KIRKLAND: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security)

by Glenna Sinclair

  Full breakfasts magically appeared on a table by the bed: crispy bacon, succulent sausages, eggs fluffy, over easy, poached, hardboiled, pancakes as light as air, thin crepes encasing fresh berries and cream, oatmeal in all incarnations, omelets stuffed with mushrooms and crisp peppers, and muffins I’d prefer even over cookies and cakes.

  There wasn’t a food item that was off the menu during lunch. I could wander down to the kitchen and request something from the chef or just give her free rein over what I’d be eating, which was what I did most often. I liked to watch her bustle over the stove. No matter what a person did, if they loved it, it was always apparent while they were doing it. She watched each pot and pan boil and simmer, stirring and tossing its contents, never burning or undercooking a single item. It was a glorious sight to behold, and I always felt that the food tasted even better after I’d watched her make it.

  I often requested breakfast items just because they were so good, but she also made a mean soup and sandwich combination, pastas, meats, Asian fusion, tacos, wraps, everything.

  The chef was on call for dinner, but we often didn’t utilize her services then. Levi enjoyed returning to the townhouse after work to find me there, waiting for him. He had been taking me to a different place for dinner every night since I’d arrived in the city, and I had yet to be disappointed.

  “What if I liked last night’s place so much that I wanted to go there tonight?” I’d tease him as he drove us to yet another restaurant.

  “You’ll just have to wait until it rotates back into our dinner schedule,” he’d say, those blue eyes sparkling even if his mouth was set in a straight line.

  “And just when will that be?”

  “Years and years from now.”

  It made me laugh, but it was true. There were so many restaurants just within a couple blocks of the townhouse. The idea that we were going to eat at every restaurant New York City had to offer without repeating one of them—as some restaurants closed and new ones opened in their places every single day—was exciting. My hometown’s claim to fame was a brand-new McDonald’s restaurant that I’d refused to eat in. I could get whatever I needed at the gas station for cheaper, usually. Coming to the Big Apple had broadened my world more than I could’ve possibly imagined. We saw everything—Times Square, the Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, Central Park. We did everything—ice skating, the movies, Broadway, boat rides. We went to museums together, to art galleries, to libraries and shops and shows. Even though I had the money I’d brought to the city with me, Levi insisted on buying me new clothes and shoes. We made a game of it, me trying on nearly every item in the little boutiques he took me to, modeling each and every one of my new outfits for him.

  In the end, I had more clothes than I ever had, even growing up, back in my hometown. And he still didn’t think I had enough. Sometimes he would come home from work and surprise me with a soft cashmere scarf or a silky dress or a handbag.

  “You have more fun shopping than I do,” I told him as he handed me a lingerie set of satin so soft that it seemed to have been spun from clouds.

  “I just happened to see it in a window somewhere,” he said, laughing. “What, you don’t like it? I can take it back.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I gasped, hugging it to my chest. “It’s mine, now. Too late.”

  “I could do without shopping,” he admitted, smiling as I held the lingerie out to admire it in the light from the window. “I just like the look on your face when I bring you something new.”

  I flushed and gave him a chaste kiss. The man had good taste in women’s fashion—good enough to doubt certain things about him. But then we had a delicious romp in bed and all of those misunderstood assumptions were laid to rest.

  “Why are you still single?” I’d ask him.

  “Who says I’m single?” he teased, dodging the question with humor until the day I demanded to know.

  “Do you want me to have a girlfriend?” he asked, folding his hands on the table between us like I imagined he must do at his business.

  “I don’t know,” I said, shrugging roughly. “I just think you’re a good catch, that’s all. I’m curious why you don’t have one.”

  “Never had time for one before,” he said, handing me a piece of pie the chef had prepared earlier that day. It was still warm.

  “Bullshit,” I snorted at him, taking a bite. God, she outdid herself with every dessert I tasted. This one had delectable, buttery, flaky crust encasing sweet peaches. It was perfect in every way.

  “I’m serious,” he said, sipping the brandy he preferred for dessert. “I’ve been focused on work for more years than I care to admit. It’s the reason I’ve enjoyed the business success I’m fortunate enough to have. But that also means that other areas of my life have been…sadly lacking in attention.”

  “Well, I hope those areas that have been sad are happy now,” I said, leaning back in my chair and resting my bare foot in his lap, fondling his cock through his pants.

  “Oh, I promise that part of me is very happy these days,” he said, winking at me, snagging my foot, and giving me a massage that was almost as good as the pie I continued to inhale.

  “I don’t want anyone else to know about you,” I said. “You promise me you’ll never tell anyone just how good of a boyfriend you are. You’re all mine.”

  “Oh, so I’m a boyfriend now?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me. “Whose boyfriend?”

  I laughed, feeling self-conscious. “A boyfriend in training. You still have much to learn.”

  Even as my life broadened, and my relationship with Levi broadened, as well, there was still one area of my existence that wasn’t broadened, and it troubled Levi all the time.

  “When are you going to figure out what you want to do with your life?” he asked me one night after we’d gotten back from our nightly dinner explorations, after we’d made love slowly, gently, our stomachs full of rich wine and food.

  I raised myself up off of his chest to look at him, trying to gauge the seriousness of his words.

  “When are you going to get off my back about it, Dad?” I half joked. His half smile told me that he was serious.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I like coming home to find you here,” he said, “but I don’t want you to get bored. Or fall behind. Or, I don’t know, Meagan. Help me out here. What do you want to do with your life?”

  We’d had a version of this conversation while aboard Levi’s jet, flying into the city that fateful day we’d met. I’d been able to distract him from a resolution then by joining the mile-high club, but it was looking like he wanted an answer, now.

  “Well, there are a lot more bars here than there were in my hometown,” I said, shrugging. “I know how to pour a beer and mix a cocktail, more or less.” Most of the patrons there had taken their liquor straight, but I figured I’d learn fast, if I had to.

  “But you don’t want to work in a bar forever, do you?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Those blue eyes were worried, and I couldn’t figure out why. He had all the money in the world that he could possibly need—billions of dollars. Why was he so interested in what I was going to do with money? In a flash of shame, I realized that I was mooching off of his kindness. He probably wanted me to get a job and move out of his townhouse so he could go back to his own life. At the very least, I expected that he’d like to see a little help with the rent. I realized it probably wasn’t very affordable.

  “If your passion is working in bars, then I applaud you,” he said. “Do you want to own your own bar? Manage one? Oversee the operation of a whole string of franchises?”

  “I’ve overstayed my welcome, haven’t I?” I asked him. It was an awkward question when we were both lying naked in bed, pressed up against each other.

  “No, absolutely not,” he insisted. “I’m just concerned about you.”

  I didn’t want his concern, or his attention, for this area of my life.

  �
��I’m not bored,” I said. “How could I be bored in this place?”

  His television got more channels than I thought possible, and one of my favorite pastimes had become watching foreign-language soap operas. It was fascinating trying to figure out the dramas without the aid of English subtitles, and I found myself more entertained by the explanations I came up with to make sense of the characters’ overwrought interactions.

  Even more entertaining than the television’s myriad windows into different realities were the literal windows in the townhouse. I loved to gaze out of them, watching all the different people who walked just outside, yards away from me, guessing at their purposes. The soap operas were usually too farfetched to be taken seriously, but the people outside our windows were real.

  Day after day, I started recognizing some of them as commuters who lived in nearby homes. They all had their own lives and jobs to attend to, hefting tote purses and briefcases, opening umbrellas to the rain that slung down from the sky, bundled in scarves to keep out the cold on the more blustery days. They all had their own lives, places to be, things to do.

  But the ones I didn’t recognize were even more intriguing. They carried shopping bags, interlopers in boroughs they rarely frequented, or had cameras slung around their necks and were as enchanted by this city as I was.

  I was too overstimulated to settle down and think about what to do with my own life when there were so many other lives to immerse myself in around me.

  “I can’t say that I’ve ever really been driven,” I lied, trying to keep him from worrying about me. “Is it rent money you want?”

  He actually laughed at me. “Do you think I need rent money?”

  “Well, no, but it’s the principle of the matter….”

  “I don’t need a cent from you, and I don’t want any, either,” he said, taking my hand. “Honestly, I’ve been happy to have a reason to spend money ever since you’ve been here. It’s been really fun.”

  It was my turn to laugh at him. “Poor little rich boy.”

  “I was just raised to know exactly what I was going to be doing,” he said, kissing my hand before releasing it, his eyes far away. “My parents were well to do, but they didn’t want me relying on them. I paid my way through school because they thought it would build character. I amassed some debt, getting my master’s degree, but I started paying it off immediately with my designs.”

  I watched him as he relived his past, drawn in deeper by him than any of the programs I watched on the television or the people who passed by outside. Levi never really talked about himself or his past, so I was eager to glean whatever knowledge I could.

  “When my parents saw the kinds of buildings and houses and theaters I was designing, they knew I’d do big things,” he continued. “But they still didn’t help me, letting me put in my time under bosses and companies with less vision than I had but more money. I did designs I didn’t believe in just to make rent, to make sure I was paying down my debt every month. But I started working my way up, started freelancing, started saving what money I could.”

  “You were driven as hell.” I understood why he was puzzled at my lackadaisical approach. He’d worked hard for everything and had been successful, but I’d been forced to put my life on hold for probably too long. I couldn’t really put my experience in words to help him understand.

  “I took out loans to create my company, when I decided I was ready,” he said, smiling at me. “And the first month, when I knew it was time to make a payment, my accountant informed me that the loans had been paid in full. My parents had watched me work hard and succeed, and they repaid my efforts.”

  “That’s really amazing of them,” I said. How different would my life have turned out if I’d had different parents, been born into a different family, had the kinds of opportunities that Levi had? Maybe I would’ve been a billionaire, too. Or, if not that, at least happy.

  But maybe I was happy right now, lying in bed next to this amazing man. It hurt me just how good he was, how talented to build all of this from nothing, without a single handout from his parents until he’d finally made it.

  I just hoped he never found out how messed up I was.

  Chapter 9

  I thought a lot about what Levi had said, about me needing to figure out what I needed to do with my life. I wasn’t always so sure about just how permanent I was in my life. Maybe that was the deeper reason why I hadn’t really considered a serious career or future. My tragedy had been so complete that I’d drifted for a whole year without direction, and it was going to be difficult to come back from that.

  The only thing I could figure to do, while Levi and I both racked our brains for a solution to my present inaction, was to make sure he knew I cared deeply for him and was thankful for everything he had done for me—and continued to do.

  On a random Tuesday, I had the chef make up a pair of lunches while Levi was working. While she was packing them away into containers, I looked up directions to his architectural firm. It didn’t seem so far, but it required me taking the subway—an experience I hadn’t yet enjoyed. I knew that Levi employed a car to get him to and from the office every day, but I didn’t want to engage its services. I wanted to keep my visit a surprise.

  I got dressed in one of the frocks he’d brought me—a mint-colored one he said contrasted with my hair—strapped on some heels, and covered it all with a nearly floor-length woolen coat. With a quick dusting of makeup, I grabbed my purse and the lunches and was out the door.

  I had to laugh at myself. After all of the people watching I’d been doing, I understood within a couple of blocks why I’d never seen any of the commuters wearing heels. New York just wasn’t the right sized city for stilettos—at least not for me.

  I made it to the station well enough, but the stairs leading down nearly killed me. It was a relief to make it to the train and heave myself into a seat, giving my feet a break as we rocked through the tunnels, arteries of the city above our heads.

  Levi hadn’t taken me by his work since I’d been in the city, even though we’d rambled all over the island and beyond. He probably hadn’t thought about it, more eager to show me the places in New York City everyone else wanted to see. I was certain my grand gesture would please him, bringing him home-cooked food unexpectedly.

  I walked out of the subway station and found myself right in the midst of the world, it seemed like. People crushed around me, all intent on getting to their respective offices or errands or sightseeing. The buildings were so tall when it was just me standing beneath them, and I tried not to gawk. It was practically Christmas, and everyone seemed to be carrying parcels. I loved imagining what was inside of them and who they were going to. The possibilities were endless.

  I followed the directions on my phone until I stood in front of a gorgeous and modern building—a departure from the way Levi decorated his own home. It was all angles and glass and concrete and modern, minimalist white. Even the receptionist on the ground floor wore white—though it could’ve been a random act.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, looking at me and my bags of food.

  “Oh, no,” I said, smiling. “I know where I’m going. And I want to keep it a surprise.”

  “Miss, I have to know where you’re going,” she said. “It’s a matter of security.”

  “Okay.” I resigned to have my secret spoiled right as it was about to happen. “I’m here to see Levi—Levi Morgan. I was going to surprise him with lunch. But you can tell him, if you have to. I understand.”

  Her face softened. “You can go right up—top floor,” she said. “All the office walls are glass, though, so your surprise might be spoiled pretty fast. Sorry I was so adamant. We’ve had some very recent changes to our policies here.”

  “No worries.” I went to the elevator, a little dazzled that it, too, was glass, and rode it to the top. The building was a dizzying fifty stories straight up, and I saw others around it get smaller and smaller from my vantage point in the elevat
or. It was a good thing I wasn’t afraid of heights—that is, I didn’t think I’d ever had an opportunity like this one to be afraid of heights.

  The view behind me, as the elevator doors rolled open, was just as arresting. The receptionist had warned me that it was all glass, but that still didn’t prepare me for just how beautiful, glittering, and modern it all was. I couldn’t believe that this was Levi’s company, that he came here every day—well, the days when he could pull himself away from me to make it in to the office—and created more beautiful things.

  The very design of the building, this office, in particular, was so different from who I knew Levi and it amused me. At the same time, it made sense. He had parts of him that were old-fashioned—the way he held doors for me, drove me all over the city, spent his money on me. But there were other parts that were modern. He didn’t expect anything out of me, letting me be my own person while pushing me to be better still. He believed in me.

  Seeing this office for the first time was like examining that other part of him, the one who had worked really hard to get to where he was, and the one who had amassed his wealth because of his talent instead of mooching off of his family. I admired that about him, and wished he would tell me more. I ached for that more. I could’ve sat for hours and read books about Levi, if they were out there. I was hungry for knowledge about him. About how he was so amazing. About what had made him like that.

  I walked uncertainly, not sure where I was going in spite of all the glass, until my eyes locked on the biggest office, toward the back of the floor. If the man’s name was on the outside of the building, that’s where he’d be, I wagered. I walked with more confidence, until I saw him, talking with a group of burly men in the same dark suit and ties, all with earpieces in.

  I hesitated, and he happened to turn at the same time, locking eyes with me.

  I smiled and waited for him to return the expression, but he didn’t. He looked puzzled, first, then he paled, like he was frightened. Then, unless I was way off, he was angry, pushing past one of the guys in the suits and out his door to meet me.