The Hooker and the Hermit
Page 65

“I almost did, but you know what? I’m learning to deal with it,” I murmured in devotion. “There are always going to be paps, Annie, and there are always going to be journalists to write lies about me, about us; but I’m realizing it doesn’t matter. None of it does. See? I’m maturing.”
She hiccuped a little laugh.
I continued, “All that matters is that I have you. The rest is background noise. It’s not worth breaking a nail over, never mind losing my temper. And if it means we get to be together, I’ll take it all with a smile on my face because you and me, darling, we’re the real deal. You are worth fighting for. I’m not letting you go now, not for all the tea in China.”
Annie smiled and let out a nervous chuckle as I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth. “That’s a lot of tea.”
“Fuck yeah, it is.” I laughed and kissed her properly, my tongue sliding against hers, tasting and exploring every inch of her soft, perfect mouth. Only this morning I thought I’d never get to do this again, never be able to drink her in and feel my heart getting bigger and bigger with all the love I felt for this beautiful woman that I wanted to possess until I was old and gray.
She clutched at my shirt as my hands traveled down her spine, reaching under to cup her arse. She gasped into my mouth as we fit against each other, and I pulled her closer to me, cursing the gear stick that separated us. I was mentally trying to figure out how to get her under me when somebody rapped loudly on the window. We broke apart, chests heaving, the sounds of our labored breaths filling the space as I turned to see a stern New York cop glaring down at me. I rolled down my window and was told we were parked in a handicapped spot and needed to move, pronto.
Annie groaned a little, fixing her top back in place, as I pulled the car back out onto the road. When we reached Davidson & Croft, I drove up to the entrance and let her out to deal with Joan while I went in search of somewhere to leave my car. I allowed myself a moment to soak in the sight of her arse as she walked off and was on cloud nine when she turned twice, smiling over her shoulder at me, looking braver each time.
Once she was safely inside, I drove away.
I couldn’t believe I had this woman. This woman who seemed designed by some divine power specifically to be mine, and I was designed to be hers. One thing was for certain—as soon as she was done talking to her boss, we were going back to my place, and we wouldn’t be leaving for a long, long time.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Shameless Snap: When all else fails, lift your phone, focus the camera, and just take the fucking picture.
Best for: Situations where being stealthy is not possible or necessary.
Do not use: If the subject of your photo is prone to violence, or has diplomatic immunity (or both).
*Annie*
“I don’t know how else to say this other than…I resign.”
Joan blinked at me three times very slowly over steepled fingers and with a blank expression.
“I see….” she said.
I fiddled with the envelope and then placed it on her desk. We stared at each other for a long moment, her expression giving away nothing of her thoughts. She didn’t take the envelope.
I was just about to explain myself when she continued, “Yes. I see. It’s for the best. I was going to have to fire you. Dara Evans has already called about that article you wrote on St. Patrick’s Day as well as your little coming-out article this morning. She wants to sue us. Your resigning makes sense for the company.”
I nodded, firming my lips. I was a disappointed. I think part of me hoped Joan wouldn’t let me resign. I liked my job most of the time, especially when I was working with public figures who deserved the good reputation and ideal image I helped them achieve.
But I was also relieved.
Helping people like Dara Evans had always felt like trying to put a shine on poop.
“Thank you for everything, Joan.”
I gave her a half smile, and her eyebrows lifted a notch, betraying a hint of surprise.
“Are you referring to when you lost your shit, or are you referring to all my excellent professional mentorship over the last year?”
“All of it. Thank you. You’re a…you’re a good friend.”
“No, I’m not, but it’s cute that you think so.” She leaned forward suddenly and snatched the letter off the desk, held it lightly in her right hand. “Of course, I’m not going to let you off so easily. You have accounts of key clients still in your queue. I expect you to stay on in a consulting position for an indefinite period of time.”
I blinked my surprise. “You want me—you want me to—you—”
“We’ll pay you your hourly rate as a contractor. Rachel will send you the details tomorrow. Also, it would be best if you and Mr. Fitzpatrick got married at some point, had a few beautiful children that played rugby. Everyone loves a DILF.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. It was shocked, quiet and soft at first, but then it erupted into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. Joan’s expression did change then. She looked both dismayed and diverted.
“Oh, my lord. What is that sound you are making? Is that…a laugh?”
I shook my head, then nodded, and then shook my head again, holding up one hand as I clutched my belly with the other.
Joan glanced at me askance. “For the love of God, don’t ever laugh in public. No one will forgive you for it. You’ll be ridiculed, Ronan will go on an assault spree, and then Ian will have a mental breakdown trying to clean up the mess.”
***
Gerta cried when I told her the news but then stopped crying when I told her I would be staying on as a consultant. I was surprised by the force of her reaction and found myself comforting her with an awkward one-armed embrace. She laughed at my lack of ability to comfort and pulled me into a full hug.
“Oh, Annie….” she sighed; I felt her shake her head against my shoulder. “Now we can be friends outside of work, too.”
I was speechless. Friends. I was going to have friends. Ronan’s mother Jackie, his sister Lucy, the wives and girlfriends of his teammates…these would be my friends. Being with Ronan would mean an instant circle of friends.
And then it hit me that all my online friends, the ones I’d made as The Socialmedialite, might now become actual, in-real-life friends. This thought felt a little overwhelming and a lot exciting. Being with me might mean an instant circle of new friendships for Ronan as well. Maybe WriteALoveSong and I would meet for lunch, or go to the movies, or hang out like real people.
Maybe he and Ronan would become good friends, too, especially after I explained that WriteALoveSong—whose real name was Broderick—had helped me understand that I needed to go public with both my feelings for Ronan and my identity as The Socialmedialite. Broderick’s idea had been tamer, less risky than what I ultimately decided, but his original suggestion made me recognize that I needed to take a risk and now was the time.
Gerta left to find me some boxes, and Ronan appeared a moment later, bursting into my office with restless energy and a stern expression. Even so, my smile was immediate.
“Ronan.” I beamed, crossing to him.
“You quit? You quit your job? Why? Did Joan make you? Because if she did, I swear to God I’m going to—”
“No, wait. Listen—it’s not like that.” I reached for his hands, needing to touch him. Our reunion this morning had been too short, and I was low on sleep. I needed the feel of him to prove that I wasn’t dreaming while awake.
“Then what’s it like? Because that fuckface Ian Shitforbrains stopped me in the hall and told me you were in Joan’s office and you quit. You are fucking awesome at your job, Annie; and if they can’t see that, then they’re all wankers, the lot of them.”
My smile widened as I rushed to explain, “It was my decision. I quit on my own, with no pressure from Joan. In fact, she wants me to stay on as a consultant.”
His eyes narrowed. “She’s not pushing you into staying on, is she?”
“No.” Rather than laugh at his expression of suspicion, I pressed my lips together and added, “It’ll be the best of both worlds. As a consultant, I’ll be able to pick and choose which clients I work with. It’ll be great. I’m very pleased.”
“Hmm….” He surveyed me, searching for sincerity. Obviously finding it, his expression cleared. “Okay. Good. I guess this also means more working from home?”
“Yes. I’ll be working from home all the time now. No more office visits.” I glanced around my office and realized with a little pang that I was actually going to miss the three walls and window view. My days here, even though they were sparse, were the only times I had to leave my apartment. Now I would have nothing to force me from my home other than my own will.
I felt the weight of Ronan’s stare and turned my attention back to him. He was watching me with a heated and focused longing that nearly stole my breath. Searching my gaze, his own growing almost devilish, he lifted his hand to my cheek, his fingers wrapping around my neck, and tugged me closer.
“It’s a shame that we never christened this office….” he whispered against my mouth.
“Christened?”