She’s breathtaking, and I can’t stop watching her...her eyes, her smile, her mesmerized expression as we dance together. It’s strange for me because she works for me and...I don’t think I’ve ever danced this way with a woman before and really, truly enjoyed it.
But she gets me.
She doesn’t care that I used to be weak or...
Or that I still can be, at times.
I lost it last night and I’ll be the first one to admit that. Kimberly got me so damn fired up though, that I couldn’t think straight. All I kept thinking about was how selfish she was, how quick she was to take the money I offered her. She didn’t care about the boys at all. She was trying to prove a point to me with them, and that was all. I blamed Abbey, and then...I blamed Austin because he came into the room.
I scared the shit out of both of them. I took off my belt like my father used to do to me, and almost beat my brother with it. If it hadn’t been for Abbey I don’t know what would have happened either.
I never...I never want to be that angry again.
I went to my room after Abbey went to bed, and just...lied awake, thinking about everything that had happened since I left home. I’d come so far, I’d forgotten about so much, and when I was landed with my brothers they started reminding me of what I left behind. I couldn’t deal with them. I didn’t know how. Davey was easier to please because he didn’t talk and just needed a little bit of love, but Austin was another story. He had a lot of anger in him, just like I did...
And Abbey showed me what was happening to him, how withdrawn he was becoming due to my negligence.
I need to be gentler, spend more quality time talking about his issues with him if I can, but It’s just like...fuck, I have so much coming up at work at the same time. I just don’t know if I have the energy to do both, and work...work will always come first. Business prevails. It always has and always will because money is my life.
Before the boys came along, Trace and I were thinking up a way to branch out from the firm a little bit. A hotel came to mind, because Trump had started doing it, and it was how he made most of his fortune. I knew we could pull it off, because we’d already conquered the stock market. We just needed a good image for the place, something different that would make people want to pay top dollar to stay there. Location was key, and right before I got word that my parents passed, we found the perfect spot between midtown and the theater district to build it. We began to partner with an architect, and some of the top interior designers in New York, to make our dream a reality.
Then I got the call, and everything seemed to stop.
Now that things are getting back to normal, Trace has pressured me back into breaking ground. I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to do it. I do...I’m just not so sure how successful we’ll be. I’ve seen a lot of successful people try to build hotels, restaurants and nightclubs, only to fail miserably months later. Would I go broke if the place bombed? Of course not, but we would still lose money, and I would be fucking embarrassed. I guess I just need some kind of sure sign that we’ll be successful with this whole thing, only I have no idea where I can find one. Trace isn’t going to wait around forever either. This is more of his brain child than it is mine, and he’s eager to make his big money. Yeah, he’s rich, but he’s only making the money he does because of me. I know he wants a name for himself instead of just ‘Justin Timberlake’s business partner.’
I can’t blame him.
I wouldn’t want to live in my best friend’s shadow either, especially if I was the one who helped get him to the top.
I’ll focus on the project on Monday though, have a conference with my board, and one privately with Trace. I want to get this exactly right. For now though, I’ll worry about the weekend, stay happy because my benefit is going great. I’m going to have to get Cheryl some kind of gift. She wrote me one hell of a speech, and now the donation boxes are going to fill up because of it. I’m pleased. Pleased with the turn out and pleased that people believe in what I’m trying to do. It’s strange that they all look up to me. Most of these people are in their late thirties, early forties. I’m still a kid compared to them, but for some reason I have all the power. I can influence them...get them to do anything I want.
The rush is incredible.
“Why are you smirking?”
I focus on her again. She’s so damn nervous, I know she is. I can’t lie, I know all eyes are on us right now as we dance. All these people want to know who Abbey is, how long I’ve been with her, how we met.
If they knew she was the nanny they’d probably die of shock.
I mean, it’s not exactly common, bringing the help to an event like this. Most of these people would never bring their hired help around their friends. They’re too stuck up. Okay, I’ll admit, I wouldn’t bring Lucinda around these people either. Abbey is different though. She can pass as one of us, and I made sure she could when I sent her to Roberta. Of course, I wasn’t intending on being blown away by her tonight. When she made her appearance at the top of my stairs, I was expecting to see my nanny. The girl that was raising my brothers for me.
I didn’t expect to see...well...the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in a really, really long time.
I was breathless. I couldn’t stop staring at her.
She knew it too, and that’s dangerous. One thing every man knows, is that you should never ever let a woman know how much of a hold she has on you, unless you’re ready to get serious.
And I’m not. At all.
I can’t afford to be captivated by any woman. Having fun is as far as I go. That’s how it’s been since I started on Wall Street and I have no intention on changing my ways.
“I was just thinking,” I say with a light laugh. “I’m just happy I guess. The event is going really well. I’m going to raise a lot of money tonight.”
She bows her head for a moment, before meeting my gaze again. “I think it’s really great...what you’re doing. I guess I just wish you would put this much effort into other things.”
I sigh. It figures she would guilt trip me right now. She’s got me cornered out here on the dance floor, and I can’t exactly run away. Too many people are watching, and I don’t need rumors being spread about me. “I’m trying,” I mutter. “I’ll try harder.”
“As long as you try,” she rolls her eyes.
“Hey,” I grip her waist a little tighter and pull her slightly closer to me. “Are you always this uptight? Can’t you just enjoy the evening? I mean, no kids...no work, I’m sure as hell having the time of my life. You should be too.”
Her eyes get sad, as if there’s something she wishes she could explain, but she just won’t. “This isn’t the same for me as it is for you. This is work.”
I sigh. “That wasn’t my intention. Not completely.”
“You basically threatened my job,” she mutters. “I had no choice.”
“So you’re sorry that you’re here,” I nod sadly. I mean, hell, I didn’t meant to make her this miserable. Sure, I shouldn’t have been as harsh with her when I told her I needed her to be my date. I was just...desperate. I have to learn to calm down.
I’m starting to learn just how valuable Abbey is. I can’t lose her, but I will if I keep pushing her around, ordering her around like she’s some kind of slave. She’s opened my eyes just a little bit...maybe even...opened my heart. I don’t know though.
That’s silly.
“I’m...I’m sorry,” she sighs. “I just...it’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”
I raise an eyebrow. There’s more to her. A deep emotional kind of more that isn’t really any of my business. I’ve seen the look on her face before. Sometimes, when she’s not paying attention, I’ll watch her as she sits on the sofa watching the news. Part of her just won’t be there. It’s like she’s gone off someplace else that nobody can touch. “What...danced?”
She presses her lips together. “Yeah, I guess.”
“We can stop,” I whisper, not realizing how close she’s gotten to me until I feel her head resting against my chest.
“I don’t know if I want to. That’s probably the worst thing. It’s...nice, doing this. It makes me feel rotten inside that I’m enjoying myself.”
I smirk a little bit and gaze down at her. “You wanna talk about it?”
She glances up at me, unsure, afraid. “I don’t know why the hell I feel okay talking about it with you. You’re the last person I should want to talk to about anything.”
It doesn’t shock me, of course. We’ve basically only tolerated each other up until last night. Something just...clicked today. This morning, walking through the park with her. It felt different. It felt...right, strangely enough. It was like, I was supposed to be with her. I could feel it, but I quickly tucked those feelings away. It wasn’t possible. I would hurt her. I stopped thinking about it. Then my phone rang, and I was so fuckin’ thankful. “We can just dance then,” I whisper.
She’s silent for a while as I continue to hold her against me while we dance slowly together. It’s a natural reaction when I reach up to run my fingers through her hair. She looks up at me suddenly, and when I let my hand fall onto her cheek, she puts hers over mine. She doesn’t push it away though. She keeps it there.
“You said you don’t understand why I have no social life,” she tells me.
“I...I was just talking,” I say quickly. “You don’t have to explain anything.”
“You should know. I mean, it’s not exactly normal. Anybody else would be escaping your house and the kids on the weekends to have fun. But I...I haven’t wanted to have fun in years, Justin. I just...don’t. I tolerate life. The only reason I took this job with you is because my best friend practically kicked me out of her house so I would. I’ve been a shut in. I needed money so I applied for the job, but that was the only reason why. At first I just...I hated it, being in your house.”
I nod, but don’t say anything. She’s spilling her guts to me on tonight of all nights, and I’ll let her, because I have no idea when we’ll have a moment like this again to ourselves.
“But the boys, they...they make me want to be better,” she admits. “I couldn’t leave them. They make me forget about what happened.” She sighs and sucks in her lower lip. “My boyfriend...Braeden, he was in the army. He went missing in Afghanistan six years ago while he was on a mission. They...they pronounced him legally dead, and I basically fell apart.”
This is why she gets me. I realize it quickly. She lost somebody, and by the looks of it, he was the love of her life too. I’m really bad with emotional shit. Just like at the funeral with my brothers, I just stare at her, not knowing what to say. I blink a few times...she stares at me, the tears creeping quietly down her cheeks. We’ve stopped dancing now. “I’m...I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Yeah. I...God, I’m an idiot. Just forget it.” She pulls herself out of my arms, and runs away from me.
“Abbey!” I yell out to her, and can feel the stares I’m getting from my guests as I run through the place, but I just don’t care. She can’t just run off on me. “Abbey wait!”
She slips in the hallway, falls down on the floor right before the exit, and starts to sob into her hands. “Hey.” I crouch down, and thank the heavens that there are no more people walking in and out right now. “It’s...it’s okay...”r32;
“It’s not okay,” she sobs, and picks her head up from her hands. “It’s never going to be okay, Justin. I’m sick of people telling me that it will be, that I should just...stop loving him!”
“You don’t have to stop loving him,” I say, my voice quivering as I sit down on the floor with her. Weird, this is so unlike me, comforting somebody. “Nobody can make you stop.”
But fuck...maybe I might be starting to care about her, just a little.
Shit. This isn’t supposed to happen.
But I can’t stop myself.
“I just wish I knew what happened to him,” she whimpers. “I wish somebody would find something...tell me something. It’s the worst part, not knowing. I mean, they pronounced him dead but they never found his body. What if he’s still out there? It’s all I think about, and...and if he is alive, how can I help him? I can’t. He could be sick, or he could have lost his memory. Sometimes, I just pray that he really is dead, because I don’t want him to suffer, you know? But it’s hard. It’s so fucking hard and then...then I have to plaster a smile on my face for you...”
She gasps and looks up at me, like she knows she said something she shouldn’t have. But I’m not angry. No, because I get it. I’m a fucking asshole to her, and there’s no reason for it. “I shouldn’t be making things this difficult.” I whisper. “I...I’ve never...had a reason to care about somebody else before.”
She nods and wipes at her eyes, smearing her mascara. “I’m sorry that I just freaked out. It was dumb.”
I shake my head and smile a little bit. “I’m glad you did.”
I help her to her feet, and instead of pulling her back in the room right away, I pull her close to me, and we hug. We hug for a long time, and it’s the first real genuine thing I’ve ever done with her before. It’s like we can be friends now. Just friends, but that’s okay.
I need her to be my friend, and I think she needs me to be hers as well.
I think we might be able to help each other out.
“Hey, Justin.”
I snap to attention, but don’t stop holding her and we both look towards the doorway that leads back into the ballroom. Trace is standing there, smirking a little bit, and I can feel Abbey pressing her face into my chest. “What’s up?” I say, slightly irritated with him for catching me like this.
“Trump is here. He wants to talk to us about the hotel,” he smiles.
I should go. It’s an amazing opportunity, getting to talk to the guy one on one.
“I can’t right now,” I whisper.
He stands there, seemingly appalled at what I just said. “What?”
“Just go ahead. Schedule an appointment for him to meet with me next week.”
“Dude are you fuckin’ high? You don’t make appointments with Trump. We need this,” he pleads. “Come on.”
“Go,” Abbey whispers. “You should go.”
I sigh harshly. She expects me to ditch her. That’s not how I want things to be anymore. I want her to be able to rely on me, because I rely on her for way too much. “We’ll talk...tomorrow, okay?”
She just nods, and puts a hand over her mouth as she quickly rushes back into the ball room.
“What the hell is going on?” Trace says, looking back over his shoulder as he steps out into the hallway. “What did you say to her?”
“She was telling me something,” I say, my expression stern. “She needed a friend.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Now you’re friends with this girl?”
I shrug. “Is that so terrible?”
“I dunno. She’s the god damn hired help, and she almost distracted you from going to talk to fucking Donald Trump? What the hell happened to you?”
“Just fuck off, Trace,” I try to brush past him, but he stands in my way. “What? Let’s go.”
“Don’t tell me to fuck off,” he sneers. “I’m busting my ass to get this plan up and running, and all you can do is cuddle with the god damn nanny.”
He’s right. I’m fucking moronic for becoming distracted. I mean, Donald Trump is here at my benefit. He wants to talk to me. He sought me out on his own, and that’s so huge. So huge and was just about blow it all off for Abbey. What the hell am I doing? Snap out of it, Justin. “Sorry,” I huff. “I just...my head was in another place.”
“Next time, don’t dress up the nanny,” he says, finally smiling a little bit again. “Bring some other bitch who you couldn’t possibly have feelings for.”
He tugs me back into the ballroom before I can get another word out. I look around, and spot Abbey at our table sitting with Sydney. They’re talking, so maybe that’s good, even though I can’t stand Sydney.
“Mr. Timberlake.”
I smile as I shake Donald Trumps hand. He’s sitting at a table in the far corner, most likely to make his appearance here more discreet. “It’s an honor sir,” I force a professional smile and put Abbey...put everything that just happened completely out of my head.
“What do you think about...merging?”
I look at Trace and he’s smirking, like he’s ready to jump in the air and scream ‘yipeeee’. “Sir?”r32;
“I’m interested in doing business together, Mr. Timberlake. You’re the most brilliant entrepreneur I’ve come across in my many years on Wall Street. I believe, with some hard work, we could do amazing things together. Mr. Ayala was telling me you were both interested in getting started in the hotel business. I thought that we could partner together, start a whole new line of hotels, not just here...but all over the world. Would you be interested?”
I’d say ‘hell yes,’ but that would probably sound juvenile. I want to sound like my professional self. The one who intimidated Mr. Trump enough to make him come down here and talk to me. “I think I might be able to consider that. We should have a meeting though, properly. Maybe next Wednesday afternoon? That’s the most convenient time for me.”
I think Trace’s jaw is going to hit the table in a moment.
Trump laughs. He’s getting a kick out of me. “You’re not swindled easily, Mr. Timberlake. I like that. I’ll have my secretary clear my schedule for next Wednesday. Tell me, do you like golf?”
I smile for him. “Sure, I’m not so bad.”
He nods, and stands up. Trace does the same, and I quickly follow.
“I’ll see you then, son. My assistant will call you with the location of the game and the tee time.”
We shake hands, and he leaves my Gala with two other men who look to be his private security personnel. I start laughing hysterically when he finally disappears from my view, and I have to sit down as I start to laugh even harder. I just ordered around probably the most powerful man in New York City, and he bowed down to me without a question.
Well, at least he used to be the most powerful.
“Dude, you’re fucking ridiculous.” Trace plops down into the chair across from me and I can tell that he’s trembling. “That could have went south, so fast...”
“But it didn’t.” I point at him, and smile. “So just shut up. We’re going to be swimming in more money than we ever thought possible by the time this deal is done.”
“I need a drink.” He huffs and pushes himself to his feet.
I watch him walk away, and sit at the table in silence for a moment. Sure it’s an awesome opportunity, and it’ll be fun, and challenging and include everything I love about the business world. At the same time though, I know it’s going to be just as I thought...more work than I can imagine. I’ll never be home, and I’m sure since Trump is involved I’ll be going on business trip after business trip.
There won’t be time for the boys, or to connect with Abbey.
But I’m not giving this up. I’ve worked seven years for this kind of opportunity. It’s the most important thing. It is.
Like I said, I can’t afford to be distracted...by anybody. Thank God for Trace. For a moment there, I thought I’d lost my senses or something. Comforting the girl? I’m not her confidant. I can’t be. I’m Justin Timberlake, CEO. Busiest man in New York City. I can’t stop. I can’t let myself have feelings for her. That’s how life gets complicated.
I can’t afford it.
I’m better off alone.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to Lora for the banner! You can see it on the top of chapter one!
Story Tags: triangles justinandtrace executivej
