I Need You Now

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I Need You Now Page 3

by Cynthia P. O'Neill

He glanced at his watch and turned toward the door. “I’m sorry to drop you here and run, Nate. But we have a benefit gala our family is hosting to raise money for research for early detection of aneurysms. Maybe if we had more knowledge on the problem, my daughter might still be here.”

  His last words were a bit shaky, making me realize how much he missed his daughter. It was a shame that she and my best friend, Ethan, were involved in a car accident. Everyone first believed it was Ethan who caused Gabriella to die, but he was a victim just like her and came close to dying all because of that damn jerk Tom.

  Marissa’s ex-boyfriend had drugged both of our drinks at the frat party that night—only I never drank mine, while my friend had both. All because he was jealous of Marissa’s friendship with Ethan and hated me for wanting them to break up.

  We’d learned later that Gabi had an undetected aneurysm that burst on impact. At least they were able to keep her body alive long enough for her daughter to be born. It was hard to believe just how many lives were affected by one act of hatred.

  I reached into my wallet and grabbed a few hundreds. “Here, Alexander. I’d like to make a contribution. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I have on me right now.”

  “Thanks, Nate. No matter the size of the donation, it goes toward supporting a good cause, so that one day we can prevent unnecessary deaths from this malady.”

  ALEXANDER AND DERRICK LEFT me alone to figure out what I wanted to do first. I decided I’d look through the kitchen and take inventory of what food items I had left from my old apartment and get acquainted with the location of everything.

  It was no surprise to find my food choices were limited. I guess some of my leftover canned and boxed food items didn’t survive my former roommates. It was after dinner hours and I didn’t want to deal with take out or greasy fast food, so I decided to grab my car keys and head to the closest grocery store. I reasoned I would need to go anyway, might as well go ahead and get it over with.

  I remembered Dane using a different elevator to the garage level. I turned down the hall and found the elevator at the side of the building. The doors opened and my senses were assailed with sweet memories of strawberries and champagne, taking me back to that night at The Shanty, where I’d met Vixen. Someone who lived here loved that fragrance, but what were the odds? It had to be a popular scent.

  My new customized Camaro was exactly where Alexander said it’d be. It looked like it had been recently detailed. I’d have to make a point to ask him how much I owed him.

  The smell and feel of the leather seats gave me a hard on. I don’t know why, but ever since Vixen, certain smells sent me back to that intense night and all I can think of is finding her and making her mine!

  I blasted the AC to distract me from the overwhelming aromas. I brought up my GPS and tried to locate grocery stores in the area. Luckily, there was one about two miles away that was open for a couple more hours. Great, time to load up, because this weekend was going to be a long one!

  The store was smaller than I expected, but they offered an eclectic variety of organics and lean meats, along with more common place items. I was all for keeping myself physically fit, but I nearly jumped for joy when I found an aisle full of nostalgic candy. I freely admit I have a sweet tooth; my father hooked me on one of his favorites—popping candy. I definitely snagged several packages, since they were hard to find.

  I went through the produce and dairy departments, picking up the essentials of milk, cheese, fruit, vegetables, some luncheon meat, and even some fresh baked bread. I knew the freezer was small, so I grabbed just a few frozen dinners, along with some meats to cook on the grill.

  I started perusing the inner aisles of the store and wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me. I’d thought earlier that the scent from the garage elevator had permeated my clothes, but the smell of strawberries and champagne was strong down one of the aisles. Could it be?

  I looked around and saw several women shopping. I dismissed the idea that I’d find Vixen at a grocery store on a Friday night, when she’d probably be at the club or have better things to do with her time. Most of the women in the store either wore engagement rings or were married. Damn!

  It wasn’t until the cart was nearly full that I decided to head toward the check out. I still had more things to get, but at least the essentials were done, so I could eat. It was a good thing too, my stomach was starting to complain about the lack of food.

  I unloaded my haul at the register and heard the cashier state, “Have a good night, miss.” It was then that I smelled the scent of strawberries the strongest and looked up to see a woman clad in a tight pair of Capri pants and a form fitting t-shirt strolling away. Her hair was a chestnut brown, pulled back in a ponytail with a slight wave to it. Her backside made my other head rise to the occasion—oh how it reminded me of Vixen. But it couldn’t be, could it? Her height, build, and the way her ass swayed when she walked. Stop thinking with your dick!

  “Sir? Mister?”

  I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts of Vixen and that woman. My mind must have been playing tricks on me.

  I looked over to the cashier. “Yes?”

  “You need to swipe your card to pay, sir. You’re holding up the line.” She motioned behind me. I turned and saw four women waiting to check out, two of whom gave me a wink before looking down at my crotch. I so need to get out of here!

  I made it back to the condo, but had to take several trips up and down the elevator to get all that I’d bought. Note to self—buy less next time! I didn’t mind the trips up and down, it was just the smell of the elevator that was sheer torture. Every time I got in, the scent pushed me back to that one perfect night together. Would I ever be able to find my perfect submissive again?

  It took a while to put everything away. I was thankful because it kept my mind busy.

  I ended up heating a frozen dinner so I could glance through the potential suspects’ backgrounds and see if anyone stood out. After doing this for almost four years, certain people stood out right away. I loved the challenge of a crafty individual since it led to more investigative work. Some think the field of accounting can be dull and boring, but in my area it works much like cyber forensics—trying to reconstruct the crime, retracing steps, and seeing everything play out in your mind to follow it back to your culprit. God, I love my job!

  The last thing I remembered was writing out some of my thoughts regarding the suspects and listing some questions I’d like answered about each of them. I realized the jetlag was finally getting to me, but I didn’t expect to fall asleep hunched over the dining table. Nor did I anticipate being woken up with loud music blaring from the condo below me at 7 a.m. What were these walls made of—paper?

  I moved to stretch my arms over my head and see if I could work the kinks out of my neck. I was thankful my roommates had surrendered my Keurig without a fight. They’d coveted that machine more than I did. I needed coffee, lots of it!

  A quick shower, three cups of coffee later, and some ibuprofen for the pounding that was running through my head from the heavy bass music coming from downstairs and I’d had it. I didn’t want to be the neighbor who just moved in and started complaining, but damn that music was driving me nuts. At least with my former roommates, they played it at night and slept in during the day. If I had to deal with this every day I’d go nuts!

  I tried stamping my foot on the floor a few times. Nothing! I tried it again, still . . . nothing! The third time, the music stopped and I heard a woman’s voice yelling, “Could you stop that up there?”

  How dare her! She’s the one listening to horrific music early on a Saturday morning and telling me to keep it down because I want some quiet? I had half a mind to—

  Before I could even get the thought out of my mind, a harsh knock came from the door. “What the hell’s your problem, stomping on the ceiling so hard?” Whoever this bitch was, she’s riled up and ready to take me on. Bring it!

  Oh, it was on. I was a
lready pissed from not seeing a solution to Mr. Prescott’s dilemma last night. I didn’t bother to even open the door. “My problem is with you. I flew cross-country yesterday, I’m suffering from jetlag, had to work late last night, and now I have a pounding headache from the severe bass that’s coming from your horrific music downstairs. All I want is just a couple hours’ sleep. Is that too much to ask on a Saturday?”

  I looked out the peep hole but couldn’t get a full picture of what she looked like. It didn’t help that she had her hair up in a bun and was covered in sweat. My guess is that she was exercising. I watched as she paced back and forth in the hallway. You could tell this was her way of thinking and processing things.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know my music was so loud. I’ve been here almost a year and haven’t had anyone living above me to complain. I’ll try to keep it down if you’ll stop trying to come through my ceiling.” Her voice was genuine and seemed apologetic, but slightly muted thanks to the door.

  I started to open the door to talk with her. “No, don’t open the door. I’m a wreck out here and I’ve already made a bad first impression. Let’s just meet some other time.”

  I let go of the door handle. “I’ve not made that great of an impression, either. Why don’t we agree to have a fresh start another time?”

  She laughed. “Agreed.”

  I had to know. “Do you always wake up so early and play music on Saturday?”

  “No. I’m exercising in order to de-stress from work. As it is, I’m going to have to get dressed later and go in for a few hours and I’m not looking forward to spending my weekend in the office again.” I noticed her hands grabbing tight to one another, one clear sign of frustration.

  “And I don’t usually work so late, but I’m doing a favor for a business associate of mine and offered to put in some extra hours.”

  The alarm on her watch went off and I noticed she started bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other. “Listen, I need to go. I’ve got to be at work soon. I’ll catch you later, and my apologies again about the music. I’ll try to keep it a little lower next time. Bye.”

  I tried to ask her name, but she’d already headed down the stairwell before I could get the door open. She seemed nice. As long as she kept the music down when I was sleeping, we’d get along just fine.

  Now it was time to see if I could get back to sleep and maybe dream about my Vixen and all the wonderful ways I’d take her, if I could just find where she was hiding. I need you, my Vixen. I need to feel your wet heat, now!

  I’D COME INTO THE office to work so I’d have access to all the hard copy files and be able to vent my frustration without disrupting my neighbors. I couldn’t believe it. The account reports I’d approved late last night were already corrupted with incorrect information. How was I ever supposed to get my work done and prove myself when the accounts continually shifted?

  I went back into the file on the server and noted that no one had opened the report since I’d closed it last. So who made the changes and how? That’d been the question plaguing us for weeks now.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t just my department experiencing problems, but my cousin Dane’s, too. His wife, Marissa, handled all the statistics and sales projections within their division and had experienced her reports being tweaked and manipulated to look as though she was skimming commissions off the sales associates.

  Someone was playing with matches within the company. They kept upping the ante with issues and pointing the finger at the wrong people. If they kept messing with fire, they’d eventually get burned. I just prayed the forensic accountant my uncle hired would get here soon and could uncover what was going on. I had the strange feeling this was only the beginning of something bigger, but what?

  I hated bothering Uncle Alexander on the weekends, but I needed some things answered, so I picked up my cell phone and dialed.

  “Everything okay, Gianna?” His voice was immediately filled with concern. He knew I never called unless it was an emergency.

  I couldn’t hold in my frustration any longer. “I don’t know what to do. I came into the office to get some work done and make sure the reports were still intact, but everything’s already a mess. When did you say this forensic accountant friend of yours would be starting? I’d hate to ruin evidence or spend hours correcting everything to only have it messed up by Monday morning again.”

  I had the bad habit of pacing when I was nervous. I waited and paced for Uncle Alexander to respond.

  “He should be in sometime next week. I’ve already sent him a few copies of some of our reports and the changes that were made to them. He said if he had time he’d try to look at them over the weekend.”

  There was a noise out in the hallway, so I looked around the door to see one of the weekend security guards, Charles, making his rounds and nodded his direction. “So what should I do?”

  I could hear my uncle’s footsteps and the closing of a door on the other end. “I know you’re worried and won’t rest until this mess is cleared up, Gianna, but there’s really nothing you can do at this point. Why not take the weekend to relax and enjoy yourself for once? I hear you have a new neighbor living in Dane’s old place. You should probably go introduce yourself.”

  I couldn’t help but let out the frustration deep within me in the form of a growl. It didn’t take long for my uncle to ask. “What gives?”

  “I didn’t know anyone had moved in upstairs. I’m afraid he already hates me for waking him up to my exercise music this morning.” I could feel my skin flush with embarrassment.

  “You didn’t know he was there. I’d almost bet that if you explained, he’d probably forgive you.”

  Hmm. What was my uncle trying to pull? He hadn’t pushed me toward a guy in a long time. Granted, the last time members of my family played matchmaker, the dates all crashed and burned. I don’t know why they were insistent on setting me up with submissive men. I hated men who couldn’t think for themselves and wanted me to take the dominant role. Yeah, they were submissive all right, right down to wanting me to pick up the check as the domme—dumb ass bastards. When I’d had enough, I tried going out with some guys I’d met, but my uncle always insisted on him, my father, or his sons, Rafe and Dane, checking the guys out before I was allowed to go out with them.

  “Why should I apologize?” I stated rather curtly.

  I could hear him clearing his throat, trying to backpedal on his response. “It would be the polite thing to do, Gianna. I hope my brother has instilled some form of kindness in his daughters, please do not disappoint this ole uncle of yours.”

  My anger toward him disappeared instantly. I could only laugh. I just shook my head. He either knew this guy or had something up his sleeve. “Fine. I already apologized and he agreed we could start over with a fresh slate the next time we meet.”

  He seemed to sigh in relief. “That sounds like a good plan. Now go home, relax, and enjoy this marvelous weekend. If you need something to do, then feel free to come over later. Your parents will be joining us for dinner tonight. We plan to cook some steaks on the grill.”

  “But I still need to catch up on all the work I let slide yesterday trying to fix this mess. I don’t want to be overloaded come Monday,” I argued, but when my uncle got an idea in his head, it was like talking to a brick wall—he just didn’t budge.

  “You’ll have a new assistant manager there to help offload some of your work and get you caught up on Monday.” His voice grew stern. “Do I need to pull rank on you, Miss Scott?” He only reserved that tone and called me by my faux name when he was getting ticked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Good, now get out of that office or I’ll call Charles to escort you out.” His voice was still strong, but had a slight softness around the edges. I knew he wanted only the best for all of his family members, but how could I tell him that I only lived for work anymore?

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have a good weekend, Gianna.”


  “You, too. Te amo lo zio.” I loved my uncle, he was a second father to me, always looking out for me and my sister.

  “Ti amo, troppo.” His Italian words flowed easily, returning my sentiments.

  “Ciao.”

  “Ciao, bella.”

  I hated the idea of taking the weekend off. I’d always lived for having my work done and being ahead of the game, which really paid off lately, with all these errors and the need to redo the reports constantly.

  I grabbed my laptop and looked out the window and down to the streets. There were a lot of people milling around the downtown area, taking in some of the restaurants and shops nearby. Everyone was dressed in shorts. It made me long for the days when I could just sit by the pool, listen to music on my iPod, and just lose myself to a beautiful day. You know you’ve wanted to do this for weeks. What are you waiting for? Get out there and have yourself some fun for once! I guess I should listen to my conscience since the warm days were dwindling, as fall would soon be here.

  My mind kept telling me to let loose for once, but my heart told me to keep working so my thoughts wouldn’t shift to him—my cowboy. God, how I missed him.

  THE ROOM THAT PLAYED every night in my dreams came into focus. I could see the spanking bench, the leather sofa, the chest of toys, and other implements used for pleasure spread out across the walls and corners of the room. But the items were insignificant compared to the beauty that kneeled before me.

  “Who is your Dom for tonight?” I asked to gauge her level of submission.

  She didn’t answer me right away. Hmm, I wonder . . .

  I stepped toward her, lifting her face so our eyes met. “I asked you a question and I expect an answer.”

  Vixen swallowed hard. “Permission to speak, sir?”

  I could feel the smile spread across my face even in my dreams. She was even more submissive than I’d thought. God, how I wanted someone like this as my own. Wait . . . where did that thought come from?

 

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