by Lena Skye
He saw her dress as fast as she could, and was disappointed as he had wanted to see more of her perky behind. He did really like holding it last night. Plus her breasts were just the right size, not too enormous for his taste. Everything in moderation, except for when it came to successful business dealings and some sex-related pleasure.
He couldn’t bear to keep having sex with someone he didn’t like in the least. It could be in the way she looked, or how educated she was, but mostly it was in the way that she looked and the way she spoke. Mikaela fit that. While she wasn’t a ravishing brunette, he found her appealing in her own, unpretentious manner. It was something quite refreshing to be with, even just for a night. But he didn’t want to be just for a night. He enjoyed the sex a lot. That was the plan that had begun to form in his mind earlier as he watched her move about.
She didn’t even steal anything and that penthouse was filled with expensive things. Even the sheets went beyond $500, but she didn’t take anything. It surprised him, actually. She had been honest about her job, and while being a barista paid satisfactorily, it wouldn’t support her dreams, whatever those were. He could tell she wanted something in her life but she just couldn’t get a hold of, yet. There was also this air of secrecy in her, even if she had been quite honest with him the first night they met. She was naïve, which was one thing about her. And he found her smart, yet stupid, which was perfect for the idea brewing in his mind.
Speaking of brewing, he wanted coffee, and he thought about Uncommon Grounds, but it would be in distaste if he went there to look for her, although he did want to tease her, and see the look on her face. Perhaps he was childish, after all. He did like to tease certain women, just to see how they would react to his whims and caprices.
There was still the child in him, and his mother did say he shouldn’t let this part go. Being a serious adult was part of his life though, because it was called for by his position. He was no Silicon Valley billionaire, and his offices weren’t that much fun either. Even his own office wasn’t filled with quirks any rich man could fill easily. His father had been a man who loved to laugh, while he wasn’t. He did miss his father who had been his solid rock and source of support, but he would never admit this to anyone. No one would want a CEO with weepy backstories. Everyone liked the enigma of Justin Henderson, and magazines and blogs, newspapers and mouths loved to make stories or heighten the stories surrounding him.
He wanted to toy with that fact, which was why he had come up with that idea in the first place. Everyone expected Justin Henderson to date this type of woman, a woman that fit into his mold. Someone that was educated, well-traveled, or someone whose face could grace magazines every month and no one would get tired of it. He didn’t want that, actually. But he wouldn’t pass on a pretty face, maybe date her a couple of times and have sex with her, if she wanted to, which was always the case. They all wanted him.
And suddenly, he wanted her, he wanted her to be his. He hadn’t known there was this part of him that existed, someone that went selfish, purely for physical reasons. He couldn’t date her out in the open yet. She wasn’t “Justin Henderson Material.” But it would make for an interesting tabloid story, wouldn’t it?
He chided himself for this thought. People weren’t dispensable, they weren’t objects, but he couldn’t help but want her all to himself. Purely for sex. She wasn’t a hooker now, was she? Perhaps he would have her investigated, maybe she was moonlighting as one and he didn’t know about it. She was a competent barista, and more than competent in bed. Didn’t that mean something?
No one was that good in bed, he thought, as he felt himself grow hard again. The footage showed she had left fifteen minutes after she went around his house. He was glad he didn’t bring her to his main apartment. If she had thought he only brought girls here, he was right. It was meant for that. His exes lived in their own apartments, and if he was momentarily single, it was the perfect place to bring women to. That way, they wouldn’t feel too trashy and he wouldn’t feel too concerned about how they felt. Justin did wonder how she felt, but the empathy was only in passing.
He switched off the monitor feed and stood up, still comfortable in his pajamas, in the confines of his home. It was a luxurious house, with a one hundred eighty-degree view of the Californian coastline. The room had six bedrooms, but it stayed mostly empty at least five months a year. His quiet, large house also had a professionally-equipped gym and a theater with movie-style seating, which could fit up to twelve people.
The family room had a view of the twenty-five meter infinity edge pool that seemed to cascade into the ocean. While he wasn’t too fond of pool parties, he still had those once in a blue moon for society’s sake, or if his adolescent sisters wanted to jettison their friends to California for a private retreat.
He didn’t bring his exes here that much, he was a bit selfish about the place and wanted it all to himself. So what he did was check in to every five-star hotel possible, or bring those exes to the penthouse if they wanted some peace and quiet, away from public eyes.
After taking a shower, he walked into his closet, which was quite large for a single man’s standards. His hands skimmed over the many suits in the closet and he picked one in a navy blue. He took out brown wingtip oxfords to match his suit, and he also picked a light blue silk tie. He didn’t bring a briefcase at all, just a thin laptop sleeve for his MacBook Pro.
His chauffeur was waiting for him at the entrance and three uniformed maids greeted him a good morning. These maids didn’t stay in the same house. They only worked from nine until five in the afternoon and clocked out via biometrics. His home’s security was top-notch, but subtle, and he had spent an additional few hundred thousand for it.
He spent odd hours in the office, depending on his mood and the workload for the day. He had a cardinal rule to never bring work home, unless he had guests who needed to be given a tour of the place, coupled with a few drinks. He liked to drink, albeit only casually, and his home had a wine cellar that housed around two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of rare or vintage wines and spirits. It would take another fifty years before he would run out of liquor, or maybe for a special event like his sisters getting married, give or take ten years.
They were happily dating between the ages of nineteen and twenty-one, while he just coasted along, dating for the sake of it. He was a man, he had needs, but he didn’t need to be tied down. They would always come flocking to him, even if he was past sixty, they’d still come for him, if not for his looks, then for his money. He didn’t want money to talk though, but if there was one thing he learned about the harshness of the world, money spoke in volumes. Even his father, rest in peace, knew that, no matter how jolly the senior Henderson had been.
The drive only took thirty minutes, and he liked the scenic route his chauffeur took every day. There was something about watching the sun along the waters, and the surfers on their boards paddling out into the crest, and the birds flying about in the air. There wasn’t much of this in England, where the water remained unmanageably cold and the air had barely any tropical feel to it.
Justin looked at his phone again, wondering if he could give her a text. What for, right? he told himself. He had never doubted himself before, all his decisions when it came to women were easy to make, done in a snap. But today, the thought of Mikaela unhinged him. He didn’t like this feeling of actually wanting her. It was distracting for his trail of thought, and distracting for work. It further strengthened his earlier idea of having her all to himself so he could appease the distraction.
She was probably angry after this morning’s abandonment, but he would make up for it. It seemed like she was a nice girl, apart from being honest. He would overwhelm her with kindness tomorrow, it could be a possible weakness. Maybe he could do it in public as well, so she wouldn’t have the courage to turn him down. It was like that for some women and he hoped his calculations would turn out to be correct that she would be weak with his advances.
&nb
sp; Nice girls like that always bent under the right amount of pressure and a few gifts. He shook his head and realized he was in front of his office building. Two days from now, yes two days, he would see her.
***
“Mikaela?”
She had just begun her shift at seven in the morning and had gone to the backroom to check on a few deliveries when her co-worker Mary Anne called out for her from the backroom.
“Yeah?”
“You have a customer here to see you.”
The moment Mary Anne said that, Mikaela had a gut feeling that it was going to be Justin Henderson at the counter. She didn’t want to go out, but she knew she had to. If he was buying coffee, he was a customer. If he was here to apologize, she wouldn’t hear of it. She didn’t want to see him at all, every hair in her body was against it.
She went to the counter after fighting against the urge to tell Mary Anne she couldn’t come out to face that customer, and Mary Ann better face this customer instead. She took a deep breath and there he was in front of her. Justin Henderson. The asshole extraordinaire.
“Welcome to Uncommon Grounds,” she began, trying to sound as pleasant as possible. “What can I get for you today?”
“Hello Mikaela.”
His voice was like honey and she wanted to kick herself for even considering that she liked hearing his voice so much. She hadn’t forgotten it but she wanted to hear it again…
“Hello, sir.”
“What’s with the formality?” he asked her.
“You’re a customer, sir,” she said. “What can I get you?”
“What did I have the last time?”
“I don’t remember at all,” Mikaela replied. “I’ll have the caramel macchiato with low fat milk. Easy on the caramel drizzle.”
Oh she remembered that. She remembered he had said that he liked making things difficult, probably some ego trip for this rich asshole. Well, let’s make things difficult for him, she thought.
“I’m sure you remember.”
“I honestly don’t. If you please, someone else is ready for their order,” she told him, looking at the woman behind Justin.
Justin turned to face the middle-aged woman, red-haired and wearing a suit. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ll pay for your drink. What’ll you have?” he asked with a hint of a smile.
The woman looked surprised, and then flattered. “Oh, what? No, you don’t have to—”
“I insist,” Justin told her, his dark brown eyes looking over at the woman with concern.
The bastard, Mikaela thought. She hadn’t known he could be this charming. The woman told him what she wanted for a drink, and he had the audacity to ask if she wanted to eat something to pair with Uncommon Grounds’ heavenly coffee. She ended up ordering a bagel with some cream cheese.
The woman profusely thanked him over and over, excitedly walking out of the café, hell bent on telling her officemates some plainly extraordinary thing that happened at seven in the morning. She could tell her coworkers that a handsome young man had given her free breakfast and a disarming smile.
“What the hell did you do that for?” she hissed.
“I was being a good customer. I made her wait so you could remember my order.”
“I don’t remember your order.”
“With a brain like that, I’m sure you can.”
“What is your problem?” she asked him, feeling her face redden.
“I don’t have a problem. I just need to ask you something.”
“Can’t this wait? I have customers coming up in a few.” She dropped her voice, seeing a co-worker move near her to grab some tissue.
“I’m a customer, of course you’ll have to wait for me.”
“You didn’t order.”
“Is there a problem, sir?” Mikaela’s shift manager, the daughter of the owner, approached the counter and stood beside her.
“No, I just don’t think Miss Mikaela here remembers my favorite drink.”
The manager’s eyes widened, thinking he was a returning customer. Then she looked at Mikaela, expecting her favorite barista to remember this tiny detail.
Mikaela took a breath. “That was one caramel macchiato with low fat milk. Easy on the caramel drizzle.”
He smiled. She even remembered his exact words. “Oh, that one. That’s a mouthful, but I really like that drink.”
The manager smiled and excused herself, thinking all was well.
“Will that be all, sir?” she said, trying to maintain a straight face instead of scowling. She wanted to grit her teeth in front of him, wanted to tell him what a dick he was.
“No, I have to ask you something else.” She didn’t think he would be this childish.
Another customer walked in the café and waited behind Justin. This wasn’t good at all. “I’ll call your name for your order. Thanks.”
“But you didn’t hear me out yet,” he said. He wasn’t going to allow it to end like this. He would not be dismissed.
The woman behind Justin was getting impatient. “Young man, could you hurry up? Some of us have to be at work before eight.”
Justin looked behind him and smiled at the woman. “Just one second, if you please.” He turned to face Mikaela once more. “Now, will you go on a date with me later?”
“What?” Her face turned pink and her ears grew warm.
The customer behind Justin smiled hearing this. At least there was still some romance in the world, and the young man seemed tenacious to date the barista with the lovely smile. She wanted to see how this went, so she said nothing, deciding to wait for the drama to unfold.
“Will you go on a date with me later?” he asked her again.
“I’m at work,” she gasped. “You shouldn’t ask me this.”
He took out something from his pocket. A silver charm bracelet lay inside a thin box.
The woman behind Justin approved, nodding at Mikaela, signaling for her to say yes with a smile. Mikaela looked away and called for Mary Anne, asking her to take over for just a few minutes.
Mikaela took off her apron and stepped outside of the counter and took Justin’s smooth hand roughly, dragging him out of the store with all her might. They were at the al fresco area of the café where no one was around, much to Justin’s chagrin.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to do here—”
“I’m trying to get you to say yes to a date this afternoon or tonight.”
“And do what?” she snapped. “You’ll leave me alone again. Do you know what kind of asshole you are?”
He frowned. They had barely known each other, and here she was calling him rude names. “Which part spoke of asshole?”
“You left me a thousand dollars—”
“I thought you needed it,” he calmly said. “It looked like you needed it from the way you made your barista life sound.”
“I don’t need your money. I’m not a slut,” she said in a bigger voice.
A passerby looked at her condescendingly and she lowered her voice, feeling her face heat up again. “As I said, I don’t need your money. I’m no charity case.”
“I just thought you needed extra help,” he reasoned. “Did you even take it? I have a feeling you didn’t.”
“No,” she sputtered. “Of course I didn’t take it. You think I’m starved or somethin’?”
“Why are you so angry? If you didn’t take it, you needn’t be angry.”
“You made me seem like I was a hooker.”
He wanted to tease her, ask her if she really was, when he already had some information about her. Mikaela Johnson really needed the money. She was an orphan, she had lived alone since she was fifteen, spending time in half-way houses and at one point, an orphanage.
“If you aren’t then you needn’t be defensive.”
She scowled at him. “I don’t need your money.”
“I think you do. And I think you need some time off from working. How many shifts do you do?” he asked her.
; She didn’t look at him. “I only have one shift.”
“But you extend hours to support yourself better?” he prodded.
“I do it because I’m bored,” she snapped.
“Really now?” He was looking at her, all-knowingly. What else did he get to read last night about her? The private detective had been quick. He didn’t need to know about her whole life, but a summary did fine. The detective did just that.
For the lonely life she led, she sure made it seem like she came from a good family background. She was upbeat, even if she had lost her parents at a young age. She had been self-supporting since, according to the files, managing to graduate with honors. How was that even possible? he wondered.
Her parents had been professionals, her father was a bank manager, her mother a guidance counselor. She also had a younger brother who had been eight by the time of the accident. The private investigator had been thorough, even managing to come up with an old news clipping announcing the internment of Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, along with that of their son, Aaron, at a local funeral parlor in Washington. At least they had something in common, that he and Mikaela were quite new to Malibu.
“Will you take the bracelet?” he asked her mildly, holding up the charm.
“And what? End up paying for it?” It had her name on it. The bastard put her name on it.
“You could use the thousand dollars I left you—oh wait, you didn’t get it,” he grinned.
Her eyes narrowed. “You really are an asshole,” she told him.
“Fine,” he said. “I’m leaving this here, and anyone who fancies it can take it. I understand this isn’t enough to warrant a date from you.”
She looked confused, as if she was forced to make a terrible decision. She wildly looked around, trying to find a way out. What the hell was he up to?
The elderly female customer passed by, eyeing them both. Apparently, the young barista was playing hard to get. “Say yes, dearie,” she called out before walking away.
