2 - Enzo's Office

~Jessica~

With nowhere else to go, I return to the office. The elevator doors close behind me and it takes me a minute to realize I'm not moving, since I didn't press any of the buttons. My body feels slightly disconnected, like I'm just watching it move rather than controlling it myself.

My assistant, Matthew, looks up in surprise when I walk past his desk. 

“Mrs Parker? Did you forget something?”

“No.” I leave my answer as simple as that as I walk into my office and shut the door, leaving the lights off. A wall of glass covers one side of the room, usually giving me a view over the Manhattan skyline that I can't get enough of, but right now, I leave the window dimmed. I want the darkness. I want to drown in it.

How did this happen? I'm an intelligent, independent woman. How did I end up as someone betrayed by the people closest to her? I honestly thought I was too smart to ever end up here, but maybe being smart doesn’t have anything to do with it. Maybe my husband is just a bastard.

Ex-husband, I quickly correct myself in my head. I might as well get used to thinking of him that way. There are women out there who could forgive this kind of transgression, but I’m not one of them. The bridge has been burned as far as I’m concerned. There’s no going back.

With that in mind, I pull Enzo’s business card from my pocket, running my thumb across the raised numbers. It feels crazy to trust someone I don’t even know with something so important, but he has no reason to screw me over. He didn’t have to make the offer at all and he has no way of knowing if I’ll accept it. I honestly think he just wanted to help. 

“Mr Baresi’s office.” The woman on the other end sounds impossibly cool and professional, the complete opposite of how I feel right now. My hand holding my phone trembles against my ear.

“Yes, hello. Hi.” I speak to powerful, important people all the time, but right now, I’m stuttering worse than an intern on their first day. “My name is Jessica Williams, I’m calling for…”

She cuts me off before I can finish. “He’s expecting your call. One moment, please.”

I’m put on hold as I try to pull myself together. Enzo must have been pretty damn sure I’d get in touch if he already told his assistant about me. He definitely doesn’t waste any time.

There's a click on the line followed by the sound of Enzo's voice. "Ms Williams."

He strikes me as a man who likes to get right down to business, so I follow suit. "If your offer is still good, I'd like to accept."

"I thought you might." He says that as if he knows anything about me, which he doesn't. "Come to my office tonight and I'll have the papers ready for you."

"Tonight?" I repeat in confusion. How can he possibly get it done that quickly?

"I'm leaving the country tomorrow," is his clipped reply. "It has to be tonight. I'll send you directions."

"Al-alright. I guess you need my number or my email..."

Before I finish, my phone pings against my ear.

"That won't be necessary. Eight o'clock, Ms Williams."

The line disconnects before I can put together a response.

Dazed by the entire conversation, not to mention the earlier events of the day, I look down at the text I've just received. It's simply the coordinates to a location, not even a street address. What is this guy? A spy?

I'm still staring at the phone when another message comes in, one I don't want to see. It's from Kyle.

Jess, we need to talk. Please, don't do anything hasty.

Like dumping your freeloading ass, I think bitterly. As long as we've been together, I've supported him, waiting for him to get his big break with his art. I never understood his work, but he's always been so passionate about it, I thought it must have some value. Now, I can see his dedication means nothing.

I've wasted enough time on him and I am definitely not going to sit around and feel sorry for myself. I call my personal shopper instead, telling her I need something professional and stunning, and I make a last-minute appointment at the spa. Normally, it's something Chelsea and I do together, and that thought makes my chest tighten, but I quickly push it down too. She's dead to me now just like Kyle is. Some women may be able to forgive and forget, but I'm not one of them. I never have been. I give people the benefit of the doubt - too much so, apparently - but once that trust is broken, it can’t be rebuilt.

Enzo Baresi seems to be taking his wife’s betrayal in his stride, and for reasons I don’t fully understand, I want to show him that I refuse to let it break me either. I’m stronger than that, and I want him to know it.

Two hours later, I’m ready. I’ve been manicured and primped to perfection, my skin radiant and my makeup flawless. The black dress I wear sends a message that I am a woman who knows just what she has to offer the world, and my heels say that nothing can slow me down. In a small act of rebellion that’s just for me, I’m wearing the black lace corset and garter belt I’d bought for tonight beneath my dress. Kyle will never get to see it, but that’s no reason I can’t still feel sexy wearing it. My dark brown hair curls over my shoulders, my eyeliner draws out my blue eyes, and a deep red lipstick gives my lips a warm, inviting glow. 

Eat your heart out, Kyle Parker.

Enzo’s office is in Midtown, only twenty blocks from mine, and I take a taxi since I’m checking into a hotel tonight. I don’t have a home to go back to just yet but I’ll get on that first thing tomorrow. The time in the spa did me good and my head is starting to clear. I’ll get through this, just as always have, and picking up the paperwork from Enzo is a good first step.

The lights in the lobby of the sleek glass office building are dimmed as I walk in, and my high heels click on the tiled floor as I make my way to the security desk.

“Jessica Williams for Enzo Baresi, please.”

The man at the desk looks more like a bouncer than a receptionist, with broad shoulders and a scar across his cheek, and he gives a sharp nod to acknowledge me.

“Last elevator on the right. Top floor.”

An executive elevator to the top floor? Who exactly is this man?

My heart begins to drum a little faster in my chest as I step into the elevator, pressing my finger against the smooth, cool circle at the top of the columns of buttons. By the time I reach the top, butterflies are fluttering in my stomach, but I tell myself it’s only from the ride. 

The door opens directly into a large, elegant waiting room, and an equally elegant woman sits behind the long, sleek, black desk at the far end. Her eyes take me in slowly and, perhaps, with just a hint of jealousy. Is that because I’m meeting with Enzo, or because I look damn good? I don’t really care either way. Nobody’s opinion is going to affect me right now.

“Go right in, Ms Williams,” she tells me coolly, pointing to a door to her left. “He’s expecting you.”

She presses a button on her desk and the door to Enzo’s office unlocks, the light turning green.

Holding my head up high, I walk inside.

The office is the size of a typical New York apartment, with the same sleek black furniture as the reception. The floor-to-ceiling windows and the long, low coffee table are the only design elements to break up the expanse of cold, dark space. There are no paintings on the walls, no plants or flowers, nothing to personalize the room.

The man himself sits behind a huge desk in the corner, his back to the window. He’s wearing the same suit from earlier but his tie has been removed and the shirt is open at the neck. This must be what he looks like when he's relaxed.

I feel far from relaxed, though, as my stomach flutters despite all my earlier talk about not caring what anyone else thinks. This is a powerful man, one with a dark, dangerous edge I can sense. He's nothing like Kyle, and I can't help wondering what Chelsea could have been thinking, choosing my husband over her own. Unless she knows something I don't?

Instinctively, I step forward until I’m standing just in front of his desk. I’m not going to hang back like a nervous schoolgirl, hoping he’ll call me forward. I may be nervous, but I’m also proud and I’m not about to change that now.

“Good evening, Mr Baresi.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, but his voice is smooth when he speaks. “Ms Williams. I’m glad you could make it. It looks like you haven't wasted any time wallowing today."

His eyes travel over me, sinfully slowly, leaving a trail of fire across my skin.

I try to match his calm, confident tone. "I've never been one to sit around and feel sorry for myself."

"Good. I don't have time for that either."

He leans forward in his chair, resting his arms on his desk, his eyes raking over my body once more before he pushes a folder across to me.

"All the paperwork you'll need is in there. I'll have soft copies sent to you as well if you need to change any of the wording. My wife and I had a fairly extensive prenuptial agreement, some of which won't apply to you."

"Thank you." As I pick up the folder off his sturdy desk, something he just said lingers in the back of my mind. "Why did you have me come pick this up, then?"

"Excuse me?" His eyebrow goes back up. He clearly isn't used to being questioned.

"You just said you'll send me the soft copies. Why didn't you do that in the first place? Why make me come down here in person?"

Something like respect glimmers in his eyes. "I wanted to make sure you deserved it. If you'd wasted even one night crying over a man like that, nothing I could do would help you."

That is awfully presumptuous of him. Not that I'm not grateful for the papers, because I am, but he really doesn't know me well enough to make that kind of judgement about me. He doesn't know me at all.

"I can assure you I'm ready to move on. Thank you for your help, Mr Baresi."

Tucking the folder beneath my arm, I turn to go but he stops me with just one word. "Jessica."

He hasn't used my name before, and the sound of it in his deep, commanding voice sends a shiver down my spine. I don't answer, but I turn back to him, inviting him to speak.

"Why did you get dressed up to come and see me?"

My eyebrows shoot up. "You're assuming it's for you? Maybe I just wanted to look good for me."

He almost smiles, exhaling in amusement. "I would have no problem with that, but I don't think that's why you did it."

"Are you about to mansplain my clothing choices to me?" I cross my arms defiantly, which only seems to amuse him more.

Slowly, as if he has all the time in the world, he gets to his feet and walks over to me, his eyes fixed on me the whole time.

"Let me tell you what I think and you can tell me if I'm wrong," he suggests. "I think you got dressed up because you want to prove to me that your husband was a fool to fuck my wife when he could have had you."

His words hit me like lightning, sending electricity through my veins. I definitely didn't expect him to say that.

He takes his time looking me up and down again, examining me like an object on display. "Having seen the results, I'm tempted to agree."

"What do you want, Mr Baresi?" I try to sound offended, but my breath is too short and it comes out needy instead. What the hell is wrong with me?

"I want what you want, Jessica." He uses my name again, though I still haven't used his. "I want revenge. I want them to know that they didn't break us. I want to laugh in their faces, and I want you to do it with me."

I'm starting to get an idea of what he's suggesting but I can't quite believe it. "Are you saying..."

I can't force the words out but he doesn't make me. He finishes the sentence for me himself. "... that we should fuck each other right now and send them a picture for proof that we’ve moved on? Yes, Jessica. That's exactly what I'm saying."