Roommaid

by Sariah Wilson

  For us to connect.

  As his hands roamed, as he left trails of fire everywhere that he touched me, his kisses turned deeper. Wilder, fiercer, somehow even hotter.

  I was in this little world that he had created, floating along in the darkness and the heat, my whole body throbbing with mindless want. He was scorching me from the inside out.

  Then it wasn’t just my lips that he planned on claiming. One of his hands moved up into my hair and the sensation of his fingers against my scalp sent shudders through me. He pulled back gently, exposing the line of my throat. Then his mouth moved against that delicate skin, skimming it and pressing intermittent kisses to it, so that I had to grab on to his shoulders just to stay upright.

  Then he went for the bottom of my earlobe, onto the spot just behind my ear that drove me wild. Like he’d instinctively known exactly where to touch me to make me fall apart in his arms.

  The kisses stopped. He was still holding me, but not kissing me. It was more than my brain could work out, muddled as it was. I blinked several times, trying to figure out what was going on. Then he looked at me. He looked at me with so much intensity, with so much want and need, that it took my breath away all over again.

  He looked at me like he loved me.

  “Madison?” His tone was low, growly, and sent little shivers through me. “Do you think we should stop?”

  That took my brain a beat to process. What? Had his tongue slipped? Did he mean to say, Come here and do that again?

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to stop. “No.”

  Worried that he didn’t believe me, I grabbed his face and dragged his mouth back to mine. I wanted to show him what I wanted. I also wanted him to feel the way I did, the way he made me feel. I wanted him to lose control, to be trapped under a spell of blazing torment.

  And I was succeeding. He was frantic now, taking off his jacket, the strap of his laptop bag. I did my best to help him but my eyes were so unfocused that it was hard to see. This was taking too long and I needed his mouth on mine.

  Unwilling to wait for him to start kissing me again, I reached out for his shirt, grabbing fistfuls of it as I pulled him to me.

  His phone was ringing. We were both so caught up in what we were doing, what our kisses were creating, that I don’t think we noticed at first. But it rang and it rang, persistent.

  “Tyler.” I muttered his name against his lips and he let out a soft groan of despair.

  “I know, I hear it, too.”

  Then he released me, and it was like stepping into an ice bath. Everything seemed cold and cut off and shivery without him right next to me. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to ward off the icy feeling. It took a second for my head to clear, my eyes to focus. I tried to calm my shallow breathing.

  But the desperate need I had for him? To keep kissing him? That wasn’t going anywhere.

  “It’s the driver,” he said, looking upset as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I have to go.”

  I knew he did. So I just nodded, keeping myself away from him so that I wouldn’t be tempted to try and change his mind. I had wanted to know what it would be like if he ever really kissed me and it was like . . . some out-of-body experience. Something beyond what I could fully comprehend. Like a roller coaster, jumping from a plane, climbing up a sheer rock face, finding designer shoes for eighty percent off, and Christmas morning, all rolled into one.

  He put his coat back on and picked up his laptop bag. “Madison, about what just happened—”

  “Don’t,” I said, stopping him. My heart sank in my chest. I wasn’t going to let him ruin this by asking me to forget about it, because there’s no way I could do that. “Don’t ask me to pretend this didn’t happen, because I won’t.”

  “No.” He looked surprised. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  Oh. “What were you going to say?”

  “I . . .” His voice trailed off and he glanced down, almost like he was gathering up some inner strength before his gaze met mine again. The fire I saw there nearly knocked me off my feet. “I want to be with you. I want us. Together. Dating.”

  Now I had to be hallucinating. No way this was actually happening. “What?”

  “You and me.” He took a step closer, reaching out with his hand to hold the side of my face. “I want this.” His thumb ran over my lips as he said the words and my lower abdomen tightened hard in response. My knees buckled. “And I want more.”

  His voice was growly and seductive. All I could do was stare at him as my pulse throbbed throughout my entire body.

  “Do you want that, too?” For the first time he sounded a little unsure and I was struck by an urge to laugh hysterically.

  Did I want that, too? More than I wanted my next breath. This was my chance to tell him . . . what? I couldn’t admit that I was in love with him. He was saying he wanted us to get together, not that he had fallen for me. I couldn’t jump us fifty steps ahead. We would just have to go slow.

  He waited expectantly, and I had to say something. “I . . . I want . . .” Why couldn’t I talk? It was like his kisses had muddled my brain’s ability to function.

  His phone buzzed again, reminding us both that he had a car waiting for him. His jaw tightened. “I have to go. My timing sucks. But please, think about it. Don’t decide anything until I get back tomorrow and we can talk.” Then his tone became serious, almost dark. “When I get back there are . . . some things we need to talk about.”

  Without another word or touch he was gone, leaving me to wonder what that meant.

  Because . . . things? What kind of things? What had he been keeping from me? People couldn’t just say stuff like that and leave you hanging because then you’d do nothing but stress and freak out when maybe all he wanted to tell me was that chicken parmesan was his favorite dinner.

  And he wanted me to think about it?

  Trust me, this was all I was going to be thinking about.

  I’d brought Pigeon home and she seemed more like her old self, only a little more prone to napping, given her pain medications. I texted Tyler to let him know that everything was going well with her. He responded with a smiling emoji.

  Then he said:

  It was like those smiling emojis had gone straight to my heart, filling me with absolute joy.

  But before I could respond, he added:

  That sent thrills of excitement through me to the point that I had to sit on the couch because I felt a little faint.

  I didn’t know what to say back. I felt the same, obviously, but I hadn’t told him that yet. It didn’t seem right to do it in a text. He deserved to hear me say it, to tell him how very much I wanted us together.

  I did still wonder about what he’d meant by things we need to talk about, because it was killing me not to know. I didn’t ask him, though.

  Instead, I did as so many women had before me—I called my girlfriends and discussed it with them.

  After their excited shrieks over him saying that he wanted to be with me (including a very emphatic “I told you so!” from Shay), I asked them what they thought he’d meant by things he had to tell me. Of course neither one of them knew, either, but they had a lot of fun conjecturing.

  “Maybe his new promotion means he’ll have to move so you’ll have to move?” Delia offered.

  Shay said, “I’m sticking with he’s totally in love with her and wants to tell her in person about his undying devotion.”

  While I appreciated her positive outlook, my internal pessimist had taken over and I had thoroughly convinced myself that he was going to say it all was a mistake and I’d have to move out and lose both him and Pigeon and my heart was going to shatter into a million pieces and I would never ever recover. “Whatever it is,” I sighed, “I hate that I’m failing in love.”

  There was a pause. Delia asked, “Don’t you mean falling in love?”

  “No, the way I’m doing it, it’s failing. Nothing seems to be going right. My mind is just all over t
he place and I can’t quiet it down.”

  “You sound overcaffeinated to me,” Shay said. “How many cups have you had today?”

  “I don’t know. Two? Eleven? I didn’t sleep last night because of all this. My brain wouldn’t turn off and now I’m exhausted and coffee is the only thing keeping me awake and somewhat coherent.”

  Our intercom buzzed and I told the girls to hang on. “Yes?”

  “Miss Huntington, there’s someone here to see you? She says her name is Oksana?”

  I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my brain. Like Brad, apparently she didn’t understand what over meant. “Tyler’s not here. He’s on a business trip. Tell her she’ll have to come back later.”

  I thought that was the end of it, but then I heard Gerald’s voice again. “She says she wants specifically to talk to you. Not Mr. Roth.”

  That was super weird. Some part of me thought of telling him to just send her away but the bigger part was strangely curious as to what she might say. Like I was about to be a part of a big confrontation in one of my favorite reality TV shows.

  “Tell her I’ll be right down.”

  I got back on my phone and told the girls what was happening and promised to call them after I talked to her. Shay offered to drive over and be my backup, but I told them it was unnecessary.

  My heart beat a bit faster as I stepped off the elevator and into the lobby. Oksana was waiting there, looking gorgeous as ever, her arms crossed and her foot tapping. She had on a red leather jacket that my aunt would have loved. She was also smoking, even though I overheard Gerald telling her this was a nonsmoking building and to get rid of her cigarette.

  When I got closer she finally did as she was asked, and put the cigarette out under her high heel.

  “That day, in the sushi restaurant?” she said when I got close enough. “I knew you were there. I wanted you to see me kissing Ivan. I wanted you to tell Tyler so that he would be jealous.”

  Um, okay. Had she really stopped by to tell me that? Merry Christmas, I know you saw me making out with somebody else and I wanted you to pass that information along?

  “I told him. He wasn’t upset.”

  My response seemed to infuriate her. “I also know that you are in love with him,” she continued, and I hoped I didn’t look as shocked as I felt. Was I that bad at hiding it? Had Tyler known all along? Was that what he wanted to talk to me about? “I could see it from the first time we met. It was pathetic. You are nothing but his maid.”

  “Roommaid, thank you very much!” As comebacks went, it wasn’t great. I was sure to come up with a better one at around one o’clock in the morning when I replayed this incident for the hundredth time in my head. “And you came here just to insult me? I already have a mom for that. So I’ll be going.”

  She reached out, grabbing my arm. “You do not know him. Not the way that I know him. He does not care about women. He uses them and moves on. You will be just another broken heart in a long line of broken hearts.”

  Was this sour grapes or was she trying to get in my head? Because if her goal was the second one, it was working a little. “That doesn’t sound like Tyler to me.”

  “It is Tyler. He doesn’t make commitments. You may think he is the hero, but he is not. He will do whatever he has to do to get what he wants. He is not the good guy. He is ambitious and can be ruthless.”

  I finally jerked my arm away, not wanting to hear any more. I had lived with Tyler, eaten dinner with him, gone out to restaurants and events with him, watched television with him, shared a dog with him, and slept across the hall from him. I’d kissed him and listened when he said he wanted to be with me. I felt like I knew him pretty well. I knew him well enough to be in love with him.

  “I’m not going to listen to this,” I told her. “You can see yourself out. I won’t be coming down here to talk to you again.”

  She was shouting at me in what I assumed was Russian as I left the lobby. I wasn’t going to let Oksana ruin what I knew to be true about Tyler. Although, a voice in my head whispered that maybe what she’d said had merit. Why else would she bother coming over here just to talk to me? Maybe she really had been trying to warn me.

  Or had Tyler hurt her when she ended things and now she was lashing out? Trying to hurt and confuse me, someone who was, as far as she knew, his friend and roommate?

  I couldn’t see her angle or why she had made this kind of effort. It wasn’t like Tyler was going to get back together with her after he heard what she’d said. So I had to assume that this was a mission sent solely to destroy me and the feelings I had for him.

  Maybe I should have told her she’d failed.

  I didn’t believe he was capable of being a bad guy. I’d seen too much kindness and goodness in him. But the commitment thing? If that was her main hang-up? That could very well be true. Given his financial situation, maybe it was easier for him not to be serious with anyone because of how much he took care of his mother.

  Would I be okay with that? But, how could our relationship not be committed and more serious if I was living in the same apartment with him? That could be a problem, too. We would be starting out from a more serious place.

  When I got back up to my apartment, my phone was ringing. I’d left it on the counter when I went downstairs.

  At first I assumed that it was Shay or Delia calling, trying to see what had happened with Oksana.

  It was my oldest sister. I quickly answered.

  “Hi, Violet. What’s going on?” I wasn’t going to assume that she needed anything. Maybe this was just a sisterly call and she was checking on my well-being.

  That hope was dashed a second later when she said, “You know that favor you owe me? I’m cashing it in. I need you to come to Mom and Daddy’s Christmas party tonight.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “What?” I asked. This was more than a little alarming. It was also the very last thing I’d expected her to ask for. Come to my parents’ annual, as they called it, Christmas Eve Eve party? They didn’t have it on Christmas Eve because they were worried that if they did, people wouldn’t come. That they would want to do silly things, like spend the evening with their families. So it was always the day before Christmas Eve and for many members of Houston society it was a tradition kept like any other Christmas tradition.

  The party was an event for their company, family, and friends to show off their wealth and hopefully generate some goodwill by stuffing people with alcohol and food. It was the last place I wanted to be, especially since I knew Brad and his family would be there. Was this another lame attempt on my mother’s part to get me to reconcile with him?

  “Why do you need me to go?” I did consider the fact that she might just be lying to me if our mom was manipulating her.

  She let out a big breath. “Because I’m going to tell our parents that I’m not marrying Howard and that I’m in love with Santiago.”

  My head jerked back, almost as if she’d been able to smack me through her phone. “You’re going to what? Do you want to die just before Christmas?” Or possibly send my parents to the hospital after they had dual heart attacks?

  “It’s time. I have to tell them before things go any further. I know Howard’s planning on proposing tonight. Mother’s going to make a big show out of it. I have to stop it, and I need you there with me. If you want to be.”

  “Of course I will be! Whatever you need. Only, I don’t have a dress to wear.” This event was always black tie.

  “I can send over one of your dresses from your room. Or I could get one of my personal shoppers to pull some gowns for you and send them over.”

  The idea of a new dress sounded intriguing, and would technically be no cost to me (since I knew Violet would cover it), but I wanted to stop being indebted to people. I couldn’t claim to be standing on my own two feet if my sister was buying me ball gowns.

  “Maybe the dark-green velvet that we got in Milan two years ago?” I asked. “That would work for a holiday
party. And I’ll borrow some jewelry if you have some extras lying around.”

  “Done!” Violet said, and I could hear real happiness in her voice. “I can’t believe I’m doing this!”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing it, either. Look at you being a rebel. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”

  I hung up and then called Shay to let her know what had happened with Oksana and where I would be for the rest of the evening.

  “Call me when it’s over. I would offer to go with you, but I don’t want to. Even though the temptation of observing the apex predator in her natural habitat is intriguing. So I’m going to need a full reporting of how things go with your family,” she said. “I’ll wait up. And good luck!”

  My next call was to our dog walker, asking her if she’d come by tonight and dog sit. She said she’d be happy to do it. I knew that was overkill, that Pigeon would be okay, but I hated the idea of leaving her alone while I went to this thing. Especially because I didn’t know how long I’d be gone. Would Violet tell them right away? Or would she wait a few hours? Figuring it might take her some time to screw up her courage, I decided to make sure that a recovering Pigeon was looked after.

  I texted Tyler.

  He responded:

  With my heart in my throat, I messaged him back:

  My dress arrived a couple of hours later, and Violet had included a pair of black high heels to wear with it, along with diamond earrings the size of small ice cubes and a diamond choker that I thought belonged to my grandmother. This wasn’t jewelry I’d ever had access to before, just Violet and my mother (something Vanessa complained about endlessly, but things tended to go missing after she wore them). I figured this was probably Violet’s way of signaling to my parents that she had at least one person on her side.

  I also made a mental note to return them before I left for the evening so that I wouldn’t be accused of stealing them.

  A few hours later, as I got ready, it felt like I was putting on actual armor, readying myself to go into battle. I wasn’t getting dressed up because of their expectations; I was doing it for me and Violet. I needed to know that what I was wearing would be flawless.