by K. M. Scott
I had to laugh at Jordan's rundown of life back in Brooklyn. She was happy, and things were just as she'd always said they'd be. Good people were having good things happen for them, and this time, we were those people too.
I tapped out a quick email to tell her I'd be dropping by the apartment the next day, and then I was a woman on a mission with her nose to the art world grindstone. The suite in Miami had recently been redecorated to reflect the varied cultures and artistic styles found in that city. The pictures of the suite were breathtaking and intimidating. Tristan's decorators had spared no cost in creating a wonderful suite of rooms showcasing the fusion of Latin American flavors and Caribbean influences so key to Miami. The vibrant blues, yellows, and reds made the suite look like the perfect getaway spot, and I wished we'd visit there just to experience it.
That I now had to find that one perfect piece of art to bring the rooms together felt like a Herculean challenge. Of all the assignments he'd given me, this one threatened to show that I wasn't as good at this as I wanted to be.
I rubbed my temples and rolled my shoulders. You can do this, Nina. You can do this.
My pep talk worked a small wonder on my psyche, and I set myself to the task of finding that one piece I had to believe existed. Thankfully, the designer hadn't gone with the obvious choice of art deco for the Miami suite. I could appreciate that. Her choices had made the Richmont unique in a sea of luxury hotels in South Beach.
Rubbing my hands together, ideas began popping in my mind and I had a brainstorm. My fingers set off clicking away on the keyboard, but two hours later, I still hadn't found what I was searching for. What had seemed like such a great idea didn't seem to actually exist. The thought occurred to me that I could create something on my own, but my skill as a painter wasn't great enough to have one of my pieces hang in the Presidential suite.
By late afternoon, I hadn't found anything and Tristan was set to be home any time. I had to find something to show him. Even if he vetoed my idea, it was better than letting him down completely. Another quick inspirational talk with myself and I was determined to find something to show for my day's work.
After another exhaustive search, a purple and gold circle print by a Miami artist that would work perfectly was what I finally came up with. To be honest, I was pretty sure Tristan would give it a thumbs down, but at least it was something.
Satisfied, I bookmarked the page at the gallery and closed my laptop just in time to see him enter the bedroom. Whatever he'd been dealing with had taken a toll on him as I'd never seen his face look so drawn and tired.
"Hey! Somebody stole all my things and then left them in here, oddly enough," I joked as he sat down in the high backed chair near the window.
Tristan loosened his tie and smiled. "That's what I love most about you, you know that? When nothing or no one can make me smile, you can." He leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes as he let out heavy sigh.
"Tough day?"
"Too tough."
Walking over to behind him, I leaned forward and slid my hands over his shoulders. They were tight and knotted and almost up near his ears. Slowly, I began kneading his stressed muscles, whispering in his ear, "I thought men like you didn't have to deal with the everyday hassles we ordinary people do."
He groaned low and deep. "No, we have to deal with bigger hassles."
"Want to talk about it?"
Tristan shook his head. "Nope. Tell me about your day." He arched back to look at me. "You liked my surprise?"
I leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Very much. And your note. Would you like to see what I came up with for Miami."
"Later." He held my hands on his shoulders. "Tell me what you did other than work and don't stop the massage. That feels good."
"Jordan emailed me. I'm going to stop over to see her tomorrow. She says someone sent me an official looking envelope."
I felt his shoulders tighten under my hands, even as he sat with his eyes closed. "Are you expecting something official?"
Chuckling, I pressed into his muscles, kneading even more deeply. "No. I can't imagine who would send me anything official. The last time I got anything from the government or a lawyer was years ago after my father's death."
"Maybe the IRS has a bone to pick with you," he joked.
"Don't say that. I've heard horror stories about being audited."
He laughed at me. "Nina, I don't think the IRS is auditing you, but if they are, just let me know and I'll have someone take care of it. It's not something to worry about."
This was that attention to detail thing I loved. An IRS audit would make me shake in my shoes and stress out for weeks, but he just took it all in stride and made me feel like if it happened, he'd handle it. I could get used to that.
I pressed my lips to his ear and kissed him, nuzzling his neck. "I love how you do that."
"Do what?"
"Just take care of things. I do love a man who takes care of business."
He tilted his head to look up at me. "What kind of men have you been dating?"
I returned to massaging his tired muscles and sheepishly admitted the truth. "The wrong kind, obviously."
He groaned softly as I hit a tender spot where his shoulders met his neck. "I'm glad I took care of that then."
"I'm going to see her after school tomorrow. I should be home by the time you get home for dinner."
He sat quietly as I attempted to ease the stress from his body. I loved these moments when it was so clear I made him as happy as he made me. After a few minutes, he spoke up, as if he'd been thinking about my last words. "We can meet at the penthouse so you wouldn't have to take that ride in and out of the city."
I kissed him on the cheek. "No, I'd rather come back here, if it's all the same."
Tristan turned his head to look at me, his eyebrows raised. "You mean you'd rather come back to this out of the way house in the middle of nowhere?"
Leveling my gaze at him, I stopped my hands' work and grinned. Rogers had obviously mentioned my comment from that night we'd chatted outside. "Yes. If you must know, I've grown to appreciate this house, even though it's a bit secluded. I like to think of it as our home."
He took my hands from his shoulders and brought them to his lips for a kiss. "I can't tell you how happy that makes me, Nina."
The unspoken reality that my six-month contract was almost up hung in the air like a heaviness that pressed down on us. I hadn't mentioned it because I feared what he might say. Even now, after all we'd shared together, he was still a mystery to me in many ways. I'd expected him to say something about it ending soon, but as each day passed, he was silent on the matter, as if he'd forgotten.
I'd just as soon have had him forget, to be honest. What if he was able to let me go as easily as firing any other employee? In my heart, I knew he loved me and no longer thought of me as merely someone who worked for him, but in the past few weeks I'd sensed something between us holding him back from me. I wanted to believe it was whatever he was dealing with at work, but a tiny fear sat in the back of my mind whispering that no matter what we'd been to one another, when the six months was up, so was our time together.
Pushing that out of my head, I said, "So it's settled. I'll visit Jordan and then be back so we can have dinner. Maybe tomorrow night can be pizza night?"
"Tony's?" he asked with a smile in his voice.
I stroked the hair near his nape, loving its softness. Bowing my head, I ran my lips over it and whispered, "I like that."
"Okay. Tony's at six. It's a date."
"A date," I said as I kissed along his neck to just below his left ear. "I'll be there."
Chapter Eighteen
The next day went by quickly as I proudly showed off my choices for the Miami hotel, which Tristan vetoed as I suspected he would, saying he liked the artist but not that particular circle piece. So I continued my search. It was more difficult than I'd anticipated, but when I contacted the artist's representative and told he
r I was looking to purchase one of Delgado's purple and gold series for the Richmont hotel in Miami, she was far nicer than I'd expected, even offering to have him sign the piece we chose.
The old saying really was true. Money did talk.
By mid-afternoon, I was feeling triumphant about my new acquisition and couldn't wait to tell Tristan about it at dinner, even if it meant breaking the "no work after five" rule. It was a breezy early October afternoon, so I dressed in a dark red dress that fell to right above my knees and black pumps, a celebration outfit of sorts and one I was sure Tristan would love for our date. As I looked at myself in the mirror in our bedroom, a decadent idea popped into my mind. Sexy stockings and a garter belt would be even better.
I slipped them on and attached them to the garter, loving the feel of their silkiness against my skin. I'd love it more when they drove him mad with desire as he tried to concentrate on the road in just a few hours.
Pleased with how I looked, I hurriedly checked my bank account to pay my cell phone bill and saw once again that I had more money than I'd anticipated. Despite working for the stated salary of $60,000, after five months I had over four times that amount in my checking account. Even after all this time, I still marveled at the numbers as they sat there on the screen. For the first time in my life, money wasn't a concern.
It also added to my fear that Tristan was going to simply let me go when my six months were up. Why would he make sure I had so much money if he was going to want me to stay? I wanted to believe that this was just one of his ways of showing me how much he loved me, but every time I checked my balance, an emptiness formed in the pit of my stomach.
Jordan's famous words echoed in my head—Good things happen to good people, Nina. I wanted to believe that more than anything. Closing my laptop, I hoped she was right.
I stepped out of the black Town Car in front of the apartment and a brisk wind blew my dress up nearly around my waist, a la Marilyn Monroe on the subway grate. A group of men across the street whistled, making me feel right at home back in Brooklyn. I bounded up the steps, dying to see my best friend, as the men yelled my name and compliments on my red dress.
As I reached the door, I turned around and waved, yelling, "Thanks!" Jordan waited in the apartment doorway at the top of the stairs with a huge grin on her face.
"Look at you! I love it! This new life of yours looks good on you."
I reached her and took her in my arms for a big hug. "It looks good?" I asked as she held me out at arm's length to check out my outfit again.
"Oh, honey. You look incredible. Same old Nina in a wonderful new package."
I beamed at her compliment. I felt wonderful and wanted the whole world to know it.
"Well, come in. Tell me everything. I need to know the details," Jordan ordered as she pulled me into the apartment.
Everything looked the same as it had when I'd left months earlier, except now there were some pictures on the living room walls. Turning toward Jordan, I pointed at them. "I leave and now there's artwork on the walls?"
She sat down in her chair across from my seat on the couch and chuckled. "I wouldn't call it artwork. Just some pictures. I had a little more money since your boyfriend paid your portion of the rent and more that day."
"More? How much more?" I asked, suddenly worried he was trying to buy me.
"About two grand. I told him I didn't feel right taking it, but he insisted. I assumed you knew because you asked him to."
I shook my head and frowned. "No. He never told me. And as much as you know I'd give you my last dime, I didn't ask."
"Why the frown? It's okay that you didn't ask."
"It's not that, Jordan. I just worry that he's trying to buy things he shouldn't."
"Like your love?"
"Yeah," I answered quietly.
"Honey, if he was trying to buy your love, wouldn't he have told you he did this?"
"I guess. It's just..." I didn't know how to complain about all the money in my bank account and not sound like a spoiled child. "He's done the same thing with me. Instead of paying me the amount I'm supposed to get, he's paid me nearly five times more."
"And the problem with that is?"
Jordan's expression told me she still thought I was acting silly all these months later. "I know what you're going to say. I should just enjoy this, right? It's just that my six months are almost up. What if he is giving me all this money because he doesn't plan to stay with me and wants to make himself feel good about it?"
"Still overthinking this, I see."
"But what if it's true?"
"Have you asked him?"
Looking down at my hands as they sat folded in my lap, I shook my head. "No. I'm too afraid of what he'd say."
"How much longer is there on your contract?"
"A few weeks."
"And has he been acting weird, like a boyfriend getting ready to break up with you? You know. Not answering calls or texts. Not showing up for dates. Has the sex fallen off?"
As I listened to her laundry list of signs, I couldn't say yes to one. He always answered my texts, never failed to be where he said he would be at exactly the time he said he would, and the sex had continued to be mind blowing.
"No to all," I admitted with a shrug. "He's wonderful, even though things at work seem to be constantly on his mind."
"So, let me get this straight. Your gorgeous, billionaire boyfriend treats you like a queen and makes sure you have piles of money to spend on yourself, and you're worried he's going to leave you? You're a bright girl, Nina. Figure it out."
"I know it sounds stupid, but I can't help it. I'm dreading the day that contract ends."
That was the cold, hard truth. I was sick to death over a date on the calendar. It never left my mind, no matter how much money he put in my account, no matter how many times he told me he loved me.
Jordan leaned forward and touched me on the knee, jarring me out of my thoughts about that day just weeks away. "Enough of this crazy talk. Tell me how he is in bed. And don't leave out the details. I'll know if you do."
A blush spread from the top of my head all the way to the tip of my toes. Even before I said a word, she clapped her hands together and exclaimed, "I knew it! No man who sounds so incredibly sexy when he speaks about something as boring as paying someone's rent could be bad in bed."
"Stop it! You're embarrassing me!" I cried, half joking. "I'm not telling you a thing."
"You don't have to say a word. It's written all over your face. I bet he's hung like a horse, isn't he?"
"Jordan!" The blush intensified at her words, confirming that she'd hit the nail on the head.
"I swear there's not a thing wrong with this man, Nina. If you say you're worried about anything with him one more time, I'm going to kick you out of this apartment and never speak to you again."
"That's harsh."
"I'm not kidding, Nina. I could understand if he lacked in one or two areas, but he's perfect."
"He's not perfect. I think many women wouldn't like how he's so possessive."
She laughed out loud. "The only time any woman dislikes a possessive man is if he keeps her from doing things she likes. Tristan doesn't do that, so I doubt there'd be many women in this world who wouldn't be madly in love with him just as he is."
I must have had a worried look on my face because she added, "And don't start thinking he's cheating on you or you have to be concerned about other women. That's not what I'm saying."
Putting my hands up in surrender, I smiled. "I know. I'm being stupid. You don't have to say it again."
"Good. I don't like telling people I love that they're being stupid, but I will when I have to. Tough love."
"Enough about me. Tell me about Justin, school, everything," I said, giving the subject a much needed change.
Jordan gave chapter and verse about how things had progressed with Justin, how she thought they were moving toward possibly moving in together, her class of third graders and how cute they wer
e, and all the news of the neighborhood, including what she thought of the new weird guy on the first floor.
"Do you think Mrs. Phillips will be okay?" I asked, growing concerned about the elderly lady.
"I hope so. I haven't seen her in a few days, but you know how she is. If she doesn't come out for grocery day on Friday, then I'll be worried."
"I'd hate to see something happen to her, Jordan. She's always so nice when she invites us to her apartment for cookies and that crazy spiked egg nog at Christmastime. I'm going to stop in just to see if everything's okay."
"Well, now you've guilted me, so I'll go with you. I just hope I don't have to see that guy."
As we left, I grabbed the letter I'd come for and stuffed it into my purse to read later. We walked down to the first floor as Jordan explained how creepy Mrs. Phillips' grandson was. Even without seeing him, I was repulsed. Greasy blond hair and crooked, yellow teeth were never a good combination.
The elderly woman's door was open just a crack, but I had a bad vibe about going in. Tugging Jordan back as she pushed the door open, I whispered, "No way. If that creepy guy is there, who knows what he'll do. This has the beginning of every Law and Order episode written all over it."
Nodding, she agreed. "Yeah, let's get the hell out of here. I'll check on her later with Justin."
The two of us hurried out of the building to grab a bite to eat and ran straight into Mrs. Phillips' grandson as he hit the top of the front steps. I scanned his face and saw he was more than just ugly. He was definitely high on something. Gripping Jordan's arm tightly, I whispered, "We need to go. He's not okay."
His bloodshot eyes stared into mine, and I knew he'd heard what I said. Before we could get away, he lunged at us and yanked on the straps of my bag. I tried to pull away from him, but whatever he was on made him superhero strong and he wrenched the bag down my arm to the crook of my elbow, pulling me down with it. Jordan screamed, scaring him, and he gave one last violent tug. The bag ripped down my forearm, and as he grabbed it, his elbow slammed into my head. Pain spiked out across the top of my skull, radiating all the way to my ear, and I fell back into Jordan in agony.
