I’m just not in the mood tonight, feeling defeated that this trip really turned out to be a waste. I turn the corner to head towards the exit and I stop.
There’s a photograph hanging on the wall in black and white. Three women hold flowers, looking as if they’re picking off petal by petal like elementary school girls at recess. I step closer and see the words “He loves me, he loves me not” on the photograph and my heart stops. How beautiful, yet how heartbreaking all at once.
Why can’t it be as easy as picking off petals? Why can’t he just love me? Open up to me? Tell me what his battles are so I can slay them for him, or at least with him for god’s sake. Why does he have to be so stubborn?
But no. If I played this little girl’s game what would I end up with?
I look at my phone to see no missed calls or texts.
An empty flower.
He loves me not.
The night ends as weird as the day started. I come home to find Serena passed out on the couch covered in blankets and tissues. Spotting a thermometer on the coffee table and an empty cup with a teabag inside, I realize my roommate is as sick as a dog. I really want to be upset with her for the low blows I felt her and Jack were handing out to me in the hallway, but there’s no way when I see her like this.
I hear her whimper as she rolls over, and I spot a tissue shoved up her nose. I want to laugh, I really do, but instead I go to the kitchen to make her a fresh cup of tea.
When I walk back into the room she’s awake and sitting up now minus the snot trap.
“Here you go.”
I hand her the hot mug and she smiles as she tries her hardest to breathe in the delicious scent of the peppermint tea with no luck.
“Thank you. I didn’t hear you come in, have you been home long?” she manages to ask with a scratchy throat. I don’t think in all the years we’ve been rooming together I’ve seen her sick. Hungover, hell yes. Sick, no.
“I just walked in minutes ago. What happened to you?” I ask, leaning over to put the back of my hand on her forehead confirming that she still has a fever. “You’re burning up!”
She takes a sip of the tea and then pulls her blanket higher up around her. “I know but I’m so cold. I have the flu.”
“Want me to draw you a bath or something?”
“No, but thanks girl. I’ll just drink this tea and lay back down, try to sleep it off.”
Even though I’m a freakin’ doctor and deal with sick people all day long, I feel completely helpless in my own house. It’s just different when it’s someone you personally know, I guess.
“If you need me, I’ll be in my room,” I say as I move the tissue box closer to her.
“Thanks Ariana, and I’m sorry.”
“Sorry … for what?”
“For everything that was said the other day. I’m so ecstatic you found Luke and that you see something in each other. I haven’t seen you this happy in the entire time I’ve known you. Don’t let what Jack and I said get in your head—I know you, you’ll think too much about it and that’s my fault.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her that whatever I had with Luke is very questionable right now. She doesn’t need to hear me vent when she’s trying to fight off the flu, so I slip quietly into my room and grab my Kindle to get lost in a romance novel. At least someone’s getting laid tonight—a fictional someone, but a someone nonetheless.
I hopelessly check my phone one last time for any sign of a call or text from Luke. I even desperately check my email. All coming up empty.
He said he’d call me tonight. That was a lie.
Whatever.
Chapter nineteen
Days like today remind me why I work. I hate having the day off. What the hell am I supposed to do with myself? Serena is still recovering, camped out on the couch. I haven’t seen much of Drake since Luke’s been in my life. And calling him right now would only result in his smug face telling me, “I told you so.” No thanks.
That leaves … no one else.
I head to my bedroom and clear some space before throwing in a workout DVD into my DVD player. It’s been a while since I’ve done a workout of any kind—unless you want to count sex with Luke. Okay, no, let’s not count that. Let’s get that out of my memory bank altogether.
I press play and let my mind focus on trying my damn hardest to copy the moves of the perky blonde lady on the screen shouting, “You’re not even tired!” at me for the next 45 minutes. By the end of the Turbo Fire session I feel like I can’t walk … or breathe … or even make it to the bathroom to take a shower. But somehow my wobbly legs carry me. I have a tug-of-war fight trying to wrestle my sweaty sports bra off and then jump in to let the cold water bring my body back down to a normal temperature.
When I hop out of the heavenly shower, I notice my phone is lit up—a text message.
I’d love to take you out to dinner to apologize for last night. Are you free?
Well, what the shit. Am I free? Just like that he wants to crawl his way back into my life with yet another apology. Actually, he’s not crawling at all—he’s waltzing in like it’s no big deal. I shoot back a reply to get him out of my hair.
I’m not sure dinner is a good idea. I’m busy tonight.
I can’t imagine him as the kind of guy glued to his phone, but he replies within seconds of my blow off message.
I understand. What about lunch?
Pushy much? I think so. Okay I said I was busy for dinner, so how the hell do I get out of lunch?
I don’t think I’ll be hungry at lunch. I ate a big breakfast. :/
I didn’t even eat breakfast and I know that was the dumbest response I’ve ever typed up before in my life, but I don’t care.
Ariana—What about coffee? Tea? Water? You want to sit and stare at each other? You don’t even have to stare at me, just be near me. I don’t care what we are doing or what time of day, I’d just like to see you.
Do I want to see him again? Yes, I guess I do. All the moping around I did yesterday proves that. But do I want him to know that? Ugh, no.
I guess lunch is fine.
I caved. Yes, I am that girl. Yes, I don’t care right now what you think. I missed him and I want to talk to him about what the hell happened the other night.
I’m glad you changed your mind! :) Can you meet at my office around 11:30?
Who is this? I’m thrown by the fact that you—a tough manly tatted up CEO— just sent me a smiley face emoji. Did a 15-year-old girl hack your phone?
Do you want me to hold in my excitement? Fine. I knew you’d agree. Now get your hot ass to my office.
And just like that, my Luke is back! My Luke? I don’t question my own inner stupidity. Instead, trying to channel my inner Serena, I put together a ‘you made a big mistake, take a look at me now’ outfit to hopefully wow this man.
Stepping out of my Driver ride to Vulcano Vodka Towers in a tight black pencil skirt and red blouse with matching red pumps makes me feel empowered and confident … until I approach the girl at the front desk on the lobby floor.
A Vulcano girl.
She’s wearing a pair of gorgeous Christian Louboutins, an equally tight black pencil skirt, and a white blouse. And unlike my long light brown hair, she’s a blonde. Let’s not forget, she’s the secretary. Does Luke have a type and is it this girl’s look?
Focus Ariana—you aren’t here to check out the secretary.
On the car ride over I gave myself this “mission” to keep from quickly falling for Luke’s lame ass apology.
“Mission Possible: Don’t be charmed by Luke’s hot body, sexy smoldering stare, or knowing his rippling muscles are hiding tattoos no one else but me knows are there.”
I step into the elevator with a pair of men in business suits and briefcases. Thank god, no more Vulcano girls.
“What floor?” one of the men asks, eyeing me up and down.
“33,” I squeak out, feeling inadequate all of a sudden.
“33, huh?” the other man as
ks.
“What does that mean?” I finally find my voice.
This elevator has got to be the slowest moving elevator in the history of elevators. I think it’s taking longer to get to Luke’s office than it would to climb all the way to the top of the Willis Tower. And I feel uncomfortable with these guys.
“Mr. Vulcano’s office is the only thing on floor 33. Are you prepared for that? He’s a pretty intimidating guy,” he says, giving me this stare yet again. “I know one intern left the building in tears after going to floor 33. Prepare yourself.”
Oh, they think I’m an intern.
I don’t know if I should find that cute or insulting. And what’s with this story about Luke making someone cry?
The elevator stops on floor 25 and the two men get off, not before I can so graciously thank them for the warning about the intimidating Mr. Vulcano. The doors close and now alone I feel like I reach floor 33 in a matter of seconds. Is this some kind of magic time wrap contraption?
Stepping out of the elevator there’s a long desk with yet another a drop dead gorgeous looking blonde woman behind it. I’d guess she’s in her late 20s. With fair skin and green eyes, this woman could be a Disney princess. Instantly, I feel jealous that she gets to spend time every day with Luke. But before I can hate on her, she greets me with a kind smile.
“Hello! You must be Ariana. I’m Tracy, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says, standing up from her desk to shake my hand before walking me towards the double doors outside of Luke’s office. “He’s been waiting for you.”
She opens the door gesturing in an elegant Vanna White motion for me to walk inside. I thank her and shut the door behind me, instantly spotting Luke.
He gets up from his grand looking desk and walks towards me. He stops when we’re standing in front of one another, neither wanting to be the first to break the silence. I simply have no clue what to say.
“I’m glad you came,” he says, reaching his hand out to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear that’s escaped my long ponytail. “You look as stunning as ever.” Before I have a chance to respond, his phone rings, he walks back around his desk, and we both spot Lisa’s name on the caller ID. “I have to answer this.”
“Of course,” I say, taking a seat in a comfortable chair across from his desk.
“Hello,” he answers and the tone of his raspy voice mixed with seeing him behind his desk does something to me. I feel a sense of arousal, a need. I know he’s a powerful man—no one becomes the CEO of the most popular vodka brand in the world by sitting around on his ass—but seeing him right now in his element turns me on.
Lisa must be doing all the talking as he nods his head and murmurs, “yes … okay … I see.”
Even though he’s on the phone, his eyes haven’t left my body. They scan from the top of my head to the hem of my skirt. The passion I feel for him intensifies with his smoldering glaze. With his eyes locked on mine, I take it upon myself to make him feel the way I do, to make him regret not calling me back, to make him see what he’s missed out on.
I ever so slowly uncross my legs and slide my fingers down to the end of my skirt to hike it up just a little before crossing my legs again. His hazel eyes darken—he gets my message loud and clear—and just to make sure, I lick my lips and gently bite down on my bottom one.
“Lisa, get to the point,” Luke shouts into the phone. “Okay I’ll be right there.”
Then he slams the phone down and stalks over to me like I’m his prey. He hovers over me with his arms on either side of the chair and he growls into my ear, “You want to put on a show Ariana? Are you trying to tease me? I’d love to see what else you can do.”
He trails passionate kisses down my neck until I hear myself let out a moan, which causes him to instantly pull back. “I’m sorry to cut this short. We will finish where we left off, don’t worry. I told Lisa I’d go down to this photo shoot we’re doing for the new campaign to double check a few things. Do you mind joining me before we go to lunch?”
“Lisa works with you?”
“Yes, she’s in charge of marketing and promotions.”
I don’t know why I never knew this before. There’s still so much to this man and his family I know absolutely nothing about.
Trying to be agreeable I say, “I don’t mind, let’s go.”
We hop into the town car with Ryan driving and travel just outside of downtown Chicago to what looks like an art district. Breathtaking graffiti covers businesses, statues, and murals all over this hidden gem of a block. The car pulls up in front of a warehouse and Ryan opens my door.
“This should only take a minute or two,” Luke says, putting his hand on the small of my back leading me inside. The warehouse has many windows allowing light to shine through in contrast to the black and grey painted brick walls. In the center of a large empty room is a King-sized bed covered in white bedding and on a nightstand sits a single glass of vodka. Very classy, very sexy.
Lisa rushes up to us clearly frazzled. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking this frantic—even when she came into the hospital.
“What’s wrong?” Luke is the first to ask as she stops with a clipboard directly in front of us, looking like she’s on the brink of tears. I immediately want to pull her into a big hug.
What the fuck? I’ve never wanted to pull anyone into a big hug before.
“Our female model is sick. She showed up and threw up like four times and we had to rush her to the hospital. I don’t know what I’m going to do!”
“Lisa, it’s not a big deal, can’t we reschedule this with a new model or when this one is feeling better?”
She slumps her shoulders looking utterly defeated.
“I wish! This photo shoot was already pushed back once and now it’s due to the publishers if we want it to be in print by the holidays. There’s so much money riding in this.”
I watch as Luke goes from concerned brother to instant dominating CEO. He scans the room and Lisa’s clipboard looking for any sign of help.
“We can’t do this photo shoot with just the male model?”
It’s then I notice a rack of clothing to the side of the bed, and huddled around it is a man with a large camera draped around his neck beside an attractive looking man in a white robe.
“Ugh, god no. We need to have a female model. This shoot is all about romance, passion, intimacy,” Lisa cries.
“Okay, let’s go talk to Neil. He should be able to come up with something,” Luke offers. Lisa rolls her eyes at her brother as they both head over to the photographer, who I learn is Neil. I stay back by the food table, not wanting to be anyone’s way while they solve this dilemma. I have no advice to offer.
I grab a small bottle of water and turn around from the table as Neil rushes up to me while Lisa is right behind him. He grabs the water out of my hand and pulls me away from the table.
“Excuse me!” I say, not prepared to me manhandled today.
“Her!” Neil shouts towards Lisa, pointing at me frantically. Luke strolls over to us with a look of confusion on his face to match mine.
Lisa shakes her head in agreement. “Yes! Ariana is perfect. I’m an idiot for not thinking of this sooner.”
“No.” Luke’s one word silences us all. Neil and Lisa turn towards him with jaws dropped.
“Luke, please, we need her help,” Lisa pleads with her brother.
“My help? Is anyone going to let me in on what the hell is going on here?” I ask, pulling myself out of Neil’s tight grasp. It’s then that all three of them turn to face me with intent stares.
Neil reaches behind my head, yanks my ponytail holder out of my long hair, and says, “See!”
“Okay, enough touching!” I say, dodging him as I try to smooth down my crazy hair.
This entire situation is making me uncomfortable.
“Ariana, would you help us?” Lisa asks. She looks at me like my answer will change her whole world.
I still don’t understand.
“No, we don’t need you as a doctor,” she smiles at me a little too sweetly, “we need you as our … model. Please, please, please with a cherry on top.”
I bust out laughing, looking around for someone to be filming.
“Is this some kind of hidden camera prank show? Is there where you tell me I just got punk’d?”
“Girl, we don’t have time for games. Are you going to help us or not?” Neil asks with a hand on his hip and an intense gaze I feel deep in my bones. Damn, this guy is seriously bossy and I’m a little scared.
I look into Lisa’s sad pleading eyes and then shock myself by making a decision 100-percent out of my comfort zone: “Fine, I’ll try.”
“Yay! Thank you so much,” Lisa squeals while jumping up and down clapping her hands. For the love of god, I hope I didn’t just make the biggest mistake ever.
I look towards Luke, who hasn’t said much during this exchange except the word no. He’s now staring over at the photo shoot set in silence. Lisa pulls me near a rack of women’s clothing away from everyone else. She grabs the rack and rolls it off in another direction, and I follow quickly behind her.
We walk into a makeshift dressing room, complete with a vanity and lights. Lisa hands me a red pair of underwear and what has got to be the smallest lingerie I’ve ever seen.
“Put this on,” she instructs, shoving the clothes at me and pointing towards a secluded room just past the vanity.
“Where’s the rest of it?” I ask, holding up the underwear to inspect it.
“Rest of what?”
“The outfit I’m supposed to wear. You just gave me underwear.”
She smiles like she’s got a juicy secret. This must be a technique that runs in her family because I’ve seen the same grin plastered across her brother’s face a time or two. And it’s annoying.
“That’s it,” Lisa answers, pointing towards the clothes in my hand. “Now we don’t have all day for you to get your panties up in a bunch, literally. Go, change, now.” This time she shoves me into the room, closing the door behind me.
The Power of Salvation Page 15
