Miss Chief

by Author Quinn

  He thanked me for not putting any pastel decors. God forbid a little blush pillowcase on the sofa would turn him into a giggling girl. Henrik doesn’t seem to mind a few feminine splashes at my place.

  At half-past eight, ARC’s staff has begun to trickle in. A hired server greets each one of them with champagne, and they all line up to meet the new, hot, younger CEO. By nine thirty, I begin to worry. There’s no sign of Henrik. It’s not like him to be late, or get lost since it’s the same address as my apartment, only a few floors higher. I check my phone for any messages. Nothing. I don’t message him. It’s not like I’m his girlfriend or whatever we’re doing requires any kind of label.

  I catch a glimpse of Theo from across the expansive living room. He cocks his head to one side and I shake mine, letting him know I’m unaffected by Henrik’s tardiness. Not a great first impression with the boss, though. But whenever the elevator dings, announcing another arrival, my spine straightens and I can’t help but crane my neck to see who’s arrived.

  “No sign of him?” Theo appears beside me, his voice lowered. He tsks.

  “Hush up. He’s never been late for anything. Doesn’t matter to me anyway.” I pout. “What are you drinking?”

  “Macallan 18.”

  “Good.” I steal it from him and knock back the rest of the drink. The liquid burns smoothly down my throat. I give him the glass back.

  “Doesn’t matter, huh?” I push a flat hand on his bicep, but he’s an immovable beast of a man. At that same moment, I feel a prickle on the back of my neck and I only understand why when I see Henrik’s dark stare trained at me from where he’s standing beside the elevator. He must’ve just arrived. But what’s with the feral anger?

  Ignoring it, I smile at him. He lowers his head before walking through the crowd, greeting the staff until he reaches my side. To my surprise, he slides a hand until he reaches the small of my back, and he gives my cheek a chaste kiss. “Sorry I’m late. Phone call came in when I was about to leave and it couldn’t wait till the next day.”

  I can’t help but be proud of him as I send Theo a sideways glance. See? He’s a hard worker. He’s late because of work.

  Although he doesn’t imply that it was about work. I watch him brush his hair back and I zero in on the worry in his eyes. “Meet Theo Solomon, our new CEO. Theo, this is Henrik Lam, one of our architects.”

  The men shake hands, but I’m jarred by the unspoken competition that seems to be happening before me. They talk shop and golf, but no matter what, Henrik can’t seem to shake off the edge he came in with. Eventually, Theo excuses himself.

  “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  “Fine.” Henrik’s voice is clipped. It’s unlike him.

  “Would you like a drink? Theo’s bar is stocked.”

  “You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

  Excuse me? I angle my body a little, and change my stance. Is that fire coming out of his mouth? Over what? I narrow my eyes, filling them with suspicion. I glance around as I tell him, “Say hi to a few people, then meet me down the hallway, third door to your left.”

  “Ingrid…I’m not up for games.”

  “Who says I’m playing?” I shoot off a warning, and then turn on my heels. I smile as I pass ARC’s staff. I stop by Theo’s side and whisper to him what I’m about to do. He gives me a curt nod and I continue on.

  My butt is perched on the edge of Theo’s home office desk when Henrik enters. One of my stilettoes dangles precariously on my toes. There’s a lamp on in one corner of the room, enough for me to see the possessiveness in Henrik’s golden brown eyes. Without my prompt, he locks the door before advancing toward me. I lean my hands behind me, and the hem of my dress rides up higher on my thighs. I uncross my legs and widen them when he approaches, welcoming him into my heat, letting my shoes fall on the floor.

  His hands take possession of my face, my neck, my cheeks, and his mouth devours me. Then his right hand falls down my back, tapping along my spine like each dip and groove is an ivory piano key. Meanwhile his other hand skirts over the neckline of my dress. In one swoop of his finger, my dress unfurls and puddles around my hips. My breasts are presented well to him now. But he doesn’t lower his head to taste my tightening nipples. He just stares right into my eyes, tilting his head slightly to get a good look at me.

  “You don’t have to be jealous of Theo,” I profess, and his deep sigh is a sure sign my suspicions are correct. “Henrik,” I begin again. “He’s like my big brother. We grew up together.”

  “But he’s not your biological brother.”

  “No, but he might as well be.”

  Henrik stares down at our connection, hips to hips, hard erection pressing against his pants zipper to wet, hot pussy covered by a flimsy piece of satin. I sit up, reaching for his belt. “I’d never do this to him if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve never even thought of him that way.”

  “Then why the secrecy?”

  “Of all people, I thought you’d understand how important it is to keep some things from other people, especially those we work with.” After ridding him of his belt, I palm his crotch, earning me a groan, and play with his zip before pulling it down.

  “Theo values his privacy. As do I. As you do. Besides, do you think I’d be doing this to you if he’s anything but an almost relative to me?” I slide my hand inside his trousers, finding him hot and hard. I open my legs more and let him play with my clit while I work his length. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know,” I repeat the exact words he’s told me only days ago.

  He smiles against my lips, but not before long, I’m not just smiling. I’m panting and moaning. And coming.

  The transition from Tomlinson to Theo is smoother than I expected. Despite not having owned an architectural firm, Theo settles in his new office and his surroundings quite easily. To say I’m relieved is an understatement. My other plan though doesn’t seem to be reaching any kind of goals.

  What I realize is that when I’m happy, and…*gulp* in a relationship, I want everyone else I care about to be happy and satisfied too, in more ways than one.

  Theo likes ARC, but he still has to split his time between all his companies. How is he supposed to have a serious relationship, or any kind of relationship at all, if he’s never around? How am I gonna help him out with that when he’s gone all the time?

  I was giddy the first time he met Talia, but other than a few stolen glances he sends her way when she passes, or from across the room when he thinks she—or anyone else isn’t looking—he hasn’t done shit all. It’s his don’t mix business with pleasure bullshit that’s holding him back.

  Meanwhile, Henrik and I are taking things to a new level. Sleepovers. I hate sounding like a teen. The only time we’ve slept in the same bed until the next day was the first night at the hotel. Which I don’t even know if it should count. I snuck out before he even woke up. Tomorrow, I intend for him to stay over, and maybe not leave since it’s the beginning of the weekend after all.

  He arrives promptly at my door with an overnight bag, take out dinner and a bouquet of peonies. I struggle to keep the wide smile off my face. Like real grown-ups, we eat at my rarely used dining table. The only time we’ve been on this table was to have sex on it. It’s a sturdy harvest table that I’ve refinished with a whitewash.

  I don’t know what it is—maybe that we are on our own, knowing we’ll be together for two days straight and not be interrupted by work projects, or we can be our true selves around each other without fear of being found out—it’s freeing. A lovely warm sensation that continues to course through me while we’re eating, talking about his Kilimanjaro trip, about how well his sister has adjusted to the city, the family home he grew up in, and his mother back in Austin. He’s more open tonight than he’s ever been in our times together. And it’s addictive. He’s addictive. I’m addicted to listening to him recall everything by memory, in rich details, as though I’ve been there myself.

  Aft
er dinner, we snuggle on the opposite ends of the sofa with books, a romantic suspense for me, and an autobiography for him.

  “You’re too far,” he says at some point, tugging playfully at one of my big toes. He hangs one of his legs over the sofa, and invites me into his warmth. I don’t argue, and smile ruefully when he starts to massage the muscles on my neck and shoulders with his free hand.

  I imagine us like this every night. Finally, I know the meaning of relaxing. More importantly, I think I may be in what can only be described as a serious relationship. Or if we’re not there yet, we’re definitely well on our way.

  His hand travels down my arm and up again. It’s soothing, and weirdly enough, it’s turning me on. Is it just his touch or is it him?

  I close my book and raise my chin, twisting a little to press a kiss on his lips. It’s a simple kiss, but the effect is palpable. His pupils dilate and his breath turns ragged.

  “It’s time for bed,” he says, helping me up the sofa, and leading me to the bedroom.

  For the first time in my life, that night, I experience what it’s like to make love. More so, I feel loved. I am loved.

  We spend the whole Saturday together, mostly in bed, always naked. On Sunday, we have brunch with his sister. We get along swimmingly. She doesn’t seem as young and naïve as Henrik has told me. At the end of the meal, we walk her to her car and she hand Henrik a garment bag.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a suit,” he replies. “I hope you don’t mind but I’d like to spend another night with you. This is to make sure I don’t look like I’ve been fucking all weekend when I get to work.”

  I bump a fist on his upper arm, but I’m too thrilled to say anything at first. He helps me into his car.

  “You can stay longer than one more night, if you want,” I say when he turns the engine on.

  Henrik pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses my palm. “Good. There are two suits in that bag.”

  Two nights later, I wake to the thrumming of a phone on the side table, but when I glance up to my side, everything’s the same. “Henrik.” I give his naked torso a little shake. “Baby, I think you’re phone’s ringing.”

  He rubs a hand over his eyes. “What?” His voice is gravelly, heavy with sleep.

  “Your phone.”

  He mumbles something incoherent but he leans an elbow on the mattress and reaches for his phone. “Shit…Paris? What’s wrong?”

  I can’t know for sure but I may have heard his sister in hysterics on the other line.

  “Calm down…Take a breath, I can barely understand you. What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  I’m awake now, and so is he. He sits up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. I turn on the lamp and watch the tension ripple over his expansive upper back.

  “I’ll be there. No, I’ll call. Chill. I’ll be there. I know. I know.” He hangs up soon after, then immediately stands. “I have to go,” he announces in the dim room.

  “Everything alright?”

  He’s pacing the floor, pulling at the clothes he had in his overnight bag, and tugging at the ends of his hair. “My mom was rushed to the emergency.”

  “In Austin?” Yeah, it’s a stupid question. Where else would she be?

  “Yeah. I have to go there.” I’m sitting up now, clutching the sheets over my naked breasts. For some reason, it feels weird to be flashing him when he’s worried about his mother.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  He pulls on his jeans and slumps on one of my white Barcelona chairs, a pair of socks in his hands. He lets his head hang a bit before looking up and saying, “Come with me.”

  What? “You want me to..?”

  “I’d love for you to.”

  I try to swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. Going to Austin means…flying. I haven’t stepped on a plane ever since that night. Every now and then, I still get nightmares from it. I’m still barely holding my shit together when I ride the elevator at work, and that’s something I do every day. How can I tell him this? Would he understand? Or would he think I’m being silly?

  “Henrik…I don’t know…”

  “Why not? I need you, Ingrid.” Even with one light on in the expanse of my room, I see the haggardness on his face.

  “I…I just can’t.”

  He stands abruptly and slaps his socks on his palm. “Why? Is it the work bullshit? You still don’t want people to know? Ingrid, don’t be stupid.”

  The problem with me is when someone tells me not to be stupid, I become stupid. “What about it is stupid?” If he knows the real reason, he’d think I’m more stupid, and unreasonable. I know he won’t understand. He’s already traveled for work a few times. “I prefer not to be water fountain news fodder!”

  He clears the space between us with two long steps. “You know what…”

  I raise my chin, challenging him without saying a word.

  “Forget it. Forget I asked.” He doesn’t bother putting his socks on. He dumps everything back in his bag and slips out of the bedroom.

  “Tell me I didn’t make a big mistake, Theo.” I wrap my hands around the warm cup.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  “Theo!” I slap my hand on his desk.

  “What do you want me to say, Ingrid? I don’t know how you feel about this guy. And if you do feel something more, I want to say yeah, it’s a big mistake. He asked you to be there. In his time of need. And you denied him because of some ridiculous fear of flying.” He rocks back in his chair when he’s done chastising me.

  “It’s not ridiculous. It’s a legitimate fear.”

  “Then I can’t help you.”

  “You’re an asshole.” I want to throw my coffee at him.

  “Thanks. Now, if you don’t mind. I’d like to make this announcement. You’ve worked your butt hard enough this week. It’s time for some good news.”

  It’s been days since Henrik flew back to Austin, without me. I’ve kept my composure the entire time, even managing to finish a design earlier than needed. But I haven’t heard from him, and it physically hurts. Having that tight deadline has helped ignore the yawning chasm in my chest. I miss Henrik. I miss his voice, his kisses, his secret intense gazes meant only for me.

  While Theo makes the news official about our winning bid for an exciting new project, I stay silent by his side, not bothering to pay attention to anyone else in the conference room. He gives me a little nudge and I let a small smile appear on my face.

  When we head back to his office with Henrik’s assistant, Bryde, and my two girls, Talia and Sheila, my chest tightens even more. I’m numb. Every noise is a mumble. And as much as I’ve been successful suppressing it, I can’t fight it anymore. I shatter. I let out a sob and run out of Theo’s office with tears streaming down my face.

  All I can think of is how I’ve let down the man I love.

  Is my fear of flying irrational? Maybe. But an even greater fear presents itself to me. The fear of losing Henrik.

  Chapter Seven

  It’s no big deal. It’s just the engine doing its thing. That whirring is normal. Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine.

  My hands are clammy. I swipe a thin film of sweat off my forehead and wipe it on my pants. I press my palms on my thighs, hoping to stop my legs from shaking. I turn to the passenger beside me and smile tightly at him. I’ve downed a couple of pills to calm my nerves. They should take effect before the plane is off the ground. But what the hell is taking that attendant so long to get me my drink?

  “Nervous flyer?” my astutely observant neighbor asks.

  No, shit, Sherlock. “A little.” Huh. Right. I’m about to jump out of my skin with every sound I hear. But I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for him. For Henrik. For fuck’s sake, where is that damned drink? I push off my seat a little, craning to see where the attendant has gone, and feel the bite of the tight seatbelt around my waist. Maybe I’d tugged on it a lit
tle too much. Better safe than sorry.

  Finally, I see the flight attendant with my drink. I settle back down in my seat and furiously rearrange my clothes. I don’t know why, they’re perfectly fine, but it keeps my hands busy until she gets here. Her smile is genuine and if I’m not mistaken, laced with a bit of sympathy for me. I’d already asked her several questions as soon as I sat, and even though they don’t serve drinks until we’re in the air, she took pity on me, telling me the flight to Austin will be over before I know it.

  Well, she better be right. Once my brain realizes what the hell is going on, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself. I finish my wine in record time, and practically chuck the glass at the kind attendant as she passes by.

  My grip on the seat is unrelenting. I might suffer from muscle strain during this flight. I put my noise-canceling headphones on and listen to Eminem. Yeah, an odd choice for my current situation but it helps. I must be a sight to other passengers—head bopping, back glued to the seat, mouthing off Eminem’s lyrics, eye mask on. I don’t care. I need to get to my man who needs me.

  Lurching forward, the bile burns up my throat and leaves a lovely taste in my mouth as I throw up into a bag for the umpteenth time. I’ve smudged my makeup and my lipstick. My hair is a pile of sticky, sweaty mess. But as soon as Henrik sees me, he looks at me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. I wipe the side of my mouth with a bundled-up tissue, which to be honest, I don’t remember where I got.

  “Hi,” I say weakly as Henrik kneels by my side, and wraps his arms around me.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” He kisses the top of my head. God, it can’t possibly smell good up there.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call here.”

  Taking the seat beside me, he keeps an arm around me, tucking me in the warmth of his body. I press my cheek on his chest. God, he smells good.