Illicit

“Oh, he does,” Marcus said as he slipped his hand into Hector’s. “He was last fall’s internship victim.”

Victim? “You’ll have to tell me all about your experience.”

Marcus snorted. “Oh, he will. The boy has been talking about your arrival all weekend.” He winked at Hector and the two of them started toward the elevator bay with Eloise on their heels.

“Oh! Rylan! Hold on.” Marisa stretched to reach back over the tall reception desk, then retrieved a package wrapped in brown Kraft paper and tied with braided twine. “This came for you a little while ago.”

Frowning, I looked down at the package, then up at Marisa. “Who sent it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Delivered by courier about an hour ago.”

Hmm. Who would send me a gift on the first day of my internship? Greer?

No, my best friend was more likely to show up in the lobby at five o’clock, ready to drag me to happy hour to celebrate surviving my first day. But that only left one other person who knew about the internship starting today, and there was no way Greer’s grandfather would send me anything. The professor was as sentimental as a box of rocks.

With a shrug, I untied the twine and slipped my fingers beneath the paper, gently lifting the tape up. When the paper fell away, my eyes bulged out of my head.

“Holy shit, girl. That’s a limited edition gilded Simona Steele,” Marisa whispered in awe. “They re-released her first novel after her tenth. It was a whole thing.”

As if I didn’t know this about my favorite author of all time. I ran my fingertips over the raised title font. “They only made a handful of them,” I whispered.

“I’ve never even seen one in person, and I worked here when they released them.” She ran her fingertips over the cover reverently, then looked up at me. “Who’s it from?”

Great question. There had been nothing written on the paper and no note attached to the book.

“Is it signed?” she asked.

The idea made my heart skip a beat. I wasted no time flipping open the cover to find the answer to Marisa’s question, but instead of the author’s signature, a bright blue sticky note was affixed to the inside cover.

It’s actually a billion-dollar industry, but who’s counting?

Certainly not someone like me.

Ho-ly shit.

Only one person could have sent this.

He’d been tall, dark, and dangerously sexy. He’d also been annoying as hell.

And he’d mocked my love of romance novels…

Hadn’t he?

This gift would indicate otherwise, but I know what I saw. That glint of amusement in his eyes, that smirk… he’d definitely been making fun of me.

Right?

Maybe I’d misread the situation? Surely, sending me such a rare and special gift meant the Smirker hadn’t been mocking me at all. Or, possibly, he was–at the very least–remorseful for doing so.

Either way, I had no idea who he was–or how he’d had any idea who I am.

“Look at this,” Marisa said, motioning for the others to circle us. “Rylan already has a secret admirer.”

Hector scoffed, reaching out toward the book. “Is that a…?”

“It is!” Marisa squealed.

I nodded slowly. “A gilded Steele.”

“May I?”

I handed him the book and he turned it over in his hands, looking at it with awe and appreciation in his eyes. “Only, like, fifty of these exist.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“Okay, so, you’ve only been here a few hours and you already have a fan.” Turning the book over in his hands, Hector shook his head. “It’s not fair. It took me at least four weeks to get noticed around here.”

Marcus tsked. “I noticed you.”

“You didn’t speak to me for four weeks.” He lifted only his eyes and leveled his gaze on Marcus. “And you certainly didn’t send me sexy gifts like gilded Simona Steele hardbacks.” Hector paused. “Actually… you still don’t send me gifts like this.”

“Yes, but I moved you into my apartment?”

Marisa laughed, swiping the book from Hector’s hands. “Stop molesting Rylan’s present.” She handed it back to me. “Come on. Let’s go eat and figure out this mystery with food in our stomachs.”

After ordering our meals, the topic turned back to me and my new book. It sat in the center of the table, and we all stared at it as if doing so would provide us with answers.

Finally, Eloise spoke up. “So, who do you think sent it? And what does that message mean?”

“Ooh,” Hector agreed, “Yeah, what’s a billion-dollar industry?”

“Romance,” I answered, only half paying attention to the conversation. My cheeks heated as I thought back to the way I acted toward the handsome stranger in the elevator this morning. I practically bit his head off. It was probably just my nerves–or the stress of nearly crapping my pants on the first day–but the why didn’t matter.

It was the who that troubled me now.

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

“What is it?” Marisa asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I was in the elevator with this guy this morning, and I dropped my book.” I paused to grab my tattered Simona Steele paperback from my purse and hold it up. “He picked it up, this guy in the elevator, and then he made this flippant comment like, ‘nice reading material’ or something like that, and I lost it.” I groaned at the memory. I’d been instantly on the defensive. Maybe he hadn’t even been teasing me, and I just lit into him for no reason. I snorted and quickly covered my mouth.

“So then what happened?” Marisa asked, leaning forward in her seat.

“Well, I guess I got a little defensive. I snapped at him and gave him an earful about what a lucrative business romance is…” My words trailed off as Marisa’s eyes widened. “What?”

She opened her mouth and closed it, then repeated the motion a few times before saying, “You… you snapped at that man in the elevator?”

My stomach twisted. “Yes…?”

Marisa blinked a few times.

“Mar?” Eloise nudged. “You’re acting weird.”

Marisa looked at everyone quickly, then back at me, eyes wide. “Are you saying that the man you rode the elevator with this morning, when you got to work… are you saying that he sent you this?” She reached back into my purse and held up my new most prized possession. “After you… you snapped at him?” she practically sputtered.

Ruh roh. “Yes? Why? What’s wrong? I didn’t mean to snap at him, I just…” With a sigh, I picked up my iced tea and stirred it with the straw. “Romance gets a bad rap, okay? And I’m tired of it. There’s nothing wrong with reading about sexy stuff and happily ever after.”

“You guys,” Marisa said, her voice low and serious. “I saw who she got off the elevator with.”

I swung my head toward her. “You what? You did? Who was it? Do you know him?”

Marisa snorted. “Know him? Yeah. You could say that.” She looked around at the others. “In fact, you could say we all know him. Or, at least, of him.”

I scanned the other faces at the table–they looked as bewildered as I felt–then I turned my attention back to Marisa. “Well? Who was he?”

Marisa’s smile spread slowly into a wide, conspiratorial grin as she leaned back in her seat and splayed her hands. “Well, fall intern, that man you snapped at in the elevator was your new boss.”

My eyebrows made a slow climb up my forehead as those words sank in.

Marisa sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I honestly thought you knew. I mean, after the way you looked when you left the elevator, all flustered and frustrated.” She chuckled. “He has that effect on people, honestly.”

“Who?” Eloise asked, a hint of impatience coloring her tone.

“Cabot Reed.”