Restrained

by Nicole Dykes

  “For all of us.”

  I take a deep breath, approving of that answer. “And your parents just took her in? A kid off the street?”

  That sends a flash of anger my way, but she manages to keep her cool. “She wasn’t just a street kid. She isn’t a piece of dirt beneath you or me because she wasn’t born with money like we were. She’s a phenomenal person, and my mother fell in love right along with us.”

  I like the protectiveness inside this woman for Penelope, but I don’t show it. “Your father?”

  She looks away and out the window. “My father doesn’t love anyone.”

  Daddy issues. Not shocking. Sort of explains why Lola gave up her high paying, father-given job and moved across the country to start her own business. But not really.

  “Did he hurt her?”

  Her eyes snap to mine. “No. My father doesn’t care about anything or anyone enough to hurt them.”

  “You don’t have to care to beat on someone.”

  “Indifference is the most painful feeling of them all, Hayden.” She takes a step closer to me, her eyes cold and almost eerie. “But it isn’t physical. It’s emotional, and that’s the only kind of pain my father has ever inflicted.”

  Okay. So, this woman is more of a mystery than I let myself believe.

  I hate the deep-seated pain I see in her eyes. I want her to be boring. I need her to be an airheaded yuppie, only caring about her next big purchase and not having torment burning in her soul that calls to my own pain.

  Soulless bitches, I can handle.

  “Who are you, Lola Sterling?”

  “I’m boring. Remember?”

  I swallow and look into her beautiful eyes.

  I’m trying to remember that.

  I pull into my garage and take a moment to sit behind the wheel, laying my forehead against it with my hands still gripping it.

  Who the hell is Hayden West?

  He screams entitled brat, but then when he speaks, and I look directly into his eyes, taking time to actually study him, . . . it just doesn’t fit.

  He’s a mystery. And like Hayden, I don’t like mysteries.

  I tried to answer his questions without giving too much away because I just want to get the work done and be finished with him. If he needs questions answered, then so be it, but I can’t shake the way he makes me feel.

  Vulnerable. Exposed. Terrified.

  Not of him hurting me. At least not physically, but of the unknown. Of thinking about him long after I leave him. I haven’t ever experienced that in my life.

  I take a few deep breaths and then climb out of my car, walking into the house and finding Viv and Baz outside swimming in the pool. They’re both laughing and seem carefree even though I know Vivienne has a million things on her mind.

  She’s a damn good mother who can seem perfectly fine on the outside while she aches inside.

  Which is tricky for a friend like me who’s worried about her. Listening to Sebastian’s sweet little laugh makes my heart soar but also squeeze in agony. It mirrors Colt’s to a T. He had such a distinct laugh, one I never thought could be copied. But Baz has it.

  Somehow, he left his laughter for us.

  I close my eyes and listen for a moment, going back to a time when I had three brothers on this earth with me. Brothers I took for granted. Love I took for granted.

  I was driven from a young age. My father demonstrated his disappointment quickly that his oldest was, in fact, female. I wanted to prove to him I could be strong and powerful, a force to be reckoned with.

  I didn’t date. I didn’t hang out with friends often. I worked hard.

  I didn’t pay attention to what was happening around me, and I know I failed my younger brothers.

  “Aunt Lola!” I open my eyes just in time to be mauled by my sweet nephew and nearly knocked down as he bear hugs me. “You’re home!”

  I know he misses Asher. They were buddies, and I’m well aware that Asher may never forgive me for their time apart. But hopefully, he’ll join us soon.

  I smile at Vivienne as she exits the pool and walks to where Baz and I are still hugging. She wraps a towel around his little shoulders, and I laugh when he pulls away from me, leaving a huge wet mark on my clothing. “Did you have fun while I was gone?”

  He nods exuberantly. “I did. We went to the zoo and went swimming!”

  “That’s great. Are you hungry?” He nods again, and we go inside.

  Vivienne gestures to Sebastian with a smile I swear is permanently on her face when she looks at her son. “Go change into your clothes, buddy, and I'll start dinner.”

  He nods, and Viv walks to the fridge still in her swimsuit, gathering some ingredients.

  I lean my butt against the counter. “I can maybe figure out how to start making it if you want to go change.”

  She smiles and grabs a large pan, filling it with water and then placing it on the burner. “I’m just going to get the water started for the pasta, and then I’ll go change.” She turns the burner on and then turns to me. “Did you have a good day?”

  No. “It was work.” I smile with a slight shrug.

  “You love your work though, right? I mean, that’s why you recruited me, isn’t it?”

  I laugh and pop one of the cherry tomatoes she took out of the fridge into my mouth. I don’t want to scare her away. She’s taking a couple of design classes, and then she’ll start working with us soon. “I do. The clients aren’t always great.”

  She nods her head, wrapping her arms around her bare stomach. “Penelope said the man that just hired you is something else.”

  “That he is.”

  “Is he cute?”

  I nearly laugh at the conversation that has turned almost juvenile. “Cute?”

  “You asked about Sawyer. I thought I’d continue the girl talk.”

  I have to admit I don’t have a lot of female friends, or friends in general. The person I'm closest to is Penelope. “I definitely wouldn’t call him cute.” She looks disappointed, and I shake my head, smiling in her direction. “He’s gorgeous. Stubborn. Frustrating. Spoiled and entitled. Domineering.”

  She shrugs. “Sounds like a few men I know.”

  I cringe, knowing she’s talking about my brothers and probably Sawyer. “He’s hiding something.”

  Now she looks slightly concerned. “How do you know?”

  “I don’t.” I push off the counter and sigh. “I can’t describe it, but I feel it. I know he’s hiding something. He’s interested in Penelope.”

  She seems to think that over and then jerks her shoulder in a shrugging motion again. “Well then, problem solved. Linc will kill him for you.”

  I laugh, liking Vivienne’s playful side. “He better not before I get paid.”

  We giggle for a minute, and then she goes upstairs to change while I tackle making the salad. A menial task I can handle.

  My phone rings and despite seeing Hayden’s number, I answer it. “Hello?”

  His deep voice comes through the phone, feeling familiar to me already. “I liked your notes today. Go ahead and send the final orders over to Gretchen so we can get started. Just the things we talked about today. Every new idea needs to come to me first.”

  And I thought I was a control freak. “Absolutely.”

  “I’d like to meet in a few days at hotel number two.”

  “Aren’t they all to be the same?”

  That was my understanding anyway. His irritation is palpable even if I can’t see his face. “Yes, but it’s still a different location. I want you to be inside of every one of them to get the correct feel.”

  His intensity is unmatched and somehow thrilling to me. “Alright.”

  “Goodbye, Lola.” That’s all before he hangs up the phone.

  Who are you, Hayden West?

  “Red? No.”

  Lola huffs, clearly sick of me, but I don’t care. She’s dressed in a black pencil skirt with a v-neck button-down black blouse, and even a black bel
t around her waist. But the all-black look, paired with her sunny blond hair, somehow doesn’t seem dark.

  Some people dressed in all black would look like they were heading to a funeral. But not her. She just looks professional and sexy as hell.

  And it’s fucking distracting.

  “Red would be the perfect pop of color in the room.”

  I hate that she doesn’t back down. “Fucking red?”

  “You have a problem with red? Would you prefer bright pink?” One hand rests on her hip as her head cocks to the right.

  That question nearly brings a smile to my lips, but I fight it. “No.”

  She looks around the bedroom in the second hotel. “Black bedding with very, very slight gold trim. Black drapes. You need some hint of color.”

  “So, a red chair.”

  “Yes.” She nods her head with conviction, and I give in.

  “Okay. Fine.”

  She walks to the corner of the room. “And what about a desk?”

  “No.”

  She turns to look at me, irritation creeping over her gorgeous face again as I watch her taking a deep breath, which keeps her from lunging to choke the life out of me. “Why? Hotels have desks.”

  “Not this one.”

  “This like your ‘no TV in the bedroom’ thing?”

  Her perfectly manicured eyebrow lifts in amusement, and this time I do smile. She doesn’t like my rules. “Yes. No desk. Desks promote work. We’re promoting leisure.”

  “Okay, Mr. Career. You’re telling me you wouldn’t be working nonstop if you were staying here?”

  I take a seat on the edge of the mattress and loosen the tie around my neck. “I would be. I’m sure.”

  “Exactly.” She points at me like she already knew that. “You and everyone I know is career-driven. Even when we’re on vacation, we’re working. The room needs a desk.”

  “I told you what the bedroom is for.”

  I like the blush that creeps up her neck to her cheeks at the mention of the bedroom. And my thoughts quickly move to what she’s like in bed. She’s a fighter, but she probably likes to be made love to. A sensitive soul.

  Not for me.

  “Fucking and sleeping.”

  I smile, liking the word “fucking” coming from her mouth way too much. “Yup.”

  She walks across the floor, surprising me when she joins me on the bed, crossing her ankles. “Desk in the living room area then?”

  She looks through the doorway as if she’s already trying to imagine the desk out there.

  “No.”

  She groans, lifting her hands to cover her face and slowly dragging them down to sit in her lap. She turns to look at me. “No desk at all? You really feel that strongly about it? You and I both know that desk or no desk, a workaholic is going to work.”

  I shrug. “So they will. I won’t encourage it though.”

  “You’re infuriating.”

  For whatever reason, that makes me laugh, a sound I haven’t heard coming from myself for a while. And it makes her smile.

  Lola’s smile is dangerous. It’s as beautiful as she is with her bright white teeth and full lips, and it lights up her already beautiful face.

  She was made for smiling.

  “I’m a workaholic, but I want a place I can relax.”

  “So you’re spending millions of dollars just to find a place where you can relax?” Her eyebrow is lifted, and she’s wearing a proud smirk.

  “Well, if you can’t find it, build it.”

  “Perfect motto.”

  I smile, and it’s a real smile, one I feel deep down, one that’s trying to connect with hers.

  Her eyes are fixed on mine, and the connection has been made. I could lean over and kiss her right now, and we’d both be powerless to stop it.

  But I don’t.

  And she doesn’t.

  “Workaholics don’t usually promote relaxation.”

  “I’ll be thirty in three days. It’s not supposed to be old.” My voice is quiet even if no one else is in the hotel. The construction crew left an hour ago. “But I'm so fucking tired.”

  I watch her delicate throat as she swallows, and I swear she has unshed tears in her eyes as she studies me. “I know exactly what you mean.” Her voice is also quiet, and I know she does.

  I want her to be a spoiled princess, the type I hate. But she has something deep under her surface.

  The loss of her brother?

  Maybe.

  “Why did you leave your father’s company? You had it made there, I'm sure.”

  She flinches at my blunt question and then straightens her back like the professional she is. “I didn’t want to be just Mr. Sterling’s daughter. I wanted to find out who I am without him.”

  Fuuuck . . . I hate how perfect that answer is.

  “That’s brave.”

  She shrugs. “Not if you know my father.”

  Daddy issues again. “I don’t.”

  “You seem to know of me. My family.”

  I’m going to give too much away. “I started my business in Kansas City. Everyone knows of the Sterlings there.”

  She looks surprised, her pretty eyes shining with so many questions. “You’re from Kansas City?”

  She’s going to find me out. It has to be obvious to her now. Of course, would it be so bad? Yeah. Maybe. “Yes.”

  “I don’t remember a prominent West family there. We’re close to the same age. How didn’t we go to the same school?”

  She thinks I grew up like she did. Privileged. Going to private schools.

  “It’s a big city.”

  She’s eyeing me with suspicion but seems to think better of calling me out. “I suppose it is. How did you end up here?”

  “College.”

  She nods her head, accepting my answer that, for the record, is not a lie. I worked my ass off and had a full ride to Stanford.

  “No desk. No television in the bedroom, but a red chair in the corner.”

  I turn to look at the bare corner and nod my head. “Yes.”

  “Progress.”

  “I like it.”

  “Still hate me?”

  My eyes can’t seem to look away from her plump lip after her question.

  “I hate everything.”

  Her lips turn up into another smile, and it’s knowing.

  Because I don’t hate her. Not even a little.

  We should go back to hating each other. That’s less dangerous. I definitely hate how unbelievably gorgeous he is when he smiles.

  I hate his laugh.

  I hate that he told me something real.

  And most of all . . . I hate how little I hate all of that.

  He is beyond infuriating. Set in his ways and so incredibly frustrating, but there’s a vulnerability to him that makes me want to know everything about him.

  At hotel number three, we go with the exact plan already set at the other two but add a couple of things to all three.

  He’s right. Going to the building sites has helped me see his vision.

  I feel a kinship with him I can’t explain. He has a drive inside him that matches my own.

  We’re going over the purchase orders, sitting on the bed when I hear heels clicking on the living room floor and instantly my hackles rise.

  Gretchen walks into the bedroom not long after, her eyes glowing with hatred when she sees me on the bed with Hayden. The way she’s looking at me, I might as well be naked, but I'm fully clothed and sitting several feet away from him.

  “Gretchen. I’ll have a few more orders for you after today.” Hayden doesn’t look up from his phone, completely oblivious to his assistant’s jealous glare as he sits on the bed in his black suit and tie.

  As always, Gretchen looks beautiful on the outside. Tight, black skinny pants on her legs paired with a white camisole and a pink blazer. She looks professional even if she rarely acts that way around me.

  “Anything else, Hayden?”

  Her voice i
s sultry as she turns her gaze to him, but he still doesn’t lift his gaze from his phone. “No. That’s all for today.”

  Her eyes move back to me as they roam over my outfit. My blouse is floral with a white background and off the shoulder sleeves that flow to my elbows. It’s one of my favorites, and I paired it with a skintight pale pink skirt and beige heels. I’ve noticed since I've started working with Hayden, I’ve put even more thought into my appearance, and I wonder if she did the same thing.

  “I can stick around and help if you’d like?”

  Now Hayden lifts his eyes from his phone and to her. “No.”

  As much as I despise Gretchen, I nearly roll my eyes at Hayden’s signature response. The simple “no” with zero explanation is the most frustrating thing I’ve ever encountered. Her lips purse tightly as she nods. “Okay. I'll be in touch.”

  Hayden only offers a curt nod as she exits, and I hear the door slam shut before I turn to Hayden. “I have to ask.”

  “Don’t.”

  He’s in a mood today, but I don’t care. “What happened between you and Gretchen? Are you really that cliché that you slept with your assistant?”

  He looks more annoyed than furious as he eyes me. “Yes.”

  For some reason, I wasn’t expecting honesty. “What happened?”

  “We slept together. Once. I shouldn’t have, but I fucked up.”

  “She wanted more?” I try to sound bored and completely disinterested even though I'm dying to know more.

  He places his phone next to him on the bed, and his whole body shifts to face me. “Are we friends now or something?”

  I laugh, unable to stop it. “Well, I'm everything you hate.”

  I throw the words back at him, and he chuckles, the sound making my stupid heart flutter in my chest. Deep and manly, so slight it barely qualifies as a laugh and yet . . . it’s beautiful. “Maybe not, Lola.”

  “I wouldn’t mind trying the friend thing.”

  He smirks and shakes his head, sighing. “Yes. I think she wanted more. I definitely don’t.”