The Aubrey Rules (20 page)

“Would you listen to me? I think you’re perfect. I
love
your body. I
love
your curves. You’re the one who is insecure about it, and you shouldn’t be. I want you, exactly the way you are. But I’m not sure you can say the same about me. Because you’re the one who won’t tell anyone I’m your boyfriend,” Beckett interrupts. “Do you know how that makes me feel?”

I blink. His words slap across my face.

“What?”

“Are you embarrassed about me? Is work an excuse?”

“
Me?
Embarrassed of
you?
That’s crazy!”

“The real me,” Beckett challenges. “The guy who likes to stay home instead of dealing with this shit in a bar. The way too serious guy. The one who is awkward in social settings. The real me, not surface me that all those girls in there have scripted to be their own fantasy dream guy. And maybe you think you can do better than that, and that’s why you won’t tell anyone about us.”

I’m stunned into silence. Does he actually
believe
that? It’s insane.

Just as insane as me worrying about him wanting the perfect girls in the bar.

Guilt floods me. Beckett was trying to be the celebrity I’ve coached him to be. And my own insecurity and jealousy drove me to be an idiot.

I draw a breath of the frozen air between us. I need to prove to him that I love him, the
real
Beckett. And I have no doubts about us or where we are going.

I retrieve my cell phone. I manage to start typing, even though my fingers are going numb from the cold.

“You’re seriously texting someone right now?” Beckett snaps, annoyed with me.

“Yes,” I say. “I’m texting Tom.”

“
What?
”

I turn the phone around and show him my message.

Tom, Beckett Riley and I are dating. I know you might feel this is a conflict of interest, so you can remove me from the account if need be, but I wanted you to know as a professional courtesy.

Then I hit ‘send’ before Beckett can protest.

“Done,” I say, dropping my phone into my purse. “I like the
real
Beckett. You’re more important to me than my job at ChicagoConnect.”

Beckett is silent for a moment.

I bite my lip, willing him to see the love in my eyes.

Then he does something he’s never done before. He reaches for my hand in public and laces his fingers through mine.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Beckett says, stepping closer.

“I know I didn’t,” I say, gazing up at him. “I wanted to.”

“You’re the one I want, Aubrey,” Beckett says, cupping my face in his hands. “You’re beautiful and sexy and
nobody
compares to you. You’re the
only
one I want.”

Then he presses his lips against mine in a slow, sweet kiss that tells me his words are true.

I break the kiss and stare up at him. “I’m sorry I was a jealous idiot.”

“Sorry I was an insecure idiot.”

I put my hands on his leather jacket and draw him closer. “You’re my idiot, don’t ever forget that.”

“Not a chance,” he says, kissing me again. “I checked yes, remember?”

I break the kiss again. “So can we go back inside and celebrate your big win? Because I really want to do that. I’m so proud of you, Beckett. You deserve to celebrate tonight.”

Beckett cocks an eyebrow at me. “What if I want to celebrate a different way?”

“Oh?”

“Privately.”

“Details, please.”

“My celebration involves you moving like a ninja to get out of your jeans to show me your Lucky Charms panties.”

I stop walking. My face burns hot and Beckett flashes me a smile.

“My ninja moves to get out of my jeans are awful,” I declare.

“They’ll be hot. I need to see it.”

I shriek with laughter. “No, you don’t!”

Beckett draws me to him and we’re both laughing as we make our way out of the alley. I’m aware of fans calling his name as we get up to the valet stand, and cell phones taking pictures, but I don’t care.

I know where I stand with my captain.

And nothing else matters.

Chapter 27

The Aubrey Rules To Live By, Rule #27:
When you have a meeting with someone important, confidence is the key. You stride into the meeting, not walk. You maintain eye contact. You speak with authority. You win this meeting.

**Note**
Okay, obviously I was high when I wrote this rule. How can I be confident when I’m about to talk to my boss about dating a client?

**Note #2**
My palms are sweaty.

**Note #3**
I freaking hope I can find the ON button for my mental filter, or I might throw myself at Tom’s feet and yell “Forgive me because I LOVE HIM” and sob in melodramatic form like an actress in an epic romance movie
.

**Note #4**
Speaking of movies, I still have to make Beckett watch
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
with me.

**Note #5**
That can be payback for watching sharks eat chum the other night with him. Gross. And now I don’t want to go in open water this summer.

**Note #6**
SHIT. SECOND REMINDER TO SELF. BIKINI SEASON IS MONTHS AWAY AND NOW I HAVE BECKETT I MUST START THAT 21-DAY FIX PROGRAM I SAW ON TV THE OTHER NIGHT.

**Note #7**
Fries could go in that carb container, right?

**Note #8**
FOCUS. NOW YOU HAVE TO GO TELL YOUR BOSS YOU LOVE HIS CLIENT AND THIS WILL BE HIDEOUS.

I head down the long hallway to Tom’s corner office with complete dread. While I have no doubts about blowing up my rule about falling for Beckett, and I have zero regret about my text to Tom last night, I’m queasy about having this conversation.

Tom texted me back and said we’d discuss the situation in the morning when I got in to the office. Ugh. I don’t want him to think any less of me as a professional because I fell for Beckett, but if he does, I can’t control that.

But I can assure him that while working any event on the behalf of ChicagoConnect I’ll be a complete professional and behave as I would representing any other client.

It’s going to be up to Tom as to whether he wants to believe me or not.

Neilson is at her desk outside of Tom’s office when I get there. I wonder if she knows.

Oh, shit, I’m sure she does. She handles all of Tom’s confidential information, and Lord knows he probably sent emails about it last night to his direct reports and flagged me as a potential problem.

I wonder if Mallory knows.

Ugh, a wave of nausea rips through me from the mere idea of her knowing about Beckett. She’s been waiting for me to slip up for weeks now, and this is the ammo she needs to further make my life hell. And she’ll go straight to Tom and say, “I told her not to get involved and I saw it coming” and blah, bla—”

Neilson smiles at me. “Good morning, Aubrey,” she says, interrupting my thoughts. “Tom is expecting you.”

Oy.

She gets up from her seat and leads me to Tom’s office. Neilson raps on the doorframe to announce her presence.

“Tom? I have Aubrey here to see you,” she says.

“Send her in,” Tom says. “And shut the door behind you on the way out.”

Crap, that’s a horrible sign. I wonder if he’s going to do a tirade CEO thing on me. Tom will scream about me being unprofessional and seducing his client and then fire my ass on the spot.

Okay. Perhaps that’s a bit dramatic.

He’ll accuse me of being unprofessional, not upholding his moral standards for the company, and terminate me.

There. That’s the politically correct way this will go down.

I hold my head up and straighten my spine. If I’m going to be kicked to the curb, Tom’s going to know he’s not rattling me. That it’s his choice, but I can be professional and be Beckett’s girlfriend at the same time. If that’s not what he wants, his loss. I will rebound and take my social media skills elsewhere.

Good Lord. Now I’m sounding like LeBron James when he took his “talents” to the Miami Heat.

I stride into the office and hear Neilson close the door behind me. I stand tall in my Michael Kors pointy-toe pumps, ready to prove I still deserve to be here.

Tom inclines his head toward the guest chair across from his chic black desk.

“Please have a seat,” Tom says.

I move to the chair and slip into it.

Tom looks at me and exhales. “So you’re dating Beckett.”

Ugh. This is awkward. I wanted to keep my work and personal life separate and now I have to discuss my love life with the CEO of my company.

This is why I have rules.

So shit like this doesn’t happen.

But loving Beckett is worth going through this awkwardness tenfold if I have to.

Suddenly, I’m calm. My nerves disappear. That is what is important here.
What I have with Beckett.
Yes, I want a career in social media, but people have survived far worse scandals than falling in love to rebuild tarnished images. So even if the worst happens, I’ll move past it.

“I am,” I say, my voice firm with resolve. “We met, we hit it off, and our relationship progressed to exclusively dating each other,” I say truthfully. “I assure you I’ll be nothing but professional around Beckett in my duties on your behalf, if you retain me on his account. But if I’m not working an event with him, I’m his girlfriend, and I’ll act like it.”

Tom calmly folds his hands on his desk and leans forward.

“What happens if you two don’t work out? Have a fight? Surely that will come into the workplace.”

“I can’t predict the future, or what Beckett would do if we broke up,” I say truthfully. “I can tell you, however, that I will be a professional on your behalf at all times.”

Tom pushes himself back from his desk and stands up, walking in front of the large window overlooking bustling Michigan Avenue.

“You haven’t met my wife, Natalie, yet,” Tom says, turning around and studying me. “We met at an ad agency over on Wacker Drive.”

I sit still. I see the open expression on Tom’s face and hope fills me.

“I was the new account executive, and she was hired as one of our department assistant AEs,” Tom explains. “So I’m not one to judge what you’re doing, Aubrey. Natalie is the love of my life, and I would have lost her if I would have abided by unwritten office rules.”

I don’t say a word. Is it too much to hope that everything is going to work out?

“I know this isn’t ideal,” I say honestly.

Tom nods. “No, I can’t say it is. However, Beckett’s made it clear you’re the only reason he’s here. I know that, you know that. I also know he could walk if this doesn’t work out, but it’s a chance I wouldn’t even have had in the first place without you.”

Wow. I have to give Tom credit for seeing the whole picture here.

“You have my word I’ll be professional,” I say strongly.

“I trust you,” Tom says. “And as far as I’m concerned, this is your business. And Beckett’s. You can tell people or not tell people, that’s your call.”

I realize he hasn’t said anything to Mallory.

I’m debating what to do about that when he clears his throat.

“So do you want to ride together to the photoshoot this afternoon?” Tom asks.

This is the photoshoot for
Inside The Net,
a hockey magazine that is featuring the rising Chicago Buffaloes on the cover. They wanted Beckett and Landy for the shoot, and of course I’ll be there to snap pictures of the behind the scenes action for Beckett’s social media feeds.

“Sounds good,” I say, rising from my seat. “And thank you for this conversation. It means more to me than you could know, Tom.”

“You’re welcome,” Tom says. “And I’ll meet you in the reception area at one.”

“Okay,” I say, smiling.

Then I leave, elation sweeping over me. I’m going to have both. I can be Beckett’s social media consultant and his girlfriend. I’m so relieved and happy. And I know Beckett will be, too.

I turn the corner and see Mallory striding into her office. I stop dead in my tracks. I wrestle with the decision to tell her or not. Beckett is a public figure. We’ll be talked about. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but it will happen. No doubt Mallory will think she can sink me with that tidbit once she gets it.

Unless I tell her first.

I go to my desk, as no doubt Mallory will yell for something in less than five minutes. I bring up Beckett’s media accounts to log responses, likes, shares, etc. and get no farther than accessing his Twitter homepage when I hear my name.

“Aubrey, are you out there?” Mallory calls.

“Yes, Mallory, I am,” I respond.

“Please come in here,” she orders.

I get up, grab my notebook and pen, and head into her office.

“Yes?”

“Loads to do today,” Mallory declares. She’s typing on her keyboard, and mentally I try to decide what webpage will pop up first: flooring, shoes, or wildcard, something such as lamps.

It’s like spinning a prize wheel and waiting for the answer to be revealed, I think.

Click, click and . . . Whooo! It’s flooring!

I would totally have won a car or jackpot if I were playing for prizes.

Mallory doesn’t even glance at me.

“I need all the contents of the two lower filing cabinets purged,” she states. “Those files are ridiculously old. And I need the space.”

Ha, yes, space for folders labeled ‘heated flooring options’ and ‘countertops.’ I should know. I typed them all.

“Okay,” I say. “So I can come in here and box them, then call the shredder company to retrieve them?”

“Um,
no,
” Mallory says, emphasizing the word “no” like I’m a class-A idiot. “I don’t trust those places. I want you to personally shred each and every file.”

She has got to be kidding.

“But, Mallory, I’m sure I can find a reputable shredding service to handle that due to the volume of the files,” I say.

Mallory clicks on a hardwood option. “No. And now that I think about it, the whole cabinet might need to be shredded. But first I want an inventory of every file folder and how many pages are in it.”

I bite down on my lower lip. Oh, she’s doing this part as punishment because I challenged her idea. That’s a reoccurring theme with her.

“Okay,” I say.

Mallory swivels in her chair, obviously surprised I didn’t push back more.

“Okay?”

“Sure,” I say. Then I drop my own bomb. One she can’t punish me for. “Oh, and just because you’ll see it soon in the media, I’m dating Beckett Riley.”

Mallory’s glossy lips part into a shocked circle. “You
what?
”

“I’m with Beckett,” I say. “Don’t worry, I don’t have a Pinterest shrine to him, but I
am
his girlfriend,” I say, reminding her of the barb she threw at me last month.

“This is very,
very
unethical,” Mallory says, her tone aghast.

“Some people might think so,” I say slowly, setting her up. “But I can keep the two separate.”

“Aubrey, I can’t even begin to tell you how disrespectful this is to ChicagoConnect. How this damages our reputation.”

I cock an eyebrow at her. “Does it? Or will it give us lots of social media buzz when people start talking about it?”

Her eyes narrow. “This is not the kind of buzz Tom wants.”

“Really?”

“Oh, I know it,” Mallory declares. “And I’m sorry, Aubrey, but I’m going to have to inform Tom of this situation.
At once.
”

Ha! She fell right into it.

“Um, you can if you want, but he already knows,” I say sweetly.

The glossy lips go into an O for a second time this morning.

“Wh-What?”

“I told Tom. He’s fine with it. So talk to him if you want, but since the CEO is okay with me and Beckett, I’m sure you will be, too,” I say, smiling at her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get started on these files before I go to Beckett’s photo shoot this afternoon. Is that okay?”

Mallory doesn’t say anything. I know I’ve pissed her off to new heights, but I don’t care. I have my job. I have the support of the CEO.

Most of all, I have Beckett.

Now that all of this is squared away, I can breathe easy. I don’t have to hide my relationship with Beckett. I don’t have to fear losing my job.

My life is exactly where I want it to be.

Any other bumps that come along, I know I can handle.

I’m sure of it.