as planned, that right will eventually go to Zachary someday. He is without a doubt the future CEO of Fleur.
Or me. I could be the CEO. Grandma has said that more than once. If I had half of her confidence, I could conquer the world.
All I know is that Ryder McKay is definitely not on par with Zachary and all of his experience. He’s worked at Fleur a bit longer than Zachary, a little over two years. He came to the company via Pilar, who got him a position since she worked with him at her previous employer. Somehow, he’s gotten into the good graces of practically every executive who works at Fleur. His charm is dangerous, and I can reluctantly admit he’s a valued employee.
Which makes him lethal. And I refuse to fall for him. Zachary hates his guts. Something about Ryder rubs me the wrong way.
Ignoring the disgust curling through my blood, I try my best to keep my attention on Zachary, trying to ignore that the life I’d planned is falling apart in front of my eyes. But Zachary’s phone rings, and he takes the call without asking if I mind. Like I don’t matter, and I hate that. I hate even more that he turns away so he can murmur into the phone without me hearing.
More secrets. It’s probably a woman. That I sit here and tolerate his behavior makes me want to smack him.
Or smack myself.
I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do, how to act, and I can’t help my gaze from drifting to where Ryder sits. He’s disgustingly gorgeous in a charcoal-gray suit and a crisp white shirt, though he’s sans tie and a few buttons are undone at the neck, revealing the sexy column of his throat. His dark brown hair is in slight disarray, as if he’s run his fingers through it countless times, and the entire look gives him a rakish air. One that says he doesn’t care what people think of him while he sits in a restaurant that caters to some of the richest people in all of Manhattan.
That is the exact sort of attitude Ryder McKay always seems to have and I find it infuriating. Not that I have to deal with him, not much. He was promoted to associate director of package development a few months ago, a position I now can’t help but wonder why Zachary didn’t apply for, though it would have been more of a lateral move, not necessarily a step up. It would have kept him in New York, though.
Unless Zachary had no desire to stay in New York . . .
I stare harder, wishing I could listen in on Ryder’s conversation with Pilar, but I can’t hear a thing. His face is shrouded in shadows, the candle flickering in the deep red votive that sits in the middle of the table casting it in golden light. He’s very attractive, I can reluctantly admit. Flashing a wicked smile at Pilar, he lets forth a glorious, downright filthy-sounding laugh that sends a spark of heat zipping over my skin.
Only because it sounds so devastatingly wrong and shockingly dirty, not because I have any sort of interest in him. He’s too quiet, too mysterious, too . . . dark and full of secrets. That wicked smile is still curving his lush lips as he reaches across the table and takes Pilar’s hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss.
I watch, transfixed, as Pilar laughs, her voice raspy as she seemingly admonishes him. He merely shakes his head in return and drops her hand, his gaze going to mine for the briefest second and then lingering.
I’m caught. Snared in his intense gaze and for a long, charge-filled bundle of seconds, I return his stare. Recognition flares in his eyes and I quickly look away, my cheeks heating, and I’m thankful the lighting is dim so he can’t tell. He thinks nothing of me, I’m sure. I’m barely a blip on his radar, and that’s just the way I like it. I don’t want his attention.
His type of attention . . . scares me.
Glancing across the table, I wave my hand in front of Zachary’s face but he doesn’t see me. I hiss out h
is name, earning a hard glare from him before he turns away.
A sigh wants to escape and I stifle it, chancing a glance in Ryder’s direction again to find him still watching me. And he doesn’t look away, either. His smile softens and he leans back in his chair. He positively reeks of a man who knows just how to please a woman—a man who has no qualms about flirting with one woman while sitting at a table with another.
I remind myself that I can’t stand him. I hate his cocky behavior. His confidence is galling and Zachary can’t stand him. I should be disgusted that he’s looking at me in such a blatant manner, but . . . I’m morbidly fascinated.
What’s it like to think that way? To feel that way? Pilar seems absolutely thrilled to be with him, which only confirms that something is going on between those two. And I wouldn’t doubt he’d try and touch her in some inappropriate manner if he hasn’t done so already. She probably wouldn’t protest, either. She’s an eager climber who has no problems stepping on people to get what she wants, both professionally and socially.
They look like they’re enjoying their evening, though. Whereas I’m tense and upset at Zachary’s seeming rejection they’re laughing and carrying on as if they have zero worries. Funny, I can’t help but think how lucky Pilar is. To be lost in the pleasure of Ryder’s wicked company while I’m lost to my own turbulent emotions at the thought of Zachary leaving me.
Of being alone. Again.
Tearing my gaze away from Ryder McKay, I focus on Zachary, who’s off his cell phone and watching me with an expectant expression on his face. “Now, where were we?” he asks, looking genuinely confused. How could he forget that he’d just delivered such life-altering news?
“You were telling me about your possible new promotion.” I hold in a breath, count to three, and then let it out in a soft exhale. “I’m happy for you,” I finally say, forcing myself to smile. But it doesn’t feel genuine. My lips tremble at the corners and I let the smile fall away. “Congratulations, Zachary.”
“I knew you’d understand. You always understand. Every- thing.” He reaches across the table and grasps my hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “If I get the position, I don’t see myself staying in London beyond two years. We can make it work, can’t we, darling?”
“Of course we can,” I whisper. But I’m not sure. Two years with Zachary in another country, meeting numerous women? Most likely bedding numerous women?
For all I know, this could be the beginning of the end.
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Monica Murphy is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the One Week Girlfriend series. She writes new adult and contemporary romance for Bantam and Avon. She also writes romance as USA Today bestselling author Karen Erickson. A native Californian, she lives in the foothills below Yosemite.
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Five Days Until You
Copyright 2015 by Monica Murphy
Cover art: Sarah Hansen at www.okaycreations.com
This ebook is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
Published in the United States of America
First electronic publication: April 2015 by Monica Murphy.
www.monicamurphyauthor.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Books by Monica Murphy
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Christmas Short Story
Fair Game
Owning Violet
About the Author
Copyright Notice
Monica Murphy, Five Days Until You
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