Loving Monroe
Munroe Series Book Two
Danelle Nelson
Loving Munroe Copyright © 2018 by Danelle Nelson. All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Danelle Nelson
Visit my website at www.danellenelson.com
Other Titles by Danelle Nelson
Bound Series
Bound Through the Ashes
The Bandolero’s Wife
Munroe Series
Meeting Munroe
Loving Munroe
Table of Contents
chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Thank you
chapter one
“Good morning, beautiful.” My eyes fluttered as the early morning sunshine beamed through the glass walls. The sky stood purple and red, a telltale sign that I should still be fast asleep. I rolled to my side and found Tim propped up on his elbows smiling, “I could watch you sleep all day.”
“What time is it?” My voice full of rasp.
“Five.”
“Jesus, who wakes up at five in the morning,” I stretched my arms above my head and allowed my back to gracefully crack. The horrible scene from the night prior still seared into my mind. I’d need to check on Nate first thing.
“I’m going to the gym before I take you to the police station. Eat breakfast with me?” Tim’s lip dropped, making him look like a pathetic puppy.
“How can I say no to that face?” I sat up, placing his head between my hands and planting a soft kiss on his forehead. “What’s for breakfast? Do you cook?”
“Matilda cooks, not me.”
Of course she does, “Oh.”
“You sound disappointed,” he frowned.
“I’m just not used to a maid, is all. I’m used to the eats of Nate,” I laughed. “I’m sure Matilda is a wonderful cook though. Do you know what she’s made?” My stomach rumbled at the thought of food.
“French toast,” he grinned.
“Oh yes,” I licked my lips. French toast sounded amazing.
Tim leaned in closer, allowing our foreheads to meet, “If you keep talking like that we’ll have to skip breakfast.”
“Oh, I’m too hungry for that!”
“Let’s go eat, then.” He stood, outstretching his hand to help me off the bed.
I was naked, except for a t-shirt I’d borrowed. “Let me get dressed. I’ll meet you out there?”
“Alright,” he left the room, leaving me alone.
We’d made love the night before, on a bed that had never held another woman. Something about the thought made it special, made it magical even. He’d helped me forget the awful fiasco that had unfolded in my apartment a mere hour before—I’d forgotten everything.
He somehow made me do that, made me forget. I wasn’t sure if I liked it all that much, but the mind-numbing sex I loved. I couldn’t get enough. I also couldn’t get enough of this amazing view. The skyline was lit with the colors of the sunrise, the city below already bustling with people. They appeared to be tiny little ants from here. I felt like a child with an ant farm, sitting and watching the ants go by, unaware that someone was watching their every move.
I made my way to the outrageously oversized walk in closet, which really was just an additional small room. Tim’s suits hung methodically, color coded and pressed. He had an entire wall dedicated to dress shoes, the leather gleaming from the above L.E.D’s. I opened the drawers and found ties neatly rolled, every color imaginable sitting before me.
I wondered if the color scheme was kept pristine by Matilda, or if Tim just enjoyed keeping things orderly. The ties themselves where lined like the rainbow, the colors shifting ever so slightly from white to pink, pink to red, red to orange, and so on. It was mesmerizing. Almost as enthralling as the view.
The clean clothes I’d brought sat neatly folded on top of the drawers. I put them on as quickly as I could manage before making my way towards the kitchen. The apartment was huge, taking up the entire fiftieth and fifty-first floor. It was professionally decorated, that was obvious, but it had personal touches here and there. There was a large metal photograph of the New York Yankee’s hanging on the wall in the hallway, the colors rippling as I walked by. My father would hate that he was a Yankee fan.
I found Tim sitting at the kitchen island facing Matilda who was cooking over the stove. The sound of my footsteps caused them both to peer upwards, meeting my gaze with smiles. “Good morning,” I chirped.
“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Fox. Mr. Munroe speaks so highly of you.”
“Oh, thank you,” I felt the blood rushing to my face, “I hadn’t realized he spoke of me outside of work,” I laughed. “Is Nate up yet?”
“No ma’am. Still fast asleep like a baby. Would you like me to wake him?” She quickly placed the spatula on the counter, ready to go upstairs.
“No! No let him sleep. He had a horrible night.”
“I understand. Would you like fresh strawberries on your french toast?” She held out a large bowl of fresh cut berries.
“Yes please,” I smiled. I sat in the seat next to Tim, “What time will we make it to the station? I just want to make sure Nate is awake.”
“They open to the public at seven. I’ll be back here at six-thirty to grab you both.”
“Okay.”
“Would you like some orange juice, Ms. Fox?”
“Coffee if you’ve got it,” I needed an entire pot.
“A coffee girl, huh? I like you already.” Her statement made me laugh, and I watched as she poured me a large cup, “Would you like cream or sugar?”
“Extra cream, no sugar.”
She handed me the cup and I took a large sip. It was soothing—coffee was always soothing. “Is there much to do in the office today?” I turned my attention back to Tim.
“No. We’ll need to set up the meeting with Mr. Collin, but other than that I’ve not much on my plate. Usual business deals, but nothing over the top. Should be out at five per the usual.”
“Okie dokie,” I replied between sips of joy.
The French toast was plated and served a few moments later, and boy was it amazing. Matilda somehow managed to make a crispy yet light bread, which was lightly coated with powder sugar and drizzled with hot maple syrup. The strawberries were an amazing addition, adding just the right amount of sweet punch to the mix. “This is amazing, Matilda, where do you get this bread from?”
“I make it myself, Ms. Fox. Tried and true recipe that’s been handed down for generations.”
“I’ve never tasted French toast like it, it’s so airy!”
“It’s a specialty I’m honored to have,” Tim stuffed a large bite into his mouth.
“Seriously, you could open a restaurant based off this alone. I’d be there every single morning!”
“You’re too kind, Ms. Fox. Mr. Munroe will you need anything further this morning?”
“No Matilda, you’re free to go.”
Matilda took a small bow b
efore scurrying out of the room. “Where is she going?”
“She lives here.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“She’s going back to her room, upstairs. Probably until she hears Nate rise.”
“Oh,” I shrugged, stuffing the last bit of bread into my mouth.
“You eat rather fast,” Tim laughed.
“I was starving… I’m always starving,” I admitted unapologetically.
“I like it. You don’t know how many women refuse to eat around me. It’s unnerving. Who doesn’t eat?”
“Women who are afraid to embarrass themselves. I don’t have that problem. I’m an embarrassment no matter what I do, and I’ve learned to embrace it.”
“You’re not an embarrassment, Vanessa.”
“Oh, but I am. Don’t you remember my interview?”
Tim started laughing uncontrollably, “I’ll never forget that interview. How could I?”
“See!” I finished my coffee and stood, grabbing the dishes and taking them to the sink. I started washing them off when Tim’s hand fell on my own, turning the water off before swinging me around to face him.
“Matilda does that,” he whispered before biting my ear lobe.
“I don’t want to cause more work,” I protested.
“She’s paid to do the work—and paid well.” His teeth grazed my neck, causing me to moan out.
“My daddy didn’t raise no slop,” I whispered weakly.
“No, he didn’t. Doesn’t mean you can’t let someone else pick up after you while you’re here. Enjoy it, Vanessa. Embrace it.”
“Yeah, that isn’t going to happen,” I turned back around. “You can yell at me until you’re blue in the face, this doesn’t feel right. It takes two seconds to wash these off. I’ll see you at six-thirty.” I felt his body behind me as he leaned in and kissed me on the shoulder.
“I won’t be late.”
Chapter two
Nate joined me downstairs at six, fully dressed and ready to impress. “You look great.”
I felt horrible about the night prior, about Matt. I had been too drunk to realize he’d taken my key, too drunk to realize I’d put Nate in danger. My best friend, my everything! I was an ass.
“Hey baby-cakes. How was your night?” he asked with a wink.
“Ah, it was wonderful. I slept on a cloud.”
“Who are you telling! You can see the stars from bed! This place is spectacular. I’ve never seen anything like it. The man knows how to build a place, that’s for sure.”
“I think it’s more like architects and interior designers know how to build, he knows how to pay the right people.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. What’s for breakfast though, I’m starving.”
Nate ate the French toast as quickly as I had, enjoying each bite until it was gone. The doorbell rang as soon as he was done, and I got up to go answer. A small tablet sat on the wall in front of the elevator, Tim’s beautiful face beaming at me from the screen, “Are you two ready?”
“Yeah, we’ll be right down,” I walked back towards Nate. “Our rides here.”
“Let’s get this over with. Me and you against the world, baby-cakes.”
We got into the elevator hand in hand, ready to defeat Matt once and for all. The quick elevator ride down was silent, the tension between Nate and I could be cut with a knife. “Are you okay?” I asked as the elevator came to a stop at the garage.
“Nervous is all,” he shook his hands out.
“I’m sorry, seriously. You shouldn’t be in this situation. You shouldn’t have been held hostage in your own home.”
Nate stopped right outside of the elevator and grabbed my shoulders causing Tim to raise an eyebrow, “Stop saying you’re sorry. Matt’s actions are not yours, you cannot and will not ever control what the man does. He isn’t your burden to carry, no matter how shitty he’s treated you. You need to understand that, Ness.”
I felt a tear escape my eye, Nate catching it before it could roll down my cheek, “I know.”
“Let’s do this.” He grabbed my hand tightly, leading me to the sleek SUV that was waiting. Tim was standing outside of the open door, ushering us inside and shutting it behind us. He’d be riding up front with Terry this morning.
“They’ve set bail at fifty-thousand,” Tim said somberly.
“He’ll never come up with that kind of money.”
“Let’s hope not,” Nate chimed in.
The ride to the police station was silent. None of us had the courage to speak. Tim rode with the visor down, and I periodically caught him glancing at me in the mirror. The last time I managed to flash a grin, causing him to redden in the face when he realized he’d been caught. Traffic was as horrible at six-thirty as it was at nine, but we made it to the station at precisely seven. The detectives were waiting to take our statements, and as promised both Nate and I had our own lawyers present.
My lawyer, Mr. Thomas, was older than dirt. He peered at me from beneath dirty spectacles, his balding white hair flayed about on top of his head. He looked out of sorts, and out of place. I turned towards Tim, “Uhm, are you sure he’s competent?”
“More than most, trust me. I’d trust Mr. Thomas with my life, Vanessa.”
I nodded, following the man into the interrogation room. The detective, a middle-aged Asian man, sat with pen and paper on the opposite side of the table. Two glasses of water sat in front of us, and I reached out and took a sip. “Shall we begin, Ms. Fox?”
“Sure,” I wanted this to be over.
“Walk me through what happened last night,” he readied the pen to take notes.
“I got home around six, after attending a charity auction. All of the lights were out, which I thought was odd because the electricity was on outside of the building. I didn’t think much of it, though,” I shook my head.
“It’s alright, when things like this happen its human habit to try and rationalize it.”
“Right, well I called out for Nate, but I didn’t get an answer. I decided to check the electrical board to make sure nothing had shorted which turned the lights back on. I went into my room to pack my belongings because I planned on staying with Tim that night, and that is when I found Nate tied up on the bed, gagged,” a small sob escaped at the thought.
“And how did this Matt character get into the apartment? No windows nor doors are broken.”
“He had stolen my key.”
“And how exactly did he manage to steal your key, Ms. Fox?”
“I had gone to a nightclub the night before. He works there as a bartender. When I left he approached me on the street and pinned me to the wall, he must have stolen it then.”
“You didn’t notice the key was missing when you returned home?”
“No, my roommate had let me in that night.”
“Sure,” he didn’t bother to look up from the notepad. “Matt, you have a history with him?”
“She doesn’t have to answer that,” Mr. Thomas chimed in.
“It’s a harmless question, Mr. Thomas,” the detective barked back.
“Harmless in what way? If my client agrees that she knows the suspect, you’ll say she wanted him to come over. If she says she didn’t, you’ll question why a woman would let a man touch her without checking her things.”
“I do know him,” I ignored Mr. Thomas, “I know him from back home. We dated.”
“I see, and things ended badly?”
“Yes, I left Minnesota and moved here to get away from him. He’s always been abusive,” my body shuddered at the thought of our relationship.
“Of course, you documented this abuse, no?”
“No, I didn’t,” I could feel the blood rushing to my face.
“Right. After you found your roommate tied on the bed, what happened then?”
“I tried to resonate with Matt. It didn’t work, though. Thankfully Terry came up after I didn’t return to the vehicle and he subdued him, allowing me to call t
he police.”
“Why didn’t you call the police prior to Terry?”
“I tried, but Matt took my phone.”
“Okay. I think that’s all for today, Ms. Fox. Should we need anything further we’ll call you back down to the station,” the detective stood, walking out of the room and leaving me alone with Mr. Thomas.
“Ms. Fox, I’m here to protect your interests. In your mind this world of justice is black and white, but that is far from the truth. Next time I’d advise you to listen to me,” the old man stood, also leaving the room.
I let out a large sigh before picking myself up and meeting Tim in the lobby.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine. Is Nate out yet?”
“Here he comes now,” Tim pointed down the hallway.
Nate’s face was flushed and looked rather angry. “Nate,” I went to him, peering into his eyes, “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he sighed, “How come the police make you feel like you’re the problem? They made me out to be some helpless man, incapable of taking care of myself.”
I embraced him, “I know, they’re crap. It will all be okay, you are so far from helpless,” I squeezed his shoulders.
“I need to get to work,” he pulled away, “Should I call an Uber?”
“No, I’ve got a spare driver waiting for you out front, he’ll take you wherever you need to go,” Tim answered, “Blue Mercedes SUV.”
“Thanks man, and thanks for the lawyer. Didn’t realize I’d need one even though I’m a victim.”
“Don’t worry about it, let’s get to the office,” he said turning towards me. He outstretched his hand, which I took, and we walked to the car.
Terry drove Tim and I to the office. I peered from the window, watching the busy city before me. The people on the sidewalks were shoulder to shoulder, each person pushing their way through the crowd to wherever they needed to be. Each was so emerged in daily life that they mechanically went on their way. The routine of life seemed inevitable, unchangeable. No matter what you fell into it at some point. For Tim it was maids and security. Drivers and protection. For me the last six months had been interview after interview, a never-ending search for a job that seemed untouchable.
Loving Munroe Page 1
