Unlocking my Boss’s Heart (Romance in Sweet Comedy #4)

2. Celia

Chapter two

Celia

T he taxi driver didn’t give me my change or offer a hand with my suitcase. Once it was out of the trunk, he drove off, narrowly missing another car. Lesson learned: always get your change first.

I wrestled my bags onto the curb, struggling to balance the duffel bag on my shoulder. Maddison, my cousin, had warned me about New Yorkers being in constant rush, and from what I’d seen in just two hours, she wasn’t wrong.

I dialed her number, holding onto my suitcase for dear life.

She answered immediately. “Hey, Celia! Are you here yet?”

“I’m in front of your apartment building,” I said.

Her excited shriek came through the phone, making me flinch. “Hold tight, I’ll be down in a second!” she squealed, hanging up abruptly.

A man hurried down the steps and bumped into me as he rushed to hail a cab. I frowned. If this was Manhattan, how could I ever feel at home here? I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between this bustling city and the slow-paced, neighborly culture of Texas. Was I experiencing cultural shock in my own country?

I shook off the thought. I’d dreamt of moving to New York for years. A little stress from the move wasn’t going to deter me now. I couldn’t go back to my small-town life. This was the start of my new adventure.

I struggled up the building’s steps with my suitcase. As I reached the top, Maddison burst through the lobby door, her arms wide open. Her cinnamon scent enveloped me as she pulled me into a tight hug.

“Aww, my baby cousin, I’ve missed you!” she said, kissing my cheek.

“I missed you, too,” I managed, my ribs creaking under her embrace.

At that moment, all my stress and worries from moving halfway across the country washed away in the comfort of her arms. My duffel bag slid off my shoulder as I steadied myself. Maddison picked it up for me. Once we entered the foyer and closed the door, I got a good look at her.

Only a year older than me, we were about the same height and body type. But our coloring was different. I was blonde, she was brunette, and liked to dye her hair.

I fingered the length of her long, dark, wavy hair. “Love the color.”

“It’s okay, I guess.” She grinned, waving me in to follow her up to her apartment. “I liked the blue better, but the new dress code at work doesn’t allow for wild colors.” She rolled her eyes heavenward as she said the last words in a mocking tone.

As we took the stairs to the third floor, Maddison gave me specific instructions. I was to avoid the man with the constellation tattoo on his face, he begged for change to buy cigarettes. On Thursdays, all the dumpsters were full, so there was no point in emptying the trash that day. Finally, if a woman named Mrs. Woods gifted me any baked items, I should bring them directly to Maddison to inspect.

I laughed at that last rule.

“Why? Does she poison them?” I ventured. I heard about people adding enhancing substances into brownies and things like that.

Maddison unlocked the door.

“No, she’s an older widow with too much time on her hands. And apparently an inexhaustible amount of flour. A slice of her apple pie is so good that I swear there's witchcraft involved.”

That answer gave me a hearty laugh.

She entered her apartment—now my apartment, too—and invited me inside with an exaggerated wave of her hand.

My eyes scanned the tiny living room, and I felt my face break into a smile. The place was smaller than I was used to back home, but cozy. I could see Maddison's hand in the peachy design. Each piece of furniture had her print on it. The two-seater couch was blue with little stars scattered over the fabric. A set of velvety pillows was plumped on one side, reminding me of the hair on the Troll Dolls we’d played with as kids.

I left the rolling suitcase behind and walked further in. The kitchen opposite the main door was tidy and small, the cupboards painted the same peach color as the wallpaper in the living room. Two tiny windows let in some much-needed natural light. Small plants littered the windowsills, the space above the kitchen cabinets, and the corners of the living room.

“Wow,” I said.

“Like it?” She chuckled, closing the front door behind her.

I nodded. “This place is so cute and inviting. You certainly know how to make a place your own.”

“Don’t tell me bull. I know our styles differed, but I thought you would like this.”

“Maddy, I really like it! And that’s the truth.”

“Thanks! I wanted it to feel like a little haven. It’s way smaller than your Texas ranch, but it’s homey.” Grabbing my hand, she led me down a short hallway. “Let me show you to your room.”

She opened the door on the left.

The room was small, matching the size of the apartment. A twin bed, a nightstand, and a short bookcase against one wall made up the space. The cream paint was spotless. There was a louvered closet door next to the bookshelves and a small window above the bed. The window boasted a view of the neighboring brick building. It would certainly be an adjustment from the wide-open view I was used to.

“See? A blank canvas,” Maddison said, making me laugh. She walked to the window. “I hope the fresh paint smell isn’t too much, I thought the color might brighten things up a bit.”

“It’s actually perfect. It gives the room a warm, inviting feel.”

She picked up a small planter sitting on the windowsill and held it out. A tiny succulent was inside the pot. “His name is Frederick,” she said.

Chuckling at her eccentricities, I took the planter to take a good look at my new companion. “Do you always name your plants?”

She beamed. “I do. The landlord won’t allow pets, so the plants are replacements for the cat I would have otherwise. Play music for him. They like it.”

I’d never heard of such a thing as playing music for a plant, but I wouldn’t argue with her. Everyone knew Maddison was the green thumb in the family. And despite growing up on a ranch and helping my mother with our garden, I definitely hadn’t inherited that trait. Usually, plants committed suicide in my presence.

Maddison planted her hands on her hips with a look of satisfaction. She turned to me and hugged me around the neck again. “Can you believe it? We’re finally living together!”

“I’m excited too, but I won’t lie—I’m a little anxious. New York is a big leap from Texas.”

It took less than two hours to unpack. The few clothes I brought with me hung in the minuscule closet with room to spare, and on the bookshelf, my five favorite novels looked lonely for company. The only thing that sat on the nightstand was a small blue lamp that reflected tiny stars when lit in the dark room: Maddison’s one design touch. She had always been eclectic, but I would allow it. The bare walls and minimal furniture made the room feel more like a cave than a sanctuary, but I would turn it into a cozy space in no time.

I had purposely packed minimally because I wanted to start afresh in my new life here. But now, as I stared at my sadly bare room, and realized I needed to fill the space with things that would make me feel at home in this big, unfamiliar city.

Was it too late to go shopping? It wouldn't hurt to go exploring and see a bit more of NYC than the drive from the airport. By foot would be best, I didn’t have the courage to venture out on another taxi excursion yet. The drive from JFK into the city had been a whirlwind of honking, weaving through traffic at fingernail-biting speeds, and yelling from the cab driver.

Maddison had music playing in the kitchen as she cooked, and the sound made me relax a little. We were both only children and had grown up more like sisters than cousins. People had warned us that living together would put a strain on our friendship, but I wasn’t worried.

Along with having a sibling figure in my life, I could also see how two girls cohabitating in New York City fared.

For now, I was glad not to come home to an empty apartment after job-searching. And who knew, instead of moving out after getting a job, I might stay here until I rise up in my lawyer career and become a top one as I envisioned. Then, I would find Mr. Right, settle down, and have a family.

I sat on my bed and checked my phone for local attractions. My fingers automatically clicked on my email first. Back in Texas, my job at a boutique law firm had required me to be accessible most of the time. Over the last two years, I’d developed the habit of compulsively checking my emails, something my old-fashioned father had scolded me about on more than one occasion.

As I scrolled through the messages, a job posting in a legal newsletter caught my eye. A high-profile law firm, Waltons & Associates, had an opening for a junior associate. Applications would only be accepted until midnight tonight, and any shortlisted candidates would appear at the office for an interview tomorrow.

I paused, biting my lower lip.

My initial plan was to settle in and then start looking for a job. But this one sounded too good to pass up. It offered outstanding benefits, and the pay was more than double my salary at my previous firm. But did I even have a chance of being hired? This was a big New York firm. They were sure to get dozens of applicants—lawyers who had much more experience than me.

For a minute, I felt intimidated, a bitter taste filled my mouth.

I quickly pushed aside that defeatist attitude. Didn’t starting a new life in New York mean taking a few risks? They might pay off.

With that conviction, I made up my mind and applied for the job.

When I was satisfied with the application, I went in search of Maddison. She was dancing in the kitchen, a wooden spoon over her head.

Laughing, I sat at a barstool in front of the kitchen counter. “Whatcha making?” I asked.

“Oh, you know me. Throwing together a dinner out of random ingredients in the cupboards. How do you feel about tomato sauce and ramen?” Maddison asked in a mockingly serious tone.

I let out a short laugh. “Umm, as a combination? I’m not sure. Do you intend to put the ramen flavoring in the tomato sauce?”

“Of course. Keep up. I also thought about frying up an over-easy egg to put on top.” Maddison turned back to the stove and stirred the noodles, steam rising rapidly from the pot.

I shook my head, getting up from the barstool. Maddison may be a green thumb, but a chef, she was not.

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought to put those flavors together, but good luck with that.” I got up. “I’m going shopping before the stores close. You want to come with me?” I asked, still a little intimidated by the Big Apple but knowing I had to get used to it eventually.

“This is Manhattan, cous, a city that never sleeps. The stores don’t really close.” She dipped the wooden spoon into the mixture and licked it, smacked her lips, then shrugged and put the spoon back in the pot. “I wish I could come with you, but I have a rehearsal to practice. If you wait until tomorrow, I’ll join you.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Right now, I want to get out. It’s exciting to be here, and a walk around would help me get the jitters out of my system.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Plus, I need an outfit, just in case I get a call for a big law firm interview. Fingers crossed, I’ll have one scheduled for tomorrow. Any suggestions for a boutique with smart business attire that aren’t too expensive?”

“Sure thing. I'll share some places with you via your map app.” She wiped her hands on a towel and went to retrieve her phone.

“Thank you!”

I went back to my room and got my phone and purse, excited to see more of the city. When Maddison rejoined me, four new locations appeared on my map app.

She handed me a keyring with two keys dangling from it. “I’ll be gone by the time you get back. This is the key to the building, and this one is to the apartment.” She hugged me and pressed a long, thin tube into my hand. It was bright pink. “Here, put this on your keyring, just in case.”

My head snapped up. “Mace?”

“Hmm.” She nodded in confirmation. “You know how to use it, right?”

“Yes, but will I really need it?” I gulped, the reality of living in a big city coming crashing down on me.

Did I really have what it took to survive here?

“It’s better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. Here, share your location with me. That way, we can keep tabs on each other.”

I did as she instructed, feeling a little better when I saw the little white dot pulsating from the map in the Find My Friend app. Mine was blue, overlapping with hers, and it gave me a sense of safety, knowing we would check on each other.

“I haven’t had any problems in all the years I’ve lived here, but since you don’t know the city yet, you don’t want to venture too far, too late. If you do, take a taxi back here.”

I rolled my eyes and extricated myself from her grasp as she smoothed my hair down.

“Yes, Mother. I feel like a five-year-old,” I quipped.

Even though she was only a year older than me, she still treated me like her little chick at times. At twenty-six, I couldn’t say I didn’t appreciate it. But I’d been taking care of myself for a long time at this point.

I took one last glance in her direction, and she kissed the ends of her fingers, blowing to me as I left.

Once outside, I took a deep breath. The smell of stale cigarette smoke, car exhaust, and food being cooked in a nearby hole-in-the-wall restaurant assaulted my senses as I walked down the sidewalk. Car horns exploded from every direction, bouncing off the high-rise brick apartment buildings.

Greenwich Village was as eclectic as Maddison’s apartment, historically a haven for artists and creatives. The shops were small and charming. No wonder Maddison had been thrilled when I’d asked to stay with her while I got on my feet. The rent was high here, but with we us splitting the apartment expenses, it would take a huge strain off us both and allow her to focus on her acting aspirations during her spare time.

Thankfully, I had saved a good chunk of change over the last two years of my law career, having stayed at home with my parents instead of getting a place of my own. If I could get a job lined up as soon as possible, I would be in a good financial space.

People brushed by me, stumbled into me, there was an energy here that was unlike any other place I’d ever been.

I grew up in a small town where houses and properties were spaced out. In contrast, here, it seemed like everyone was living on top of each other. Glancing up at the towering high-rise apartments, it wasn’t too far from the truth.

There were so many shops and restaurants around that I made notes of places I wanted to check out later, like the small pizza restaurant emanating a heavenly aroma. There was a short line out the door, so I was sure the pizza would be delicious.

I found suitable attire for an interview at the first clothing boutique I visited. Out of the store, I noticed a bookstore next door. I glanced at the time on my phone and figured I could spare a few minutes browsing the shelves before it got dark.

Following Maddison’s advice, I hurried in.

A small bell chimed above the door, and a teenage girl looked up from the register.

“Hello,” she greeted with a warm smile.

I smiled back. “Hi.”

The bookshelves were high, and every inch was filled with books. There were classics and foreign-translated books, more than half of the room was dedicated to the more popular, just-released books.

I perused the shelves and couldn’t decide what to pick. Back in Texas, my shelves had filled an entire wall. It’d been painful to leave all the books behind but impractical to ship them here. The only thing that comforted me was that I’d put them in storage and could always access them later.

My indecision must have lasted longer than I thought because a high-pitched voice came from the register. “We’re closing in fifteen minutes.”

The bell by the front door chimed, indicating someone else entering the store. The girl at the register relayed the same message to the newcomer, and a deep voice answered that they understood.

I picked up a hardcover novel that had been translated from Japanese to English. It was a familiar book I’d seen all over the internet, written by Aiko Osaka. My love of travel and exploring different cultures had drawn me to it, but I’d yet to read it. My heart swelled with excitement. Perhaps it was just me, but finding a nice, thick book got me about as excited as diamonds would get a gold digger.

I turned around to head to the cash register and heard a soft grunt as I collided with a hard chest, then took an abrupt step back, losing my balance in the process.

I let out a small yelp, expecting to fall, but hands wrapped around me and saved me from the potential bruising to both my body and my pride. The hardcover book hit the ground with a loud thud. I was suddenly pulled against a strong male chest.

The first thing I noticed was warmth, then a blending of the comforting smell of aged paper, wooden shelves, and a rich scent I could only call pure masculinity. It took a minute for me to orient myself, and I blinked, feeling a bit dazed. My eyes raked over my rescuer, or at least as much as I could see this close to him.

He was way taller than me, and I had to tip my head back to meet his moss-green eyes. Combined with dark hair, firm lips, and a five o'clock shadow covering a square jaw, he was a sight to behold.

My body tingled where he had his arms around me, so I backed out of his hold, trying to stifle my reaction to him. He let go ever so slowly.

“Are you okay?” His voice was warm and deep, matching the rest of him perfectly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” I squeezed out a smile despite my intense embarrassment.

I held his gaze for a moment too long, long enough for my stomach to feel like a flurry of butterflies had been unleashed in it.

He broke the spell by bending to pick up the book that had fallen from my grasp during our collision. He turned it over to look at the cover, and his eyes widened a bit as he read the author. He gave me back the book, looking impressed.

My eyes narrowed into slits at his expression. “What?”

He shook his head, hiding a smile. “Nothing.”

I cocked my head, curious. Didn’t he like this book? I didn’t know why I cared about his opinion, but I did.

“Come on, tell me,” I coaxed.

“I just saw the title of the book. You know, both the author and publisher have been slammed with a lawsuit for this book.”

I’d heard about the lawsuit for copyright infringement. One of Aiko Osaka's acquaintances, a female author, was suing him for stealing an idea she had shared with him. But people online had given the book glowing reviews despite that.

“Yes, I had heard that,” I replied, tucking the book close to my chest. “I’m curious to read the book for myself and form my own judgment.”

“What do you think about the person suing, wanting to share the cake now that the book is a bestseller?” he asked.

“That may be,” I conceded. “But you can’t sue someone for stealing an idea. Ideas can’t be copyrighted.”

I didn’t want to get into legal jargon with this guy. Besides, who was he to question my reading choices? I considered him once more, trying to gauge what kind of profession he was in. He carried himself with confidence, but his dress didn’t give me much of a clue. He wore a dark t-shirt, sweatpants, and running shoes. He could be a trainer, given his slim, muscular build. But then, he could be a DJ or even a budding actor like Maddison.

There was no way to tell for sure unless I asked him.

My eyes traveled to his full lips.

He would have made a good underwear model, too.

I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment at my inappropriate thoughts.

The man raised an eyebrow, his lips quirked up. What would he look like with a true smile?

Those lips moved again, and he said, “But it’s unethical, don’t you think?”

It took me a moment to remember what we’d been talking about.

Oh, yeah. The book. The lawsuit.

I shook my head. “Yes, but people take inspiration from others’ work all the time. Haven’t you read the book Steal Like an Artist ?”

My words came out more like a rebuke than an answer. Where did I get the courage to scold a complete stranger in the middle of a Manhattan bookstore? I guess him being handsome and making conversation was giving me wings to fly.

I was enjoying our banters, though I didn’t let it show.

He smiled fully then, and it was utterly dazzling. The swarm of butterflies increased in my stomach, I found myself holding the book tighter to my chest for grounding.

“Well, aren’t we well-read?” he teased.

I relaxed a bit, pleasantly surprised that I could converse with someone so easily on my first day here. From my earlier experience, I’d thought it would be difficult to get to know people. Not that I would ever see him again.

“So, what’s your—"

“Please, bring your purchases to the front. The store is now closing.”

The high-pitched teenage voice rang across the bookstore again, interrupting my question.

Was it too bold of me to want to ask his name?

We both moved at the same time and bumped into each other again. I laughed nervously, stepping aside.

“Excuse me,” he said.

“Sorry.” I flushed.

When I looked up, I mused about what it might be like for him to lean down and kiss me, his face just inches from mine as it was. Embarrassed, I looked past him down the aisle.

“Ladies first,” he said gallantly, waving me past while making as much room as the narrow aisle between the bookshelves would allow. My shoulder brushed his chest still. “Well, enjoy that book,” he said.

“Thanks, you, too,” I said.

I could kill myself.

You, too?

I made a beeline for the checkout before I could make an even bigger fool of myself.

My book pressed to my chest, I realized my heart was beating faster than usual, and my skin felt flushed. I refused to look around the store as I set my book down on the counter, and the girl rang me up. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I sensed he was looking at me. But I refused to turn, wishing the ground would swallow me.

“Just this book, miss?” the girl at the register asked.

“Yes, that’s all.”

The doorbell chimed, I didn’t look, but knew the man left. A wave of disappointment washed over me, my heart sank as I realized he had gone out of my life. I wasn’t usually the swooning type, but something about the man made me do just that.

After the cashier packed the book, I headed out too, glancing around the street as I exited. But it seemed the man had disappeared.

It was growing darker by the second, the sky already touched with the dark hues of sunset. I needed to get home as soon as possible. I couldn’t help the thought that popped into my head, however, as I started back the way I came. Maybe if I returned to the bookstore tomorrow around the same time, I would see him there again.