A Wish, A Kiss, All Amiss Ch. 02

Chapter 2

Nothing good ever came of Rosaline’s wishes.

The last time it happened, she ended up fleeing and inventing a new identity to throw herself off the scent from The Order’s radar. She had few choices at that time, and no reason to stay.

But could she stay now? She had her life here as Julia, a stable job that she liked, a nice apartment in the city, and her first kiss.

She touched her lips with her fingers; she could still feel his warm lips on hers, false as it was.

She knew he had only kissed her because she had wished him to, but now here she was, in the editor’s meeting daydreaming about this sexy stranger’s lips, wanting to taste them again, and if she were more honest, kissing those lips would not be enough; she wanted the words that flowed so effortlessly from those lips, and the man that could so eloquently produce them.

Of course, the fact that he did not ask for her number or ask to go into her apartment only proved that reality was not on the side of her silly daydreams, and she should leave while she still could.

He had no real interest in her; he had placed a final kiss on her forehead before turning around without a word. The man’s silence spoke volumes as he had been more than adequate to keep up with her in their conversations. Rosaline smiled; adequate did not quite adequately describe him.

And that was why she went to interrogate the baristas at the café instead of packing and leaving.

“Oh, I’d fuck him,” the third waitress had stated with lusty eyes. But that did not answer Rosaline’s question, so she asked again. “I’ve never seen him before or after here, and I’d definitely remember a hot piece of ass like that.” Forget his ass, Rosaline thought while thanking her.

At least this proved that he was not just a figment of her imagination as Rosaline had started to doubt her own sanity.

“That should conclude our meeting today. Julia?” Linda’s deep flat voice drifted into her ear. “Julia,” Linda repeated.

Rosaline snapped out of her reverie and returned her attention to the editor’s meeting.

“Did you see the email about Rainey?” Linda asked, and when Rosaline’s face stayed blank, she continued, “The author that sold five-million-three-hundred-thousand-two-thousand-seven-hundred-and-fifty copies on his first book in the first year?”

Nodding, Rosaline thought she would remember that particular number. She should.

“He’s coming in”—Linda looked down at her phone for the time like a trainer clocking their stopwatch—”in ten minutes, we will meet at your office.”

Rosaline nodded again, her brain scrambling to retrieve information to figure out who Rainey was, and came up with nothing. She had been too distracted last week.

*****

A quick search in her inbox produced a few emails about Rainey, although she had no recollection of reading them. Scrolling, she skimmed through the emails, and yet the more she scrolled, the less she understood. This writer with only a last name—she assumed Rainey was a last name—apparently wrote political thrillers, which were not her genre.

Then she heard two sets of footsteps and Linda’s laughter approaching her office. Linda was laughing? Wait, they are here?

Rosaline threw her phone onto her desk, stood up and smoothed her sundress over her body to calm herself down. Too late to research; she just had to fake it until she made it, so she put on the brightest smile.

But as the tall dark shadow came into her view, her smile was chased away by recognition, confusion, then excitement, then—

Something was off.

Rosaline tracked her eyes over the familiar untamed dark hair, the mischievous dark eyes, that straight nose, the upturned curve of his lips. It was the stranger who haunted her dreams for the last week, but something was—she doubled back to those eyes.

That arrogant asshole knew.

She sucked in a sharp breath to contain the rioting emotions that coursed through her as realization came, and settled herself on the most accessible and tangible.

Glaring at Gabriel as much as it was appropriate under supervision, she let out a few deep breaths, while her treacherous heart decided to pick up its pacing at the sight of him without consulting her brain.

He grinned at her like a boy hiding candy behind his back; amusement returned to the depth of his eyes.

“Julia, this is Gabriel Rainey,” introduced Linda.

“Gabriel, this is Julia. This is unusual but as you requested, she will be working with you directly,” Linda continued her introduction, not yet aware of the underlying current that lapped between Rosaline and Gabriel.

“Gabriel,” Rosaline bit her word out; her smile so stiff on her face that it might shatter into pieces.

“Julia,” Gabriel said, returning her forced smile with his dazzling one.

She was not sure if she wanted to kiss him or strangle him.

Linda looked back and forth between Rosaline and Gabriel, her sensors picking up unusual frequencies, and she asked, “Did you know each other already?”

“Yes,” Rosaline and Gabriel said in unison, although Gabriel had the nerve to sound like he was happy about the situation. Of course, he was happy; he did not have to question the service people at the café.

Rosaline crossed her arms and pressed her lips together, while Gabriel smirked.

Linda took a long look at them, processing the information, and Rosaline was certain that she was about to get fired for unknowingly kissing a coworker because she did not prepare for this meeting; she did not even Google him as she was too busy interrogating baristas, asking about the same freaking man.

“Fantastic, I knew you are always prepared,” Linda said to Rosaline, already turning towards the door. “I will leave you two to it.”

She threw him a smile over her shoulder before she left the room.

Rosaline could not believe it. She had heard Linda laugh exactly three times since they met eight years ago, and each time it had sounded like her human simulation program needed debugging, but Gabriel had the editor in chief eating out of the palm of his hand in ten minutes.

Speaking of the devil himself. Rosaline swirled around to face him.

“Did you know?” Rosaline asked with a threatening tone, waiting to make sure Linda was well out of earshot.

“Oh hi, I’m fine, thank you for asking, and I missed you too,” Gabriel said with the same amusement that often danced around the corners of his eyes.

“You knew.” she said, ignoring his charm.

His humorous eyes bored into hers. She stared right back at him, fully intending to intimidate him, but her heart betrayed her by pounding harder again.

“I saw your email,” Gabriel said.

At least someone did. She shook her head.

Rosaline felt like a fool, pining for him for the last few days, paralyzed by her yearning, questioning her own future, while he knew who she was all along.

He knew who she was, her powers, her secret.

Propelled by that thought, she stalked towards him, but quickly realized her mistake as the small distance made the difference in their height more pronounced, and the air thinner. She only came eye to eye with his broad chest. The fresh mint smell drifted into her nose.

“You went through my phone?” Too late to back down, Rosaline angled her head and glared up at him, attempting to look threatening albeit her small frame, struggling to keep her voice neutral.

“No, your phone woke up from the notification,” he said. “I saw an email preview.”

She was replaying the events of that day in her mind, trying to recall the precise moment when any email had arrived, and then realization dawned on her before she could retrace more of her memory. “That’s why you didn’t ask for my number.”

“You didn’t ask for mine, either,” he said under his breath.

Rosaline snapped her attention back to him.

How dare he sound disappointed?

*****

“Look, I’m sorry, I should have told you about the email,” Gabriel said, trying to look apologetic.

He should not feel nearly as apologetic as he looked now, as none of this was part of the plan.

Well, technically this—getting her to be his editor so he could keep a close tab on her—was part of The Order’s elaborate plan to recruit her, but not the rest.

He took a step back from her space to perch on the edge of the desk so they could talk and look at each other in the eye.

Tracking her was not an easy task; after all, how did one track a runaway teenage girl with alleged mind control powers who wished not to be found?

But The Order was willing to exchange one member, in this case Gabriel, who had familial ties with the prominent members of the organization, with a runaway teenage girl, and Gabriel was more than happy to oblige, as long as it stayed his last job for the rich and the powerful.

And so there he was, observing Rosaline from a few tables away at the café. She was sipping tea and reading a book.

In theory, he knew she was not a teenage girl anymore, but that was when the plan started to take all sorts of detour, branching off like the lush hair around her shoulders.

The soft curls of her hair ran until just below her collarbones, resting on the gentle swell of her breasts, followed by the neckline of her wrap dress, which revealed just enough of her skin to make Gabriel wonder. Her shapely tanned legs crossed themselves elegantly under the table. Then she chuckled, and he found himself making his way towards her, walking away from his plan.

Nothing that happened afterwards was in the plan. Her chuckle when she looked up from the book was not part of the plan; the way he enjoyed indulging her in her murderous fantasy play was not part of the plan, the way he liked her smile and her smart mouth was not part of the plan.

And then there was that kiss. He had gotten more than enough information from her by then that he did not need to linger. But the thought that other men might even get the chance to glance at her stirred something primal in him and before he realized it, he was tasting her, basking in her warm short breaths and soft moans.

“I will tell Linda that this is not going to work,” she said, pulling him out of his trance.

As if he had seen this coming, and he had, Gabriel simply raised an eyebrow, challenging her.

He would be damned if he could not at least achieve one thing that was in the plan.

He eased himself more onto the desk and relaxed his posture, awaiting her to come up with excuses.

“You know too much,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance.

“Don’t you think that makes it imperative that you work with me?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying?”

He did not want to spell it out, so he remained silent.

“You can’t do that.”

He shrugged.

“But that is extortion,” she gasped.

“It only is if you refuse.”

“Did you plan the whole thing?” stepping closer to him, she asked.

He did, but he did not follow his plan. He shook his head. “No, like I said, I only found out later.”

“But you knew who I was when we kissed?”

At the thought of the kiss, his cock jerked. He shook his head, this time to shake off her jasmine taste.

“Consider me convinced of your powers.”

She closed her eyes at the words and Gabriel felt something constrict in his chest. He exhaled deeply, letting out the foreign feeling.

“I’m only saying, if you work with me, and your secret happens to get out, then you will know who to talk to,” he said, lifting his shoulders and one corner of his mouth.

“Why me?” she asked. “You could get any editor you want with your name.”

“I want you,” he said seductively.

“Be careful, men these days go to jail for saying things like that.”

“Now, who’s extorting who?”

“Whom.”

“See? What would I do without you?” He flashed her a devilish grin.

She looked as though she wanted to strangle him, hands fisted by her sides, ready to do him bodily harm.

Gabriel’s eyes skidded from her fists to the hem of her flowery sundress and glided to the skin behind the flowing material, and then he suddenly wished that she would come at him. Come for him.

He cleared his throat. “Be my editor, and your secret will be safe with me.”

“And we will be strictly professional?” She asked, her chin titled upwards, but there was doubt in her voice.

“Unless you wish for something else.” Or beg. He could make her beg him to kiss her on the mouth, on the tips of her full breasts, between her soft thighs.

Now that would be a lovely sight.

He shifted his position to hide his now massive erection and he was glad she was too focused on restraining herself from smacking him in the head to notice how turned on he was, and that snapped him out of something. The plan.

“Besides what are you going to tell Linda? That we kissed that’s why we can’t work with each other?” he asked. “It was only a kiss.”

It was not only a kiss, and Gabriel hated himself for sounding like that night meant nothing to him, but she did not correct him.

“Or are you going to tell her the truth about your identity?”

She stiffened at the words, and for that split second, he thought he had pushed too far.

He changed tack before she could consider his retort as a serious suggestion and ruin his plan. He softened his tone. “Just give me a chance.”

“To prove yourself an arrogant asshole?” she asked.

“I thought we already have enough evidence of that,” he said.

It was working; the muscles around the corner of her lips twisted. If she let go, it would become a beautiful smile, and against his better judgment, he would like to see that.

He pressed on when she did not respond, “It’s just a job, Rosaline. What do you have to lose?”

“You shouldn’t call me that around here.”

“But you like it.”

She pursed her lips before shaking her head. “I don’t like it when you say it. Not here.”

“We can find a softer place if you want.” He smirked, ignoring the first part and the pang it brought to his chest, even though he knew it was not true.

The blush rose from the columns of her neck, washing over her cheeks. Then she said softly, “You don’t mean it.”

He shook his head. “You were just threatening me with jail time.”

Her arms came up to wrap herself around her chest, and he looked away. Gabriel knew the physical consequence of such contact, he knew her soft breasts would overspill the neckline of the dress; he just did not want to witness it, did not trust himself to.

So he fought to keep his eyes trained on hers, and saw the hurt in her eyes before she blinked it away.

“How did you get the publisher to do everything you want?” she asked. “Political thrillers are not my genre.”

“I have my means.” And powerful people behind him; powerful people who apparently wanted this allegedly powerful girl.

“Of extortion.”

“Compulsory exchange of self interests for a mutually beneficial outcome.” He grinned at her.

“You sound desperate if you resort to arguing semantics.”

“The books don’t write themselves, do they?”

She pressed her lips together and darted her tongue out to wet them; she was only trying to suppress a laugh, of course. But he was lost to those red lips; he wanted to roll them between his own and be wrapped around by their warmth.

Oblivious to his torment, she chewed on her lower lip, showing him no mercy. The corners of her mouth stretched upwards, and when they blossomed into a smile, his heart stopped, and he spoke his mind.

“You have a beautiful smile,” he said and after a beat, “I mean it.”

Her eyes flew to his as colors flew to her cheeks. She studied his eyes, looking for assurance.

He let the silence stretch while her eyes flickered through a range of emotions, and in the end, determination settled.

He extended his hand. “Do we have an agreement?”

“Do I have a choice?” she asked dryly.

“You can always choose to tell the truth.”

Slowly, she reached out and took his hand in hers. Her hand was soft and small; her handshake the opposite.

This was all going according to plan.

*****

The purchase button shone brightly on the screen, beckoning Rosaline to click on it so it could take her to the next step of the digital checkout. Her cursor hovered on the button, rendering it a garish yellow, snarling and howling.

“Buy your ticket now and save up to 50%.” The popup window screamed in bright orange letters.

Rosaline sighed and closed her eyes, shutting away that revolting button, bringing her index fingers to her temples, trying to stop that incessant drumming underneath her skin.

She should leave. The Order had her phone number now, and as powerful as they were, it would only be a matter of time before they found an excuse to bypass privacy laws and started tracking her locations.

So why could she not click on the purchase button?

Her phone chimed then, the casual three-tone calendar notification offering her an inappropriately cheerful answer. “4 o’clock with Gabriel.” She muted it and tossed her phone on the desk like it had burned her.

It could not be because of him; for one, he blackmailed her into working with him for no good reason after she had mind-controlled him to kiss her, and he had made it clear multiple times during their first meeting that he actually had no intention of developing a romantic relationship with her despite the occasional teasing moments; those, she figured, were the remnants of her stupid wish.

And as if summoned by her thought of a romantic relationship, Gabriel sauntered in to her office with two cups of coffee and his laptop tugged under his arm, his strides confident, and his dark hair tousled.

Rosaline observed him from behind her screen when he put down one of the coffees on her coaster, his long fingers languidly releasing the cup. He then settled himself comfortably right across from her.

“Most people would thank me by now,” he said.

He crossed his legs, arm stretched along the armrest.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“I know.”

She looked to his eyes, then tracked his movements. He reached to rotate the cup on her coaster and revealed the tea bag label. It was jasmine tea.

“Oh,” she said, and after a beat, “You didn’t have to.”

“I can be nice to you, can’t I?”

She narrowed her gaze on him. “Nice or guilty?”

“I can’t think of any reason why I should feel guilty,” he said with a smirk.

She shot him a look. “For a writer, your memory is career-cripplingly short.”

“I remember we had an agreement,” he said, and added, “Among other things.”

She tried to ignore the other things to which he referred and failed. Her gaze dropped to his lips. She blushed at the memory of the first day that they met. The first kiss they shared.

The only kiss because it would not happen again.

“You coerced me into agreeing,” she said.

He made a sound that vibrated deep from within his throat. “And a certain someone with magical wishes is completely innocent at manipulating my throughs.”

“You asked me to prove it.”

“And I’m glad I did.” He smiled, crinkles around his eyes.

“It won’t happen again,” she said with determination, more to convince herself than him.

“I can’t imagine why. We have such good chemistry,” he said, smirking.

“Had,” she said.

His smirk turned into a broad smile as he kept his eyes on hers, the slanted sunlight playing tricks on the colors of his eyes. They were one moment the darkness of the deepest night and the next the warmth of roasted chestnuts.

“Was your poor command of English tenses so amusing?” she asked as her cheeks warmed to the intensity of his gaze.

“You didn’t deny the good chemistry.”

He looked like a kid who discovered a hideout in the forest, who could not wait to tell his friends, and Rosaline’s heart warmed to the idea of him looking happy.

Unfortunate timing, indeed. She looked to the purchase ticket tab tucked away in her browser.