“The bottom line is that is a shitload of responsibility with few, if any, perks. More work, more time—plus the legalities, the chance of being sued, and the question of where you owe your responsibilities. Your loyalty. It’s simply not worth it unless it is a company you are completely one hundred percent behind. Even then, it’s a gamble. Who wants the headache of a bickering board? The egos and whims that do nothing but waste your time? I can’t imagine you being patient enough to put up with that, frankly. You’d tell them to fuck off pretty fast.”
For a moment, he said nothing. I saw his lips quirk and he nodded. “Very…eloquent, Grace. All valid points.”
I felt my cheeks flush.
He indicated the door. “You can go. Good job.”
As I got to the door, he asked me to close it. I swore I heard him laughing as I got to my desk.
I decided to take that as a win.
I was so busy, I never had a chance to use the allotted time to study that the firm allowed. It was an awesome perk, but I was already learning so much. Jaxson was a great teacher. But I knew I had to study. Friday afternoon, he was out at a meeting I wasn’t a part of, and Michael was packing up to head home early since Abby had a doctor’s appointment for her vaccinations.
“Larry goes to pieces. I think he cries harder than she does,” he told me. “I have to go be there and hold the two of them up.”
He paused at the door. “Jaxson won’t be back. These meetings go all afternoon. You should head home too.”
“I thought I might study.”
“Oh, good plan. You have your pass. The door locks at six, so make sure you have it with you if you leave the room.”
“I will.”
After he left, I headed to the library and began to study. It was a comfortable room, with some tables and chairs and plenty of light. I set up my laptop and began. Facts, cases, and figures filled my head. I wrote out key notes, filling page after page on my tablet my dad had given me. It was the best gift he’d ever gotten me. I found writing something out helped me remember things better, and this tablet let me do that, then saved the document in both my written form and a typed format to refer back to. It let me copy images as well. I loved it.
It was the sound of a throat clearing that stopped my endeavors. I looked up to see Mr. Richards standing in front of the table I was working at.
“Ms. VanRyan, what are you doing?”
“Studying.”
“It’s nine p.m. on a Friday night.”
I blinked. It was nine o’clock? The time had flown by. I looked at the books I had spread out around me. The page count on my tablet. I had been busy.
He frowned. “Have you not used your allotted study time?”
“Um, no.”
His frown deepened. “I don’t expect you to work all evening to get your studying done. You have the time. Use it.”
“I was just so busy this week. And the work is fascinating. I’m learning so much—”
He cut me off. “Regardless. The time is to be used for studying. No arguments. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you pack up and head home?”
“Yes, I will.”
“I assume you have a parking spot underground? It’s late and beginning to rain.”
“Oh no, I take the bus. I don’t drive.”
At his shocked expression, I tried to explain. “I mean, I can drive. I know how, but I don’t here in Toronto. It’s so crazy with traffic. I take the bus or the streetcar.”
“What about the subway?”
I suppressed a shiver simply thinking about that. “No. I don’t like the subway.”
His gaze pierced through me as if trying to decide if he should question my remark or not. “Fine, Ms. VanRyan. Pack up your things, and I’ll drive you home.”
“Oh no, it’s fine. I’m used to the bus.”
“It’s late and raining. I will drive you home.” His tone brooked no argument. He leaned over the chair, snapping shut the books. “You’ve worked hard enough. Get your purse and coat. I’ll wait at the elevator.”
“No!” I exclaimed, standing so fast my chair toppled. “Really, it’s no bother. I’ll take a cab.”
“I will drive you,” he said through clenched teeth. “You will be perfectly safe.”
“I know that. It’s that, ah, I need a few moments, and I don’t want to keep you waiting.”
He looked perplexed. “I’ll wait in the car in the garage and catch up on a few emails, then. How about that?”
I relaxed. “All right. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
He left, and I quickly put away the books and grabbed my coat and purse in the office. I ran down the stairs, spotting his car easily since it was the only one left in the private garage. Sleek and sexy, the black Audi was purring. Jaxson sat behind the wheel, his eyes on his phone as I approached, and I tapped the window before getting in.
He frowned as I buckled up the seat belt. “I didn’t see you come from the elevator.”
“Oh, I took the stairs. After sitting all day, I needed to stretch my legs.”
I felt his sidelong glance, but I didn’t add anything, and luckily, he let it go. “Where to?” he asked lightly.
“Jamison Street.”
“Off St. Clair?”
“Yes.”
“My old stomping grounds,” he mumbled.
“Really?”
“I lived on Coventry.”
“Oh yes. That’s only a couple of streets away.”
We were quiet for a moment, and I enjoyed the warmth of the car. The leather seats were plush, and the music playing low in the background soothing. And the car smelled like Jaxson. Warm, rich, and distinctive. I liked how he smelled.
Then my stomach grumbled. Loudly.
Jaxson glanced over.
“Sorry,” I muttered, embarrassed.
“You didn’t eat dinner, did you?”
“I was busy.”
“I doubt the apple and wedge of cheese you nibbled at lunch helped either.”
I turned my head, gaping. How did he know what I ate for lunch?
Before I could ask, he was turning the corner a few blocks from my apartment.
“Do you know Rocking Ramen?”
“I’ve walked past it.”
“You like soup? Noodles?”
“Yes.”
He pulled up beside the small building. “Good. It was, and still is, one of my favorites.” He shut off the engine, unbuckling his seat belt.
“What are you doing?”
“Feeding you.”
“That isn’t necessary! I’ll eat when I get home.”
“Nope. We’re eating now.”
“Is that wise?”
He looked at me and lifted his eyebrows. “We’re getting a bowl of soup, Grace. I’m not suggesting a romp on the table.”
My cheeks flushed at his words, and a small part of me pouted. I’d bet that a romp on the table would be far more satisfying. I shook my head. “Now I’m Grace?”
“We can’t share a meal and be formal. Besides, you earned it. Now, get out of the car. I’m starving.”
With that, he climbed out and shut the door. I had no choice except to follow.