by KB Winters
What? When I’d stumbled into the scene at the gallery, they’d seemed to be so comfortable with each other that I’d assumed that they’d been seeing each other, or at the very least, had known each other longer.
“It was stupid. I should have seen the signs,” Megan said, shaking her head at herself.
I brushed my thumbs on the edge of her knuckles. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Men like Logan know how to play the game.”
“I guess. The whole thing just makes me feel so stupid. First, the thing with Max, now this. I didn’t realize I had such a bad radar for guys.”
Shit. “Megan, look at me.”
She tipped her chin up and I saw the glimmer of tears pooling in her eyes. I transferred both of her hands into one of mine, freeing up a hand to reach over and smooth my fingertips up her jawline and into her hair, letting her head rest against my open palm as I cradled the side of her face. Everything made sense, like putting the last piece into a jigsaw puzzle. Megan had been desperately building a wall between us because she’d taken a couple hits and didn’t know who to trust. The realization was encouraging and discouraging at the same time. Even though I could now see things clearly, I still didn’t know what to do, or say, to fix it and get her to trust me and release the fear that had her gripped so tightly.
“I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I promise to always listen.”
She nodded against my hand, but then something shifted and she pulled away. She flicked her fingers at her eyes, sweeping away the unshed tears before they could fall. She plastered a smile on her face and shook her head as though the somber mood was something written on an Etch-a-Sketch. “I’m sorry. Grant, listen, you’re sweet for saying that, and the thing about taking care of me. I want you to know that I appreciate it, but I’m fine. Really. I am.”
“Megan—”
She made a show of checking the time and then stood. “Hey, I have to get going. It’s getting late.”
Before I could sift through the protests in my head and spit out the one that would make her stay—she was gone. Offering a final small wave from the door before disappearing.
Chapter Three — Megan
As soon as I was outside of Grant’s office, I leaned back against the closed door and took a deep, desperate breath. It was like coming up for air after being underwater too long.
What in the world am I thinking? I’d let him get too close and had said way too much. I pinched my eyes closed wondering what would have happened if I’d stayed another second, another minute, another hour.
Grant Christiansen had a hold on me and whenever we weren’t locked in some kind of verbal spat it was nearly impossible to keep myself from getting drawn into his charming blend of sex, power, and softness. One minute he was ordering me around, running the show, and flexing his muscles—figuratively and literally—the next—he’d be caressing my hands and talking about taking care of me. When I zigged, he zagged, and the constant sensation of being off balance was starting to be too much for this girl to handle.
Seeing Logan that morning already had me on edge and getting that close to Grant had brought all of my fragile emotions raging back up to the surface, making them impossible to ignore. I tried to force down the memories of the encounter, but it was pointless, my mind was unable to let it go until I’d processed each moment.
I’d just got back from the restroom when I rounded the corner and caught a glimpse of Logan waiting outside of my cubicle. He was holding a huge bouquet of flowers and was looking around for me after finding my cubicle unoccupied. For a brief moment, I considered running in the other direction, but then some new force welled up and I marched over to confront him. His initial smile quickly melted away as he registered my pissed off expression.
“What are you doing here?” I hurled at him.
He extended his arm to offer me the bouquet but I ignored the gesture, defiantly crossing my arms instead. “I came to give these to you,” he added, pressing them forward again.
The arrangement was beautiful. Somehow he’d picked out all of my favorite flowers and for a moment I was trying to remember ever telling him what they were. He smiled at me as I lifted my eyes from the flowers and nudged them forward again. “I don’t want them,” I said, my voice hollow and flat.
“Megan, is something wrong?”
I laughed sharply, the sound bounced around the hallway before melting into the soft walls of the neighboring cubicles. Logan cocked his eyebrow at me, his confusion deepening in a crease on his forehead. “Can I take you to lunch?” He asked.
I wanted to tell him no, to tell him that the only place he could go was to hell. Behind me, I could feel other people walking past, and I had the tingling sensation that we were being watched. I swirled around and saw a few people scurrying away. I couldn’t be sure if they were really listening in, or if they were just passing by—but either way—I knew that whatever conversation was about to happen was not fit for the public, or at least, not the people I worked with. Even if it would be for just another couple of weeks…
“Come on,” I hissed, not waiting before stalking down the path I’d just come from. I didn’t wait to see if Logan was following, but after a moment, I could hear footsteps on my heels and knew he was catching up to my frantic pace.
“Megan, what is going on?”
I didn’t answer or even look back. Only once we were outside the etched glass doors that led into the Timeless Timepieces suite and around the corner, did I stop walking and turned to face him again. For a flicker, I questioned whether it was true. Since the words “Logan’s married” had left Grant’s mouth a few days before, I hadn’t questioned it, but in that moment, seeing Logan’s face, I wondered if it wasn’t some ploy to get me to come back to his bed.
“You’re married?”
There, it was out there.
Logan’s face shifted as the statement hung between us. Some part of me silently wishing for a denial, for some plausible story that would explain it all away as a mistake. Maybe Grant had been given bad information—I mentally noted the fact that he’d offered no proof, no pictures, emails, copies of a marriage license—or had misunderstood.
Then, Logan’s eyes bounced to the plush carpet that covered the hallways of the Timeless building, and in that moment everything was confirmed.
It was true. He was married. He had a wife. Someone who had stood by his side and he’d promised her forever, and then, what? Years or even months, later he was on a date with me talking about travel and art. The gentle, sweet kiss…
Thank God I hadn’t slept with him. …
“You’re married,” I repeated, this time without the edge of a question in my tone.
Logan grabbed my hand, rooting me in place before I could run. “Megan, wait!”
I snapped my wrist back, out of his grip, and he reared back as though I’d slapped him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I—I don’t know. Megan, please, just let me explain.” His eyes were wide, frantic as they searched mine.
“Explain?” I huffed out a hollow laugh. “There’s nothing to explain, Logan. I don’t know what made you think I’d be your little piece on the side, maybe you just figured I’d never find out the truth. Either way, I’m not that girl.”
“I was going to tell you, honestly,” he pleaded. “When we met, you were just so interesting and we had so much in common, I wanted to get to know you better and things got…carried away.”
“So, what? This is my fault?”
“No! No, that’s not what I’m saying. Please, don’t be upset.”
My mouth dropped open, unable to form words that would express the vile feeling itching inside of me.
I leaned forward, my teeth bared in some primal gesture that boiled up from a pit of rage that I’d never experienced before. “I never want to see you, or hear from you again. I think you are absolute pond scum and I wish I’d never met you. Go home to your wife. If you have any shred of dec
ency left, you’ll tell her what you did, beg for her forgiveness, and spend the rest of your life making it up to her.”
We both stilled for a moment, my eyes glaring into his shocked look with a mix of horror and revulsion, before I whipped around and stormed back through the Timeless Timepieces doors.
I shook away the memory and pushed off the door to Grant’s office. I scurried down the hall at the sound of footsteps headed my direction and as I rounded the corner, I narrowly missed running into Grant’s assistant, Cara. “I’m so sorry!” I said before darting past her and rushing away. I could feel her watching me as I practically ran away, and had the fleeting worry that she would ask Grant about me, but I kept going, not daring to slow down. If I slowed down, the burning inside my chest might override my brain and make me do something supremely stupid…like go back into Grant’s office and let him do all the things to me that I knew would make me forget Logan ever existed.
It was a tempting thought…but, no, I needed to get away. Out of the building before Grant’s presence could close in on me any further. I knew it would be pointless to try and get Grant out of my head, so the next best thing was to get out of his general proximity.
Luckily, school was the perfect excuse and distraction—and after fleeing the office, I spent the rest of the day lost in finals prep. The end of the year was right around the corner, and although I was studying ever spare minute I had…I somehow felt like each day I was losing more information than I was gaining. My mind was at full capacity and with each new factoid that got stuffed in, something else got shoved out.
After a few hours, I hit my burn out point, and my resting mind involuntarily switched back to obsessing about Grant as soon as I closed the textbook in front of me.
“Ugh,” I groaned into my fists. The school library was vacant and the silence was leaving my head too much space to roam.
I gathered my books and laptop into my green messenger bag, realizing for the first time that it totally didn’t match my outfit, and headed out. I picked up a sandwich and a smoothie on my way back to the hotel room I’d been crashing at all week. When my phone rang, I was sitting cross legged in the middle of the king size bed, stuffing my face, and watching a 90’s sitcom rerun. I set aside the sandwich and checked the caller ID. It was my dad. We hadn’t spoken much since the big blowout when he’d announced he’d been laid off. I hadn’t really spoken to anyone in my family for a few days. My oldest brother, Sam, had texted a few times to check in, and I’d shot back quick, one word responses until he gave up and let me have some space. I hated the distance I was putting between us, but I somehow couldn’t bring myself to do anything to change it. I picked the phone up and stared at the screen for a long moment, a sweep of guilt brushing over me as I debated whether or not to answer. The bright display with the word, DAD, flashing on the screen tugged at my heartstrings and I hurried to answer the call before I could get too choked up. “Hi, Dad.”
“Megan!” I winced at the sound of relief in his voice. “How are you doing?”
I wish I knew.
“I’m good, Dad. Just busy with school and everything. Almost to the finish line, you know.”
“Yeah, that’s excellent. I’m so proud of you,” he answered and my heart twisted, imagining his face as he tried to keep it together.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
There was a slight pause before he continued, “Honey, I know things have been a little crazy around here, but I wanted to call and…uhm, check, you know…see how you’re doing. When do you think you’re coming home?” His voice sounded tired and made my heart ache even more.
I looked around the hotel room, searching for the answer to his question. I’d told him I was staying with a friend, back when I’d planned on crashing with Max. Ugh. I shuddered at the memory of how far and fast that had gone south. “I don’t know, Dad. I have two weeks left of school and I really need to focus and that just wasn’t possible at the house with Robbie and Phillip giving me crap all the time.” I left out my feelings of frustration that revolved around him, and his outright rejection of my offer to help. Robbie’s accusation of my superiority complex still haunted me, and I didn’t want to stir the shit-pot any more.
“I understand that. Naturally, I don’t want your schoolwork to suffer.”
I nodded along, although he couldn’t see me. College was very important to my dad, and a huge part of the reason I’d even enrolled in the first place.
“Well, just know that we all miss you around here,” he continued. I suppressed a scoff at the idea of Robbie and Phillip pining away for their little sis.
“I’ll come home soon, Dad. I just have a few things to settle first.”
“Okay, honey.”
“All right, dad.”
“Well be safe. Make sure you don’t stay out too late, even at the school. You know those crazies wait until it gets dark, so be careful when you’re leaving the library and things.”
I smiled through the tears in my eyes. That last part had a comforting ring to it. “I will, Daddy. Thanks.”
We ended the call and I lay back on the bed, not bothering to un-mute the TV. When had everything become such a mess? For a moment, I thought about packing up and going home, but then decided there was something I needed to do first.
* * * *
I wasn’t scheduled to be at Timeless Timepieces the next day, but I woke up and got dressed for the office anyway. I’d thrown myself into studying late into the night and needed a break. Normally, painting and drawing were my stress outlets—but all of my art supplies were still in my room at home, and I didn’t feel like going to get them. Instead, I drove across town and pulled into the underground lot at work, telling myself that the only reason I was going into work was to make up for the time I’d taken off after my argument with Grant.
It was still fairly early, and people were in meetings or catching up on emails, which left the hallways and corridors quiet and nearly empty as I wove through the different departments, making my way to my cubicle that was sandwiched in the corner of the customer service department. I tried to focus on the work I’d left unfinished the day before, but my mind kept drifting back to Grant and the plan that had been formulating in my mind since the night before. I hadn’t been able to sleep and had spent hours tossing and turning, my mind locked on him and the look in his eyes when I’d stormed into his office the previous day. He hadn’t bothered to hide his pleasure at the outfit I’d chosen to wear just for him. I looked down at the short wrap dress I’d chosen and wondered if it would have the same effect. Since the day we’d met, I’d never questioned whether or not he was attracted to me—he made it very obvious. But today, with what I wanted, it would be essential for him to find me irresistible.
In the wee hours of the morning, it had hit me. If I was ever going to decide what to do with Grant, I needed to fully experience his life. As it was, I didn’t feel like I fit in. Grant came from money, and although he never flaunted his wealth or power—at least, not in my presence—I knew that the women who ran in his circle were way more different than me. Sure, if I wanted, I could buy a new wardrobe, change my hair, my makeup, drive the car he’d given me, and spend my free time shopping and vacationing with other rich people. I could be on his arm at charity dinners. I could schmooze and booze with the rest of the uppity Stepford wives until I dropped dead. …
However, I knew a secret. I knew what Grant really wanted, and it had nothing to do with money.
The only question was…would I fit in that world? His secret world. The side of him no one knew.
There was only one way to find out. And just the thought of it sent shivers of trepidation down my spine.
I flew under the radar for the entire day. I wasn’t even sure Grant knew I was in the office. I was left undisturbed to sort through the work that I’d left behind the day before—along with some new assignments that had popped into my inbox since I’d departed.
Keeping up with customer inquiries was
not exactly in my job description, but it helped me stay with the pulse of the market and then use that information to present to the marketing team. I stopped for a quick lunch, and then continued through the afternoon, wrapping up my workday around four thirty, at which time, I took a quick bathroom break to refresh my perfume and lipstick and then stalked up to Grant’s office, relieved to find that Cara had either stepped away, or had already gone home.
Grant’s door was swung open wide and I took a deep, steeling breath, before striding inside, swaying my hips purposefully with each step towards his desk. When I was three feet away, Grant’s eyes lifted and his brows jolted a few centimeters higher than normal at my approach. A slow smile spread across my face as I came to a stop on the other side of his desk.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” Grant said.
I fingered the edge of his desk, offering a slight shrug in response.
“Did you need something?”
I lifted my eyes back to his, narrow with purpose, and said, “I want you to take me to Fuego.”
Chapter Four — Grant
Two days later, Megan’s demand was still ringing in my ears. Take me to Fuego. She had no idea what she was asking. And I still couldn’t figure out what I’d been thinking when I’d agreed to it. …
What was even more mystifying was how I’d managed to get through the rest of the week without a raging hard on, twenty-four, seven. I’d told her that she would have to wait until Friday to go, and she’d reluctantly agreed. There was a reason I was delaying both of our gratification, I wanted to go when there would be the most activity, so Megan would get the full experience, and as an added bonus, I didn’t want her to worry about being anywhere the next day—in case Megan ended up going home with me afterward—and she would.
