Love Surreptitiously Read online

  Love Surreptitiously

  Tarrah Anders

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  And Another Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Dear Friends,

  Also by Tarrah Anders

  About the Author

  COPYRIGHT © 2020– TARRAH ANDERS

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.

  Tarrah Anders | Tarrah Anders, LLC [email protected] |www.tarrahanders.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Formatting: Tarrah Anders, LLC

  Cover: Tarrah Anders, LLC

  Ordering Information: Love Surreptitiously

  ASIN: B08FHHWSCC

  For Mary.

  Chapter One

  There comes a point when some days one has had enough and want to just quit everything. Where everything that you do, you feel defeated and like you’re just not good enough.

  That is me today.

  I started my workday out energized and ready to conquer the presentation that would ultimately land me in a promotion position. It would be myself and another guy gunning for the promotion. However, nothing went as planned. I was sidelined immediately and didn’t get my chance to present the work that I spent countless hours on for new copy content and layout looks for revamping our upcoming issues. I stand in the corner of the conference room with my arms crossed with a neutral expression, as the Editor in Chief of the magazine I work for tells us that there will be some personnel changes. But he can’t discuss the matters further. These new personnel changes mean there won’t be any new promotions to the company for the next quarter, and I felt as if everything I’ve been hustling day and night over the past few months was squashed.

  Turns out that none of the hard work that I’ve done over the years will be noticed, as well as the presentation that I poured my soul into will be on hold. I’m not in the running for a promotion and I’m still just a measly designer. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s a great job, and it pays the bills—but that’s not to say that I didn’t want to climb the ladder. Even though this is a minor setback, this isn’t the end. But I’ve been in this position for five years, and I’m ready to move up. I’ve worked hard at trying to prove to Mr. Williams, and everyone else I work with, that I deserve the promotion.

  At the end of the day, I’m pretty exhausted.

  A gauntlet of emotions is running through my mind from the fact that today has just been a huge let down. Instead of going directly home after work, I stop by a bar just down the block from the office and start drinking.

  I’m not sure how long I sit on a barstool taking shots and sipping on my beer, but I enjoy quite a number of them, fended off a few hands, and then eventually go on my way.

  I take my seat on the train, lean my head back against the seat, and close my eyes feeling like everything is spinning.

  “Is this seat taken?” someone asks stopping and pointing to the empty seat beside me.

  I open my eyes and shake my head as a twenty-something man-boy sits down beside me.

  “How are you this evening?” he asks politely settling into the seat.

  “Shitty, absolutely shitty.” I sit up and turn toward him. He’s kind of cute, blurry and I think that there are two of him, but definitely cute in a nerdy kind of way. “I mean, I worked hard, so hard and all the work was for nothing, can you fucking believe it?” my voice begins to raise with each word.

  The guy stands up, with an odd look on his face, and apologizes as he quickly moves away from me.

  I shake my head, close my eyes again and take a deep breath.

  The train comes to a stop and the doors open. People get on and people get off. Another person comes to the empty space beside me and takes a seat.

  The person smells like licorice, and I’m not sure what comes over me, but I begin to laugh, hysterically. I open my eyes and turn to the person sitting beside me. The woman looks at me with her eyebrows raised expecting me to say something.

  “Oh, don’t mind me, but you smell so delicious, like I would love to take a bite out of you and see if you taste as good as you smell.”

  “Fucking weirdo.” She shakes her head and mutters under her breath as she gets up with disgust.

  Another one bites the dust. I think to myself.

  “What’s wrong with this seat?” a deep voice asks with a hint of laughter.

  I look up at him.

  While I may be a little on the drunk side, I can appreciate a fine man when I see one, and boy oh boy, is he fine!

  He smirks as he waits for my answer.

  “It’s probably my fault, the seat itself is fine.” I shrug.

  “Well, here I’ll be the one to judge that.” He takes the seat beside me, and butterflies fill my stomach with his closeness as I get a whiff of his scent. It’s not licorice, but deliciously minty.

  He sniffs in the air.

  “Well, you don’t smell horribly, just a little bit like a liquor store, but I can appreciate a good drink after a long day of work. So your hygiene couldn’t be the reason.”

  “Nope,” I reply. “But I may have told the last person that sat there that I wanted to take a bite out of her.” I hiccup, cover my mouth and widen my eyes while saying excuse me.

  “Ahhh, now I can understand that. Confession time, are you a cannibal?”

  I snort. “Not that I’m aware of, I mean I like to eat meat, but it’s only from animals as far as I know.”

  “How do you know? Do you watch them slaughter the animal?” he winks.

  I think and shake my head. “I think I would be able to tell the difference.”

  “So, why did you want to take a bite out of her?” he questions.

  “She smelled like licorice and I like licorice.”

  He nods in understanding. “And the other guy?”

  “Were you spying on me?” I swing my head to look to him.

  “I heard someone talking extremely fast, then I looked up from my phone and this kid is basically running away from the seat.”

  “Ah yes. I complained about my day, he sat down and I pretty much attacked him with my verbal vomit. He didn’t like it very much. He probably just wan
ted to be left alone.”

  “Verbal vomit, eh? Hit me with it?”

  “Why? So you can be the third? This isn’t baseball, I’m not going to get ejected from the train.”

  “What can it hurt? Why did you verbally vomit on the poor kid?”

  “He asked for it.” I say.

  “And now I am, so hit me with it.”

  I take a deep breath, and everything begins to flow from my mouth.

  “I worked endlessly on a project for work. I had everything all set up and would have landed the promotion that I’ve been working towards for the past few years, but I didn’t get to do my presentation. I didn’t get to share my ideas and I sure as hell didn’t get that promotion. I basically couldn’t sleep last night, because I was so nervous and stress eating salad like there was an endless supply. So then, our big man editor comes in and says that there’s a change in staffing, not saying who or what that change would be and that because of that, no one is getting raises anytime soon. How ridiculous! All I wanted was a damn promotion, I’ve worked hard over the years, put in my time and all for nothing. I should just quit and find another job somewhere else. Somewhere where my work will be valued, and I would be able to get a promotion for the hard work that I do. Then, I wouldn’t have to deal with the shitty coffee, the bad breath of Beverly or that fact that I have to take the train to and from work into the city every freaking day. Like I could work by my house, get street tacos during my lunch, and not have to deal with the crap food around work that gives me the runs. Or hell, I could get a better paying job and finally not have a roommate who sings badly in the shower or brings home randoms from Tinder all the time. I love her, like a lot, but I could do without the revolving door. Sometimes, she’s one of my besties, but she’s too free spirited for me. Then I could get a dog and have someone to snuggle and love me unconditionally. And now, because of these stupid changes, I don’t get to do any of that. None of it! None!”

  “Do you want some water?” the handsome man offers me a bottled water from his bag.

  I take it and whisper a ‘thanks’ to him before taking a large sip.

  “Well, it sounds like you had a shitty day, I’m sorry, it sounds like a lot.”

  “Oh, you don’t even know the half of it.”

  “Well, I have a few more stops before I need to get off.” He offers.

  “Have you ever had a doctor’s appointment where the doctor didn’t even look at you? Like what the hell is up with that?” I snap recalling my annual checkup with my new doctor last week.

  Chapter Two

  “How much did you have to drink last night, Sid?” my roommate, Steph asks rubbing her eyes when she walks in the kitchen.

  I look up at her from my cup of coffee and groan.

  “No clue.” I shake my head.

  “Girl, I don’t know how you got home. You were stumbly and pretty much a walking disaster.”

  “I vaguely remember that some guy that I met on the train helped me home.” I rub my forehead.

  “Yeah, I kind of saw him last night. I bet you he’s going to come back and kill us.” Steph rummages in the fridge and replies jokingly.

  “You listen to too many true crime things.”

  “I’m just glad that I was home when you came falling through the front door. Prince charming offered to help you all the way in and then you screamed like bloody hell and woke me up from my wine buzz on the couch.”

  “Why did I scream?” I ask.

  “Well, I believe that you fell.”

  “Sorry,” I say into my cup, not really meaning it.

  “That was totally out of character for you. Why were you drunk on a work night?”

  “Shittastic day yesterday.”

  “Oh no, the presentation didn’t go well?” she asks sympathetically.

  “It didn’t happen at all. Changes at work, blah blah. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Anymore? You’ve barely said a thing.”

  “Ah, yeah, well part of my train ride was pretty much accosting the gentleman that helped me home with my tales of woe and others. He was nice about it though.”

  “By the looks of him, probably not the first time that some chick spilled her guts to him.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Girl, do you remember what he looked like? That man was hotness on a stick. He was quite a tall glass of water. Pretty sure within the nanosecond that I saw him, and we locked eyes, I creamed my panties.”

  “Please.” I laugh.

  “Do you remember your prince charming?”

  “Sure. He had dark hair, dark eyes, five o’clock shadow, and a deep voice.”

  “Oh girl, that’s just the surface. He had high cheekbones, a perfect smile and hair that was perfect for pulling.”

  “Well, we didn’t exchange numbers or anything. So, I highly doubt that I will see him again or get to pull his perfect hair. I don’t ever take that late of a train and well, I don’t even know his name.”

  “We’ll just refer to him as Prince Charming.” Steph says as she scoops a giant spoonful of yogurt and granola into her mouth.

  Hi Ho! Hi Ho! We’re going into work to slave the day away for no promotions in sight. Hi Ho! Hi Ho! Hi Ho! Hi Ho! Wow, that didn’t even come close to rhyming.

  We are a popular travel magazine, the magazine makes a crap-ton of money.

  Why would pay increases be on hold when we make the magazine so much damn money?

  The elevator ride feels endless as people get off and on each floor until it finally reaches the tenth floor, which houses World Tripping and its couple hundred or so employees.

  I pass by the receptionist and she stops me with a wave of her hands.

  “Did you hear?” she whisper shouts at me.

  “Hear what?” I ask with confusion.

  “We have a new Editor in Chief.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I ask. Did I hear that right?

  “Mr. Williams stepped down. That was whatever he was talking about yesterday. No one even knew, not even his assistant. But apparently, it’s been on the hush-hush between him and HR.”

  “Why the heck didn’t he just say that?” I ask.

  “It’s been some super secret that he had,” she replies.

  “So, who’s the new guy? Or gal?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t come in yet. But check your email, Mr. Williams sent something early this morning saying that there will be a meeting off site to meet the new guy. The address where we all have to go is in there.”

  “Weird.” I note.

  Why would the meeting be held offsite?

  I shake my head and walk through the maze of cubicles to get to mine. I set my belongings down on the side of my desk and start my computer then directly open my emails.

  There it is. His apologies for not going into details, for not preparing anyone, but that he has personal things to tend to that take precedent.

  Whatever.

  The off-site meeting will take place in a little over an hour, so I go through all my other emails and fill up my time until the floor empties and we make our way to a performance hall on the next block.

  We all jam into the space and take our seats that face a stage.

  “Who the heck does this guy think he is for needing a huge stage? What is he, some big shot?” my work bestie, Olivia asks.

  “I mean, he probably is. I wouldn’t be able to see Mr. Williams ever offering the magazine to anyone who isn’t anything less. You know how Mr. Williams thought special of himself.” I whisper.

  “I hear that he’s new to town and is from one of the big five,” Shane says from beside me.

  “Who would leave one of those places to come and work for our magazine? It’s not like we’re that huge. And it’s totally different.” Olivia says.

  “I beg to differ. We’re read nationally. Our largest demographic is age thirty to sixty.” Shane replies.

  We don’t try to correct him, since he’s an a
nalyst and it’s his job to know these kinds of facts. While we wait for the show to begin, we face the stage. I thumb through my Facebook feed on my phone to kill time.

  The lights go down and a spotlight shines on stage right. I see the purple curtains move and out comes a tall figure, dressed impeccably in a three-piece gray suit with brown shoes that clack against the hardwood until he makes his way to center stage. He pulls the microphone that I didn’t see before and taps it gently before putting it in front of his mouth.

  Then he smiles.

  “Holy shit!” I say a little loud that many people around me snicker.

  It’s Prince Charming!

  The room is silent, and I can hear my heart beat with every breath that I take.

  “I bet you each are thinking, who the fuck is this guy and why did he bring us here, instead of meeting us at the office? Well, first I wanted us to be offsite and on common ground. I had hoped for a little more of a relaxed environment than the staleness of a conference room. And secondly, my name is Quinlan Montgomery and as you may have guessed, I’ve replaced Mr. Williams as of this morning. Now, I realize that him vacating his position may have seemed to some as sudden, but it’s actually been in the works for roughly six months. I can’t speak to the reasons for him vacating his seat, but I do want to assure you that there will be zero layoffs, and that any of my ideas will not be implemented without each department’s insight. A little of my background is that I come from one of the large publishers in New York. I’ve had my sights set on working for a magazine since my youth, but my options were led to print in another facet. I’m born and bred here in Los Angeles and went to Columbia for college. I worked my way up from the mail room while still in school to the COO in about ten years until now, where I will sit as Editor in Chief here at World Tripping.