Page 8 of Paradise in Progress
Somewhere, the sun drifted from the warm winter light and cascaded the city in darkness. Lights from neighboring buildings highlight the city that never sleeps. The small lamp on my cubicle is the only light illuminating my workspace. It’s Friday evening and my co-workers started leaving when the clock struck four-thirty, staggering out until I was the last one left at six o’clock.
That was an hour ago.
Tonight, as I sit here in this empty, quiet office, I can’t help but realize this is it. After all these years, I still find it hard to believe that New York is home. There was a time when I thought my dreams wouldn’t come true. No matter how much I studied and how manypractice tests I took, life might not have allowed the chance to see everything I worked so hard for to come to fruition.
“Burning the midnight oil?”Hisvoice causes me to jump. I guess I’m not alone here, after all. Has Tristian been here the whole time?
Spinning around to face him, I immediately regret the decision. Sometime during the day, Tristan shed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The cream color perfectly contrasts with his tan skin. Even in the dead of New York’s winter, Tristan Nelson looks like a bronzed god who just stepped foot off the plane from paradise. Why have I never noticed how strong his forearms are? Ugh, why am I checking him out? Snapping my face up to meet his as he leans against the wall of my cubicle, I recognize his famous smirk. It’s like he has a glimpse inside my head.
“Someone has to set the bar around here.” Crossing my arms across my chest, I watch his eyes follow my movement. A small smile toys at the end of my lips as I lean back in my seat.
“And you think that someone should be you?”
Eyeing him up and down, I fight to show how much his standing here affects me. “Why not? Not all of us can rely on their title and daddy’s money to get them everything in life.”
“Ouch,” he mocks. “You know he pays your paychecks, right?”
“I don’t have an issue with him.”
Pointing a finger toward himself, he retorts, “So you have a problem with me. What, are you gunning for my job?”
“You know damn well I want the seat you're sitting in.”
“Please.” He rolls his eyes. “You know I set the bar and you’re always under it.”
I scoff. “I’m the one pushing it higher.”
He glances around my space, as if he’s looking for something, before his eyes lock back on me. “I don’t seeDirectornext to your name anywhere. You’ll never get anywhere if you keep doodling like you're still in elementary school.”
I follow the path to where he’s staring at my sketchbook and colored pencils. Quickly, I slam the cover shut on my sketchbook, not wanting to show him any of my cards right now. Closing the top on the colored pencil box, I rip open my desk drawer and place my sketchbook and pencils into my bag. I’ve had enough of this. I’m exhausted and don’t have the energy to sit here and take his insults anymore.
Grabbing my things, I stand to leave but stop in front of him. Making myself level with him to make sure he hears me clearly. “Keep my seat warm, Tristan.”
I shove past him, but he’s immediately on my heels
“C’mon, Firecracker.”
“No, Tristan,” I spit out, jamming my finger into the elevator call button before whipping around to face him to say more. But my chest brushes against his and we both suck in a breath at our proximity. Staring up into his eyes, I can’t find the words I wanted to say just seconds ago. His eyes bore into mine and darken at the same time he takes a deep swallow. I track the movement, unable to control the tension swirling around us.
When the elevator chimes behind me, I force myself away from him, keeping my eyes on his for one more blink before averting my gaze to hit the button to close the door. My hand darts out to stop the door, because this isn’t another thing Tristian is going to win.
“Like I said, keep my seat warm, Golden Boy.”
With that, I press the button again to close the door, leaving him on the other side.
Chapter four
Tristan
It’s been a weeksince Kennedy and I were alone on this same floor. She’s been constantly in my thoughts ever since. Watching her get on that elevator nearly destroyed me. I fought with every ounce of my willpower to keep my feet grounded and not race down the stairs to finally claim her lips with mine.
But I couldn’t do that.
She hates me, and I don’t blame her. Admittedly, for the most part, I mess with her because it gives me a chance to get a few minutes of her time. It’s not something I’ll say to her face, but her design will win. I have no doubt that whatever she presents to the team will be exactly what they are looking for because she knows her stuff. She’s a damn hard worker too. There hasn’t been a night this week that she hasn’t been the last one left on the floor. I’ve done my best to avoid her, but my conscience wouldn’t allow me to leave her here alone in this building. I know it’s safe, but my protectiveness flared.
A knock sounds on my door, pulling my attention to my sister standing there. “What can I do for you, little sis?”
Her nose scrunches and she groans. “What have I told you about callingme that?”
