Illicit

Chapter Four

As I reached the revolving doors and stepped outside into the heat of late August in New York, Reed Tower’s namesake was long gone–but still at the forefront of my mind. To say I was consumed by him would have been an understatement. Every interaction with Cabot Reed completely flummoxed me.

Frankly, I couldn’t imagine working for someone so unpredictable.

But the worst part was the gift. I still couldn’t understand how the same man who was cold and uninterested had sent me such an incredible–thoughtful–present.

“Rylan!”

I turned at the sound of my name, smiling when I spotted my best friend.

Greer strode toward me, tight tawny curls bouncing with each step. “Hey, bestie boo! How was your first day?”

I hugged her and we fell into step together, heading east. “It was good.” I paused, then added, “A bit weird.”

Greer’s brows furrowed. “How so?”

“My boss is…” Hmm, how to describe him? “So, it turns out that I won’t be working for Cabot Reed after all.”

“What? Really? Why not?” Greer had sat through countless hours of me reciting what I’d learned about the man and his company, so she knew what a disappointment this was.

“I guess he’s retiring.” I shrugged. “It isn’t that shocking, really, seeing as how old the man is, but still. It kinda threw me for a loop today when I found out.”

“Like he couldn’t have waited until after your internship?”

I laughed. “I think we’re overestimating the importance of an intern, G.”

She scowled. “Still. So, who will you be shadowing? An editor or something?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I wish it were that simple.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll be shadowing Cabot Reed’s son.” And I’m in love with him.

Obviously, I wasn’t, but being this attracted to the man was just as problematic.

Greer raised her eyebrows, searching my gaze as we reached a stoplight and waited for the crosswalk sign to light up. “Are you holding in a fart?”

I laughed loudly, then covered my mouth, looking around to make sure no one heard her question. “What the hell, Greer, what?”

“Your face looks weird.” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with the son?”

When the light changed, I pulled her into the crosswalk. “Nothing. Everything.” I sighed as I tried to gather my thoughts. I began by explaining the strange elevator ride with Reed this morning, then told Greer about the book and the two following interactions with the man that would soon run Reed Publishing.

I also might have accidentally included the fact that he was absolutely the most beautiful man on the planet and my body had not missed that little fact.

“He sounds… confusing as fuck.” She laughed. “And I’m completely intrigued.” Pulling out her phone, she said, “What’s his name?”

“Cabot Reed.”

“No, the son.”

“Also Cabot Reed. Junior, I guess.”

“Oh,” she said, drawing out the single syllable. “One of those families.” She rolled her eyes. “Not creative enough to come up with a name for the kid so they name him after the father.”

Laughing, I slid my arm through hers and made her resume walking. “I don’t think it’s a lack of creativity that makes people pass names down through a family.”

Greer shrugged, scanning through the images on her phone. “This is too weird.”

“What is?”

“It’s like he doesn’t exist. I mean, his father is all over the internet, and it talks about him having a son, but there’s not a single picture of the little guy.”

“Nothing about the man is little,” I grumbled.

Greer’s mouth dropped open as she looked at me. “Oh my god.”

“I meant his ego.” Good save. Ipulled the phone from Greer’s hands and investigated. After three pages of images, none were of the younger Cabot Reed. Passing the phone back to her as we headed down a side street, I said, “I can give you a mental image. Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Tall, dark, and unfairly handsome. Eyes as black as night. Full lips that he doesn’t deserve. A body like…” I grunted. “I don’t even know. A Greek god, probably.”

Greer whistled appreciatively. “And rich?”

I snorted. “Yeah, quite.”

“Nice.”

“He’s also arrogant and rude.”

She shrugged. “The hot ones usually are. One man can’t have everything; it wouldn’t be fair to the other menfolk.” She stopped walking and pointed up ahead. “That’s where we’re going tonight.”

I followed her finger to a lingerie store on the other side of the street, frowning when there was no pub in sight. “I was hoping for some loaded potato skins and a beer or two…”

“We’ll eat.” Grabbing my shoulders, she turned me so I could see the pub directly across the street from the lingerie store. “But first, you need a job; I’m getting you a job.”

“There?” My eyes bulged as I looked back across the street at White Rabbit. It was well known as one of the fanciest lingerie stores in the city. And that was about the extent of my knowledge on the subject. “I don’t even own expensive lingerie, G.”

“Yet.” Greer pulled me forward, determined as ever to get her way. ”Besides, that’s what employee discounts are for.”

We stopped on the curb outside the store and peered inside. The interior was well lit and decorated in things that mimicked the outdoors, but not in a rugged, camping sort of way. More like an ethereal, fairy wonderland way. From the fluffy clouds descending from the ceiling–much like those within the lobby of Reed Tower–to the grassy display shelves, the lingerie inside White Rabbit was showcased amid what almost looked like rolling green hills.

“Wow,” I whispered, “it looks magical.”

Greer beamed. “I know. It’s like La Perla…” She paused, tilting her head. “If La Perla had an Alice in Wonderland fetish. Come on. Let’s go get you a job. My friend works here and said they’re hiring.”

As soon as we stepped inside, I was overwhelmed by a fresh, sultry scent, as if perfume was pumped into the air the way oxygen was pumped into casinos in Atlantic City.

My eyes widened as I took it all in. The glimpse into the window I’d had from across the street was nothing compared to stepping inside White Rabbit. The retail shop was nearly as breathtaking as the items sold within its walls.

“You’ve really never been here?” Greer tilted her head.

I nearly laughed. “You’ve seen my wardrobe.”

“Yeah, but…” She looked over her shoulder toward the back of the store, then back at me. “I guess I just figured… with all the romance you read, you’d at least know of this place–”

“Hi, welcome to White Rabbit.”

I scanned the store until I located the cash register and the woman standing behind the counter.

She waved and added, “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“No, thank you, just looking.”

“Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Actually,” Greer said, “I was told you’re hiring?”

The woman’s smile widened. “We are. It’s just part time, but…” She stepped out from behind the counter, running her hands over her very pregnant belly. “I’m not able to work the hours I used to work.” She laughed softly. “We need someone to take some of those off my hands. It would start with a few hours in the evenings, Monday through Friday, then, possibly, you could work on a more full-time basis when the baby comes. Do you have retail experience?” she asked Greer as we approached the register.

“No, it's not for me. I have a job.” She looked pointedly at me.

“Oh, sorry. My mistake. Do you have any retail experience?”

“No,” I admitted. “But I learn quickly.” How hard could it be?

“And she loves lingerie,” Greer lied.

I snorted, then tried to hide it with a cough. I just… didn’t see the point of lingerie. My tits wanted comfort, you know, not luxury.

“Why don’t you look around a bit and I’ll see if I can track down the boss for an interview.”

Just like that? “Okay, um…”

“Come on.” Greer tugged me away from the counter and whispered, “You’re about to get a job!”

Laughing at my friend's enthusiasm, I stopped to run my fingertips over a velvet corset. “Let’s not get too excited just yet. You know I don’t have any retail experience.” I leaned closer and added quietly, “And I don’t know anything about lingerie.”

Greer grabbed the corset and held it up to my chest. “So? What’s to know? You read romance; lingerie is romance.”

“That seems like a bit of a stretch.”

“Is it?” Greer raised an eyebrow as she circled a rack of delicate lace teddies. “Then how about this?” She ran her fingertips over the lace closest to her. “Lingerie is an aphrodisiac. Foreplay. You know what I mean? It may not be romance, but it certainly has a leading role.” She picked up another corset and held it up to herself. “And anyway, learn as you go. You think I knew shit about how to manage a speakeasy when I started at Prohibition?”

“You were at least already a bartender.”

“Yes, and you are a romance reader, Rylan Blake.” Greer leveled her eyes on me. “And we’ve already decided that lingerie is a form of romance.”

I laughed, shaking my head at my friend’s often confounding way of getting from A to B. “I still think it's a stretch, buddy.”

“Ladies,” the store clerk called, “Come meet the boss.”