Chapter 7 Rachel

I found myself lost in a daydream as I stared out at the buildings that surrounded the one was in. My headquarters consisted of the top three stories of the high-rise in Manhattan. It was prime real estate.

Looking around me, I could assure myself I had reached the top, literally and figuratively. The lease was stupid expensive, but my dad, my business manager, and the rest of my team convinced me I needed these offices. The building security was nice.

"Did you hear me?" Penelope asked.

"What?" I asked.

"You've got a meeting in fifteen minutes," she said. "I've sent the notes and reports to you. I've also printed them out. You've got a lunch with the head of accounting. And then you have a meeting with the cosmetic press team. I managed to slip in the owner of that paper company you had the teleconference with a few weeks ago. The Australia team also wants to connect with you at some point today."

I sighed and nodded. "Got it. Thanks."

"I'll go get you another coffee," she said. "You look tired. Are you okay? Jet-lagged?"

"I'm fine," I told her. "It's just a lot to take in. Are there any vacations in my schedule?"

She looked horrified. "What? No? Was I supposed to schedule one?"

"No, but I think I'm tired," I said. "I've been running for two years. I think I might need some downtime."

Again, the poor girl looked like she was going to faint. "I've got your schedule for the next three months."

"Keep it loose," I told her. "Just in case."

Her expression relaxed a bit, but I could see she was still anxious. Then again, she was always anxious. "I'll go get the coffee."

"Get yourself a decaf," I said.

She didn't hear me. She already had two phones, each pressed to an ear as she rushed out of my office. Penelope was an amazing assistant. Very energetic and always on the go.

She never missed a beat. I could count on her being very thorough and on top of everything.

She was the only person I knew that could manage three phones without totally losing her mind. I felt a little guilty for potentially disrupting the schedule she put together.

I turned my chair around to sit at the desk properly. This was my life. One meeting after another. Every meeting was necessary. I had a lot of balls in the air, and it took a lot of work to keep everything running smoothly. Despite all the work staring me in the face, I didn't want to think about that. I wanted to think about Oliver. My hero. The handsome man in the Porsche with a sexy smile and a clever wit.

He told me his name, but damn if I could remember his last name. It wasn't like I could call him even if I did have his full name and or phone number. I was swearing off men. I needed to be single. Brock was a lesson I needed to let sink in. He'd wooed me with his pretty eyes and even prettier words. I was blinded by his fame. And admittedly his good looks. That had not worked out well. He was the first guy I let myself get caught up with, and it blew up in my face.

The press would crucify me if I started dating a week after breaking up with Brock. But damn if Oliver wasn't sexy as hell. There was something about him that gave me butterflies in my belly. There'd been a rush of excitement and desire. It could have just been the moment and all the adrenaline rushing through my system. I was in a pretty wild situation. It wasn't like I did a lot of exciting things. My body wasn't used to adrenaline. It intoxicated me.

"No," I said with a shake of my head. "It was real."

There had been something between us. Whether it was chemistry or a spark, whatever the correct term was. It was there. It was different than what I felt when I first saw Brock.

Totally different. Maybe it was the hero worship thing. He'd saved me, and now I put him on a pedestal. I let that idea digest for a minute before shrugging it off. That wasn't it. I wasn't prone to antics like that. The connection I felt was more like a cosmic thing. Like the universe was sending me a signal that this guy was a keeper.

"Do you want a bagel?" Penelope asked.

"Did you already get me coffee?"

"I ordered it before I came in the first time," she answered.

"You already got me a bagel too, didn't you?" I asked with a smile.

"You've been talking about bagels the whole time we've been gone," she said.

"You're too good to me, Penelope."

"I'll be back in a minute," she said. "Did you read through the report?"

"Penelope, you've been gone two minutes," I reminded her. "I'm not as fast as you are. I tend to hover around medium speed."

"Right." She nodded once. "Of course. I'll get your bagel."

Once again, she was gone. I was nothing but professional and prepared for every business meeting I took. Being young put me at a disadvantage in some ways. Being young with the wrong last name and no fancy degree to flash made people question my talent. It was an antiquated way of thinking, but it was the way of the world. The way to combat the naysayers was to always be prepared and always dress the part.

I scanned the report. Most of it I already knew because I did pay attention to everything. My dad always said I was a sponge. I wasn't the smartest person in the class, but I could learn. It did take a little more studying every night, but it was worth it. Not the money, but the respect. The money was nice too.

"Three minutes and they're running late," Penelope said as she rushed back into my office with a little brown bag. "I had them give you that flavored cream cheese you like. I'll be at my desk if you need me."

Just like that, she was gone again. I shook my head and opened the bag. "Yes," I whispered. "I've missed you so," I told the bagel.

I took my first bite and closed my eyes to appreciate the taste. I was deep into my enjoyment when I heard my phone ring. I groaned and considered ignoring it, but it could be my dad. I grabbed a napkin and my phone. I didn't recognize the number. This was my personal line. Very few people had the number. But I had learned a few months ago just how tenacious journalists could be.

"Hello," I answered in a voice that was just a little bitchy.

"Uh, hello, is this Rachel?" a man asked.

"Who's asking?" I snapped as I reverted back to my days of being just Rachel from the block.

"This is Oliver," he said. "We met on Saturday. I was the guy in the Porsche. I took you home."

I was smiling as he talked. I waited to see if he would say anything more.

"You, um, you wrote your number on my hand. I'm sorry. I guess I thought you might remember me."

"Oliver, I remember you," I said with a laugh. "I don't always jump into random cars with strange men. I knew who you were when you said your name."

"Oh, so you were toying with me," he laughed.

"Maybe a little. I'm surprised you called so soon."

"Did you expect me to wait for a week, a month? You tell me."

"No, no," I said and realized I came off a little strong. "I'm glad you called. I wasn't sure

you would."

"I did. I mean, I am. I'm not cashing in on my favor."

"You're not?"

"Nope," he said. "I'm saving that. I was wondering if you'd like to get a drink tonight." My first instinct was to say yes. Then I remembered who I was. "Oliver, do you know who I am?"

"Yes. You're the woman that jumped in my car. The same woman I found myself incredibly drawn to."

I got those same warm fuzzies just hearing him say that. "I meant, you saw what happened when I tried to go home. I'm kind of a huge target right now. People want to take me down. They hate me, and they are intent on making my life hell. I can't really go out in public. It's like stepping into a lion's den. I have to have security just to get to work."

"I suspected that could be an issue, but I don't mind. They can't follow us onto private property. If you want to go out to a nice restaurant, I will make it happen." I sighed. He would never understand what it was like. "They'll look through the windows.

Camera flashes will blind you. It's impossible to eat or drink when you're being harassed. It's not a good time."

"Okay, I get that," he said. "That's why I already made other arrangements."

"You did?"

"I did. Should I pick you up?"

"I have meetings all day," I told him. "Can I meet you at this other place?"

"I'll text you the address," he said. "I promise you there won't be any paparazzi." "They are like flies on a carcass," I muttered. "You think you've gotten away from them, and the moment you think it's safe to pull out your sandwich, they show up. Maggots. They are never far away. Not to mention every human on the planet has a cell phone and turns into a paparazzo. It's why I hate social media. Even the most innocent acts turn into a disaster. Someone sees me, snaps a pic, and posts it to social media, and just like a stinky carcass, the flies come running."

"Damn," he said. "You make your life sound terrible."

"It isn't terrible, but there are moments I wish I was invisible. I miss being able to go shopping or grab my own coffee without people staring and pointing. I blame Brock. I was really no one until I met him."

"I get it," he said. "Just show up, let's say seven? I'll make sure no one takes your picture."

"I would really appreciate that. Thank you for being so thoughtful."

"You're welcome," he said. "I'll see you tonight."

I ended the call and found myself smiling. I had a date. A date with a really hot dude that wasn't afraid to take me out. The text came through, and because I was very curious about this secret place he was taking me to, I googled it. It was an apartment building. Of course it was. Now I was supposed to go against another hard-and-fast rule. Was I really brave enough to go to a man's apartment? A man that I didn't really know.

"Too late," I told myself.

I'd already agreed to go. I couldn't back out now. It was about time I got to live on the edge. Ever since I won the lottery, I'd been playing it safe. Dad had given me a very good,

long lecture about being responsible. I wasn't going to let him down. The money was a gift,

and I didn't want to squander it.

"It's time," Penelope said as she rushed into my office. "Conference room now."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I muttered. "It's not like they can start without me"