Work For It (Naiad Novels Book 1)

There’s no way I can wait until after work to get more answers out of Daniel. And if he tells me something now that I don’t want to hear, I can still back out of dinner.

“So,” I prompt as we continue our trek. He’s taken up station by my side, blocking me from the cars that breeze by. “Who was—”

“Do you want to know what kept me so busy last month?” he asks, cutting me off like he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

I almost stumble at the urgency in his tone. It is something I’m interested in. There are far more important topics to cover, but if this gets us talking again, I suppose it’s as good a place to start as any.

“What were you doing?” I ask, peeking over at him.

“I was negotiating a distribution deal for your physical books.”

This time I do stumble, leaving him to grip my elbow to keep me from falling to the sidewalk. I consider asking him to repeat himself, because there’s no way he’s finally doing the thing I’ve been practically begging him to do for the past couple of years.

“Are you serious?” I exhale instead, slowly turning toward him.

He shrugs as he guides me the final few feet to the Starbucks storefront. “You said that was what you wanted.”

He can’t be telling the truth. I stay quiet as he opens the door and ushers me inside to wait in the mobile order pickup section, searching his expression for any sign of deception. But as far as I can tell, he’s not lying.

“Did the analytics finally hit the threshold you were looking for?” I question, still suspicious of his motivations. If he’s doing this, it can’t solely be because it’s something I want. “Is the demand you’ve been looking for finally there? Is that what made you move ahead with it?”

“I did it because you asked for it,” he answers, as if it’s as simple as that. “I said I would give you whatever you wanted, didn’t I?”

The air escapes my lungs at that admission. He did promise it, but I never once thought it had to do with anything outside of my sexual desires. But he remembered. And he’s holding himself to that promise outside of the bedroom.

I think I might pass out.

“Don’t get too excited yet,” Daniel warns, but my heart and my head are already floating into the clouds. “The negotiations aren’t done, and I still haven’t decided on a distributor. It’s going to take at least a few more weeks to finalize things before we sign any contracts. But it’s all in the works.”

Forget passing out. I think I might puke up hearts and stars and rainbows all over his shoes. I swallow hard to keep it down. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I wanted it to be a surprise. I didn’t want you to worry about any part of it.”

“So you acted like a dick instead?” I comment dryly, still trying to figure out how to take in a proper breath. I refuse to let him know how much this means to me until he has properly groveled. “I shouldn’t have expected any different.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Maybe you do know me.”

I have to fight to keep from returning the smile. This man will not win me over so easily. “Doesn’t excuse your behavior, though.”

He blows out a breath. “I know,” he admits with a regretful grimace. “I’d just gotten out of a tense meeting with Jim when you came up to me. I spent hours trying to convince him to make this happen, and then you nearly saw everything I was working on. I’ll admit, I panicked a little. I was trying to get you to walk away before you figured out what I was doing, but I clearly shoved a little too hard. I’m sorry.”

I make a small sound of acknowledgment, not quite accepting his apology but recognizing it. “You didn’t answer my question about the sales. Did that play a role?”

“No. You didn’t come close to hitting the threshold Naiad was looking for. I’ll show you the numbers when we get back to the office. It’s why Jim and I nearly got into a fight before I finally got him to agree.”

Well, that’s a blow, because I’ve always considered myself to be a pretty successful writer. But if the sales weren’t good enough and he was willing to go to battle with Jim over this…

Jesus Christ, he really is giving me what I want.

“Isn’t that risky, though?” I push. “If the numbers don’t make the case for publishing, and someone higher up at the company asks why you did it, what are you—”

“Selene,” he interrupts gently, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. The asshole is practically laughing at me. “Whatever fallout there is, I’ll handle it. Just enjoy this.”

I scoff and roll my eyes, but I can’t ignore the way my stomach has twisted into knots—the good kind this time, though it’s still a sensation I don’t want to feel in regard to Daniel.

But this is something I’ve wanted for so, so long. I’ve been nagging him for ages, only to get the same canned response every time. Wait until sales of the e-books justify going through the trouble of producing physical copies. And, yeah, he’s probably breaking the news to me now to get back into my good graces, but it still feels like an incredible gift. He’s right. I should enjoy it. I’ve finally gotten my wish—though I’m torn between loving and hating the fact that Daniel is responsible for making it happen.

Before I can dwell on it, a barista calls my name from the pickup counter, where dozens of drinks await. We move up together, briefly arguing over who’s going to take what. I can’t help but admire how large his hands are, how he can rest an entire cardboard drink carrier in his palm and still manage to hang bags full of pastries from his thumb. I, on the other hand, am forced to press a single tray against my chest to keep it from falling.

“Give me those,” he insists, easily taking the drinks I’m cradling precariously in my arms. Somehow, when we exit, he’s carrying three-fourths of our order. It’s chivalrous, no doubt, but it’s yet another thing endearing me toward him.

Damn this man.

He even manages to open the door as we leave and nods for me to walk out first as he holds it. Another blow to my grudge against him. When we get back to the Naiad building, I make sure to cut in front of him to grab the door before he can, ignoring the pointed glance he shoots me when I do. But he doesn’t protest and even lets me hit the button in the elevator for our floor.

“Are we good now?” he asks as the doors close.

I take him in as I consider. Caution is key here because I don’t want to give him false hope. We have so much more to talk about.

“I’ll decide after dinner,” I finally say. “Should I meet you there?”

He shakes his head. “We’ll go over together.” Before I can ask how exactly he plans for us to do that, especially without getting caught by anyone we know, he continues, “Just stay late. Everyone will be gone by six-thirty.”

I’m still a little hesitant. Getting caught by a coworker would involve a lot of explaining. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

I don’t feel his confidence, but I nod, nonetheless. After what I’ve learned today, I’m intrigued to hear what he says tonight.

I’ve been counting down the hours.

Daniel and I sit at our table like this is a normal day for us both. I do my best to avoid staring at him, no matter how tempting it is, and he plays his part by keeping his head down and concentrating on his work. Seeing him so focused makes me want to do the same, like we’re competing to see who can get more done. That said, I try not to get too much done so that if anyone asks why I’m not leaving now that it’s six o’clock, I don’t have to lie when I say I’m not finished.

At six-fifteen, Jim finally waves goodbye to us. He teases us about not working too hard, and in response, we flash him tight smiles. We both know damn well that he expects each of us to perform at least three times a reasonable amount of work. If I didn’t love the creative aspect, I would have quit months ago.

I wait a beat after I hear the elevator doors shut, then peer over my screen and whisper, “Is everyone gone?”

He nods and closes his laptop. “Give it another minute, and we’ll head out.”

As Daniel stands and shrugs into his leather jacket, I put my computer in my bag and tug on my sweater. After a busy day of edits, I probably look a mess, so I mumble that I’ll be right back and slink off to the bathroom. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, I wince at my reflection. My hair is messy from being up in a bun earlier when I was neck deep in edits, and my eyeliner is a little smudged. I do my best to rectify the situation by dragging my fingers through the loose waves and swiping under my eyes.

But before I can go any further, I force myself to stop. Why am I bothering to put in any effort? I wouldn’t mind looking like this usually. It’s actually pretty standard for me after a long day of work. And I’m just having dinner with a guy I’m still not sure about. Honestly, I should be showing him my absolute worst to see what he does.

I push out of the bathroom and head back to where Daniel is waiting with my coat and bag in hand. When I try to take my coat from him, he shakes his head and motions for me to turn around. I huff, but I’m not in the mood to fight, so I follow instructions and slide my arms into the sleeves, letting him pull it up and over my shoulders. He’s careful not to let his hands linger, but his touch still sends electricity shooting through me.

Just like on our trip back from the coffee run, Daniel guides me with a gentle hand, holds doors, and keeps me shielded from people on the sidewalk. The farther we walk, the more apparent it is that this behavior is second nature for him. It pains me to admit, but I think Daniel might be a gentleman.

He’s proved that, outside of work, he (mostly) isn’t the worst person on the planet. He’s still on my shit list for what he pulled last month—and I still don’t know the story behind the girl Ella saw him with—but he’s slowly moving into my good graces.

Daniel gently grips my elbow as we descend the steps to the subway. I really don’t think there’s any risk of me falling, but I don’t shake him off. Secretly, I’m comforted by the security it provides.

He lets go when we swipe through the turnstiles, allowing me to go first and following close behind. The platform is crowded when we reach it, and I nearly jump when he grabs my hand to lead me through the crowd. He shoots me a glance over his shoulder like he’s asking me to trust him. So I take the risk and wrap my fingers around his in return.

We come to a stop toward the end of the southbound platform. Daniel drops my hand and deftly moves to keep me from becoming a victim of a group of rowdy tourists, but when I’m out of danger, he doesn’t take my hand again. Instead, he slips behind me and wraps an arm around my waist.

My heart races, and I pray he can’t feel my pulse. Because what exactly is going on right now? His chest presses to my back, and he splays his hand protectively over my stomach. The position is entirely too intimate for a public setting. Even though the platform is so crammed that I doubt anyone would give us a second glance, I can’t bring myself to relax into his embrace.

“Next train is in five minutes,” he says, his lips at my ear.

I’m close to freaking out, but he sounds perfectly calm. Like this is a normal Monday night for us. In another world, maybe it would be. In this one, though, I’m worried about getting caught.

I think about pulling away, but he speaks again before I can. “Relax,” he murmurs. “No one here knows us. Just talk to me.”

He’s right. Being in Midtown means we’re almost constantly surrounded by visitors to the city, and if the I Heart NYC shirt-wearing people around us are any indication, we’ll probably never see any of them again.

I clear my throat. If we have a few minutes to wait for the next train, we might as well talk. Hopefully that will ease my nerves.

“So.” I take a breath. “You don’t have a girlfriend.”

He tenses a little, like I’ve insulted him by continuing to insinuate that he may have cheated. “Obviously not.”

I press a little more. “No relationship in general?”

Daniel turns me in his arms, enough so that he can stare at me in a way that makes it very clear he would never stoop to that level. But I need more information.

“Ella said you looked pretty cozy with the girl you were out with,” I elaborate. I want him to understand where my concerns are coming from. “That she seemed into you.”

“Sounds like Ella’s imagination was running wild.”

“Daniel. Come on.”

He blows out a breath and squeezes me a little tighter, like maybe he’s afraid I might bolt when I hear what he’s about to say next.

“I’ve been on a couple of dates with that girl in the past,” he confesses.

I wince before I can remind myself that it shouldn’t matter to me.

“But it was never serious.” He’s quick to clarify, his tone firm. “She and I aren’t dating. We aren’t in a relationship. And I don’t have feelings for her.”

But do you have them for me? Is that why you’re doing all of this? I want to ask the questions, but I bite my tongue instead.

“I hadn’t talked to her since December,” he continues. “Then she invited me to a screening for a movie based on a book JotNote produced. I didn’t think it was a date, since I’d made it clear I wasn’t looking for a relationship the last time we went out, and she didn’t care for that. So when she texted me, I thought it was just a friendly invitation. Or a chance to rub JotNote’s success in my face.”

“But it wasn’t just friendly,” I prompt.

“Not for her.” He meets my eyes. “But there was nothing from my side. I hugged her goodbye at the end of the night and that was it.”

I nod, and relief trickles into the cracks of my heart, but that only makes it beat harder for him. “Okay.”

He squeezes my hip with one hand and grasps my chin with the other, forcing me to look at him. “I haven’t slept with anyone but you since the holiday party, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It is. No matter how many times I tell myself I shouldn’t care, I still do, even though I’m not allowed to care. “You can sleep with whoever you want, Daniel.” And I’ll go on continuing to avoid thoughts that involve his life outside of the time we spend together.

His brow raises, but his eyes remain steadily on me. “Are you fucking anyone else?”

“No, of course not,” I say quickly, then reconsider my answer. I don’t need him thinking it’s because I want some sort of commitment from him, so I add, “I don’t have time to even go out and look. But I just didn’t expect the same from you. It’s not like we’re—It’s not like we’re exclusive or anything. Like we said, this is casual. I just wanted to be sure you weren’t cheating on anyone.”

I clear my throat again, knowing I need to lighten this conversation before it gets too heavy. “Besides, aren’t women constantly throwing their panties at you?” I joke. “I can’t imagine you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to crawl into bed with someone else.”

“Opportunity, yes. Desire, no.”

Okay. Clearly my attempt at humor isn’t working, so I drop it. This time, my words are serious. “You’re really saying you’ve only had sex the few days a month I’m here?”

“It’s always worth the wait. You’re the only one I want.” He kisses my temple, lips lingering. I don’t even care that we’re in public. I think I want the attention. I want these people to know this man has somehow picked me and isn’t ashamed of it. “And like you, I have my fantasies in the meantime.”

“Don’t say things like that,” I murmur, dizzy from the impact of what he’s told me. “It might go to my head.”

I can feel his smile. He recognizes his own words thrown back at him. “Let it.”

I don’t think twice when I lean into him, savoring the way he holds me closer.

“How badly do you want dinner?” I ask him over the sound of the approaching train.

“Why?” he asks. The wind around us picks up, ruffling his hair.

Because I want to feel more of him, to reassure myself that this is real. “I’m just not that hungry.”

“You need to eat. It’s been a long day.”

He hasn’t gotten my hint, or if he has, he’s more concerned with my well-being than getting me into bed. Does that mean this man…cares about me?

Crazy idea. Not possible. Unbelievable.

The train pulls to a stop, and we wait as some of the current passengers disembark before we join the masses cramming themselves into the cars. Again, he and I are pressed to each other, my back to his chest. There’s not enough room for me to reach out for a handrail, but I’m not worried about falling.

Daniel’s got me.