keyboard and drum against the keys. Screw it. I open the email and it’s just two words.
‘Forgive me.’
What? He hasn’t done anything to be forgiven for. Has he? I decide to check my voice mails, starting with the latest one from Jodi: “Hi, Ali. I know you’re recouping from your trip and I want to hear all about it. However, I should warn you about something first. Mr. Steede called the office today and insisted he needed to get in touch with you, something about the upcoming shoot? I wasn’t available, but Trina, my new hire, gave him your number and email address. I wanted to give you a heads up. Hope you’re having a great evening and we’ll talk on Monday.”
Oh. So that explains Bryce’s cryptic email. Jodi doesn’t answer when I call her back. Noticing I have another message, it’s from Bryce. I close my eyes and inhale deeply as I listen.
“Ms. Quinn, I hope you don’t get too angry with your assistant for giving me your contact information, hence my email to you asking for your forgiveness. I need to talk to you about what happened yesterday at the restaurant. I feel I owe you an explanation.” He leaves his number. Of course, he was the ‘unknown.’ People like him don’t have public numbers.
He doesn’t owe me an explanation for anything. Should I call and listen to what he has to say? Do I want to know what he has to say? I don’t know why, but yes, I do. His message piqued my interest.
I load up on more wine before making the call, bringing the bottle with me. Listening to the message again, nothing in his voice, just like his expressions, gives anything away. I take a deep breath and dial. He probably won’t answer. It’s Friday night, and I’m sure he has someone’s legs draped over his shoulders right now.
After a couple of rings, I decide I should hang up. Then I hear his voice on the other end. It takes me a minute to determine it’s not his voice mail. “Bryce Steede,” he answers in his deep, authoritative voice.
“Mr. Steede. This is Alixandra Quinn. I understand you need to speak with me about the upcoming photo shoot?” I’m going to keep this professional.
“I’m glad you called. Please, call me Bryce. I do need to speak with you but not about the session. Didn’t you get my message?” He sounds confused.
“Yes, I got your message. Since this isn’t about the photo shoot, I don’t know what we have to talk about.” As I say it, I’m curious to know the reason for his call.
“What happened yesterday with Mara, won’t happen again. She came to the airport after I told her not to and I’m not in the habit of creating a public scene.” He sounds apologetic as he continues, “I told you yesterday why we were at the restaurant and I’m guessing from your reaction at the valet, you assumed we left together. We didn’t.” I don’t know why but relief radiates throughout my whole body at his confession. I have the need to remain cautious though.
“Mr. Steede, what you do is your business and doesn’t concern me and you certainly don’t need to explain yourself.” As I say it, I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. Why does he have this effect on me? It must be the wine.
“Ali, I feel I do. I’m cutting to the chase, here. I want to see you again and need you to understand I’m not with her. I’d like to take you to dinner. I’ve been thinking of you ever since seeing you at the charity function. Then meeting and talking with you in New York, and flying with you yesterday, I can’t get you off my mind.” Not at all the reaction I would expect from a CEO. Behind that title though, he’s still a man.
“Mr. Steede, you were more than kind on the plane, but that’s as far as it goes for me.” I’m not in the habit of going out with men so they can carve another notch in their bedpost. I’ve seen the pictures of him out and about with several different women. Hell,
‘Forgive me.’
What? He hasn’t done anything to be forgiven for. Has he? I decide to check my voice mails, starting with the latest one from Jodi: “Hi, Ali. I know you’re recouping from your trip and I want to hear all about it. However, I should warn you about something first. Mr. Steede called the office today and insisted he needed to get in touch with you, something about the upcoming shoot? I wasn’t available, but Trina, my new hire, gave him your number and email address. I wanted to give you a heads up. Hope you’re having a great evening and we’ll talk on Monday.”
Oh. So that explains Bryce’s cryptic email. Jodi doesn’t answer when I call her back. Noticing I have another message, it’s from Bryce. I close my eyes and inhale deeply as I listen.
“Ms. Quinn, I hope you don’t get too angry with your assistant for giving me your contact information, hence my email to you asking for your forgiveness. I need to talk to you about what happened yesterday at the restaurant. I feel I owe you an explanation.” He leaves his number. Of course, he was the ‘unknown.’ People like him don’t have public numbers.
He doesn’t owe me an explanation for anything. Should I call and listen to what he has to say? Do I want to know what he has to say? I don’t know why, but yes, I do. His message piqued my interest.
I load up on more wine before making the call, bringing the bottle with me. Listening to the message again, nothing in his voice, just like his expressions, gives anything away. I take a deep breath and dial. He probably won’t answer. It’s Friday night, and I’m sure he has someone’s legs draped over his shoulders right now.
After a couple of rings, I decide I should hang up. Then I hear his voice on the other end. It takes me a minute to determine it’s not his voice mail. “Bryce Steede,” he answers in his deep, authoritative voice.
“Mr. Steede. This is Alixandra Quinn. I understand you need to speak with me about the upcoming photo shoot?” I’m going to keep this professional.
“I’m glad you called. Please, call me Bryce. I do need to speak with you but not about the session. Didn’t you get my message?” He sounds confused.
“Yes, I got your message. Since this isn’t about the photo shoot, I don’t know what we have to talk about.” As I say it, I’m curious to know the reason for his call.
“What happened yesterday with Mara, won’t happen again. She came to the airport after I told her not to and I’m not in the habit of creating a public scene.” He sounds apologetic as he continues, “I told you yesterday why we were at the restaurant and I’m guessing from your reaction at the valet, you assumed we left together. We didn’t.” I don’t know why but relief radiates throughout my whole body at his confession. I have the need to remain cautious though.
“Mr. Steede, what you do is your business and doesn’t concern me and you certainly don’t need to explain yourself.” As I say it, I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. Why does he have this effect on me? It must be the wine.
“Ali, I feel I do. I’m cutting to the chase, here. I want to see you again and need you to understand I’m not with her. I’d like to take you to dinner. I’ve been thinking of you ever since seeing you at the charity function. Then meeting and talking with you in New York, and flying with you yesterday, I can’t get you off my mind.” Not at all the reaction I would expect from a CEO. Behind that title though, he’s still a man.
“Mr. Steede, you were more than kind on the plane, but that’s as far as it goes for me.” I’m not in the habit of going out with men so they can carve another notch in their bedpost. I’ve seen the pictures of him out and about with several different women. Hell,
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