THE ASSISTANT

EMILY

Day Ten

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My lips were still swollen from the way Nicholas kissed me on the boat yesterday. I was hoping he would finally give in to my not-so-subtle walks to the bathroom in the middle of the night, but all he’d done was playfully slap my ass on my return trip to the bed. And laugh.

Tonight, unfortunately, was the start of “true business.” We were currently sitting across from his mother, his brother, and Brenton, as our guest of honor—Mr. Watson—told the most boring story I’d ever heard.

He arrived in Blue Harbor yesterday, and he’d instantly taken control of this trip. He took Nicholas golfing in the morning (“I can tell a lot about a businessman by the way he golfs”), treated me and Liz to a private brunch (“I want to talk to the two women who know the man behind the deal”), and insisted on a tour of Blue Harbor via boat because he “just wanted to see if Nicholas was a true sailor.” (He was.)

“So, then I turned to my CFO and said, I don’t think so!” Mr. Watson ran his hand through his graying hair. “That’s my family day!”

Brenton let out a forced laugh, and the rest of us just stared at him—unsure if that was the end of his never-ending story or the unfortunate prologue for another.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, standing up from his chair. “Is there a place I can smoke my cigar before dessert?”

“Me, too.” Brenton stood as well.

“I’ll show you two to the landing,” Liz said, lifting Samantha from her chair. She walked by me and lowered her voice. “Do you mind if Luna sleeps with Samantha tonight? She wanted me to ask you.”

“I don’t mind.” I smiled.

“I’ll be right back, and we’ll get to dessert then.”

She led the men far down the hall, and Nathan cursed under his breath.

“So, is this the part where we’re supposed to continue serving as your props for this Watson dude?” Nathan tossed his napkin onto the table. “You never answered my emails about this trip, Nicholas.”

“And I don’t ever plan to.”

“Then I guess I was right.” He stood up from the table. “Our father would be ashamed of you right now, just so you know. He’s probably rolling around in his grave, beyond disappointed in what you’ve become.”

“What exactly have I become?”

“Another fucking suit.” He looked at me. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll pass on playing the role of the loving big brother tonight. I suggest you do the same, Emily. I’m sure he dragged you into this bullshit pretend-show somehow.” He left the house and slammed the door on his way out.

Nicholas clenched his jaw and squeezed my hand under the table.

“Do you need to get some air?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. He remained still, squeezing my hand every few seconds, cursing in between.

By the time Brenton, Liz, and Watson returned to the table, he’d snapped back into business mode.

“What day do you want to look over the final paperwork again, Mr. Watson?” He didn’t even bother asking Liz and me to step away while they discussed things. “I won’t be in Blue Harbor too much longer, and I’d like to spend more time with my fiancée.”

“Of course, of course,” he said. “Well, I really haven’t had that much time to look over all the paperwork.”

“You’ve had over six months ...” Nicholas and I muttered softly, in unison.

Brenton shot us both a look from across the table.

“Well, I guess I could take the next five or six days to look at them. I’ll just need you to come golfing with me a few more times so I can make sure I’m making the right decision.”

Nicholas refrained from rolling his eyes. “Whatever you like, Mr. Watson.”

“Oh! Well, one thing I would like is a story from you.”

“A story?”

“Yes. The story of how you and the lovely Miss Emily fell in love.” He crossed his arms. “That says a lot about a man as well.”

“It was love at first sight,” Nicholas said. “The end.”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“Give me one second.” He looked at me and lifted the glass of wine from my hands, handing me a glass of water. He lowered his voice. “Is this your third or your fourth one?”

“Fifth.”

He glanced at his watch, and then he cleared his throat. “I fell in love with Emily when ...”

When we were working in Paris on a new project ... Stick to the script. Stick to the script.

“It was one weekend in particular when it started,” he said. “It was a Friday night, and we were working late during a snowstorm. It must’ve been one o’clock in the morning by the time we realized it. Since there was a winter weather advisory for like three days, I told her she was welcome to take my bedroom in my penthouse, and I would sleep in my living room.

I turned to face him as he spoke. This wasn’t the story that Brenton made us rehearse at all. This was something that had actually happened between us. Something that was pretty damn recent.

“She um—” He paused, smiling. “She insisted that she stay in the living room with me because she’d heard about my past reputation. So, we spent the entire night talking about absolutely nothing in front of my fireplace, while watching the snow fall over New York.”

In the morning, you made me breakfast ...

“In the morning, I made her breakfast, and we spent the second day locked inside. But later that day, we did sit on my balcony.”

“In the middle of a snowstorm?” Mr. Watson asked. “Why?”

“It was her idea,” he said. “After I gave her a tour, she told me that she couldn’t believe I hardly ever used my balcony. Then she said—”

How many people can say they’ve had hot coffee on top of New York in the middle of a snowstorm? You have to do it with me ...

“How many people can say they’ve had hot coffee on top of New York in the middle a snowstorm?” He remembered my words verbatim. “I couldn’t let her do that alone, so we had about four cups together on the balcony.”

“And you knew right then you loved her?”

“No, I knew I loved her on the third day,” he said. “When she still refused to take my bed, and told me that she wasn’t going to do any more work until the storm was over ... But an hour later, we were side by side in my kitchen—working silently, as if it was any other weekend.”

“A fellow workaholic?” He smiled. “So, it was the fact that she worked just like you during the storm, and had such a great work ethic that sealed the deal for you?”

“No,” Nicholas said. “It was the fact that I didn’t take one phone call or answer a single text message the entire weekend she was with me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone else. She was all I needed.”

I sat still in complete and utter shock. I wasn’t sure if he took the truth and twisted it to fit our fake narrative, or if he’d felt something that weekend, like I did, and simply repressed it because it was inappropriate.

“Well, that’s a lovely story, son!” Liz clapped, while Watson nodded in agreement. “So sweet!”

“Um. Wow ...” Brenton leaned back in his chair and blinked, looking just as stunned and speechless as I was. “I think I need another drink. ASAP.”

“Let’s have one with another smoke,” Watson suggested, standing. “I think I’ll retire for the night after this one, though. I’ll see you all at breakfast. Thank you for a wonderful dinner, Liz.”

“My pleasure.” She smiled, then looked at us. “I’ll see you two in the morning.”

Nicholas briefly let go of my hand and helped me out of my chair without saying a word. He slipped his hand around my waist and walked me back to our room.

The second he shut the door, I stared at him—waiting for an explanation about what he’d said at dinner.

He didn’t give one, though. He just pulled me against him and pressed his lips against mine, kissing the shit out of me. But when I opened my mouth and begged him to take the kiss further, he let out a soft laugh.

Then he gently pushed me away and walked me over to the bed. “For the record, if you weren’t tipsy and thirty minutes away from a headache, I would be fucking you against my wall right now.”

“If I told you I was wet, would you change your mind?”

“No.” He kissed the back of my neck and lifted me onto the mattress. “You’ll be sleeping within an hour, since you’re the definition of a lightweight. When did you drink the other glasses?”

“Right before you and Watson came back for dinner.

“I figured.” He pulled the sheets over me.

“You should really join me right now.”

“I really shouldn’t.”

“Are you scared I’ll finally tempt you to fuck me?”

“I’ve been tempted to fuck you since the day we met. So, when I do finally fuck you, I would prefer if you had all your energy.” He kissed me and hit the lights. “You’re going to need it.”