by Shealy James
I laughed. “That’s the thing. Even if I wanted something to happen, it can’t go anywhere. My parents decided long ago that they will choose who I date. It’s just easier if I let them have their way.”
“Are you fucking serious right now? How old are you? Twelve? Grow up and cut those strings, girl. Don’t get me wrong, your dad’s a good guy and a great businessman.” She paused and gave me a sardonic look. “But you’re too old for someone to tell you who to fuck.”
A woman who knew nothing about my life was judging me. Lovely. Perfect. This day couldn’t get any better.
“Look, I don’t mean to be crass, but you deserve to have a little fun without Mommy and Daddy interfering.”
“I appreciate your wisdom, but Mommy and Daddy always interfere. Besides that, what would Adam want with a spoiled brat like me? He seems like the kind of guy who would rather avoid dealing with controlling parents and go for a laidback, low maintenance kind of girl.”
“Wouldn’t we all rather avoid dealing with controlling parents?”
“Exactly,” I said.
We said our goodbyes once we reached my little two-door Mercedes convertible. It was a relief to get into my car and only hear Theory of a Deadman coming through my speakers. I needed a break from my thoughts and Blythe’s oh-so-helpful advice. She couldn’t possibly understand the kind of authority my parents had over me. There was only one other person I knew who had yielded power as long as I had, and he recently grew a pair of balls and told his parents to shove it. Falling in love, apparently, made you brave.
I tried to rid myself of the depressing thoughts running through my head by going to my spot to do some writing. I walked into the coffee shop in the early afternoon, certain I would be able to get my favorite chair while most people were still at work. I was not happy to see it occupied, and even less thrilled when a pair of dark eyes looked up, pinning me where I stood in the doorway of the coffee shop. I stood frozen for just a moment as his blank expression changed to one of pleasure. I didn’t have a chance to process how I felt about that, because someone came barreling into me from behind, causing me to fall forward into another man who wound up with coffee all down his shirt.
“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” I heard the guy with the new coffee stain growl at the person who initially ran into me. If I hadn’t been thoroughly embarrassed before, I was now. All of the commotion caused the coffee shop to silence as everyone stared.
The large, scruffy man who had run into me was apologizing and trying to help me get my bag back on my shoulder, but Maverick wasn’t having any of that. “Hands off her,” he snapped as he pulled me from between the two men. Scruff McGhee held his hands up in surrender and backed away from a very angry Maverick. Coffee stain guy glared at Scruff and promptly headed toward the restrooms.
Maverick turned his eyes to me, and the anger dissolved from them immediately. “You all right, Duchess?”
“I’m fine,” I said before giving him a faux indignant glare. “You were in my chair.”
He grinned and shrugged. “I told you it’s my favorite.”
“Can I have it back now, Maverick?”
“Hmm…” I suddenly registered how close we were standing. I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact while his hands held onto my arms as if he was afraid I would fall over again. I had a moment where I thought about pushing up on my toes and pressing my lips to his. They were right there, so close and so sensual. I wanted his lips on mine, and everywhere else on me, if I was being honest. Then some unknown force snapped me out of that moment and brought me back to reality. Nothing could ever happen…well, nothing but some harmless flirting.
“Please,” I batted my eyelashes boldly. “I just experienced a traumatic event. I think I deserve the comfy chair.” I had to admit, this flirting business felt good.
“Then I guess it’s only fair. How about I buy you a coffee as well?”
“How about a chai tea latte instead of coffee?” I asked with a sweet smile. Kitty Peters wasn’t typically sweet, but there was something about Maverick.
“Done. Go get our chair before someone takes it. I’ll be over in a moment with your drink.” He finally let me go, and I felt unsteady from the separation. If it were up to me, his warm hands would be on me at all times, and the touch I craved wasn’t limited to my arms.
Ignoring my body, I headed over to the table. I placed his iPad in the orange chair he sat in the last time we were both here then curled up in our favorite chair that was still warm from him. It wasn’t long before he was bringing my tea and joining me in our spot.
“Thank you,” I said when he handed me my tea.
“Sure thing, Duchess. It’s the least I can do after I distracted you into getting run over.” He added a wink that would only work for someone like him. No ordinary guy would pull off that wink.
I ignored his flirting and focused in on the nickname he had assigned me. “You do know my name isn’t Duchess, right?”
“You know mine isn’t Maverick?” he fired back.
“Touché.”
“Although I do appreciate you recognizing I’m a nonconformist.” How could I not? My father would die if he saw the tattoos peeking out from his shirt. The thought gave me a little thrill, and I wondered for a second if I could give my father a heart attack by bringing Adam to the gala next weekend.
“All right then, Adam, what is it you do in my chair all the time?”
“Read, work, people watch. What about you, Katherine? What do you do when you sit in my chair?”
“I write. My chair.”
“What do you write?” Then he mouthed, “Mine,” drawing attention to his lips that were unmistakably sensual and extremely distracting. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, causing me to feel things that I definitely didn’t need to be feeling.
Clearing my throat, I responded a little shaky. “A small column in an online magazine about the shenanigans going on around town.”
“What magazine?” he asked.
“Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”
He stared thoughtfully at me for a moment then asked, “You covered Blythe’s showing?”
“I was there for my dad. He’s helping her invest in some different options.”
“Ah and you were…”
“I was checking out her art, showing support, you know? Keeping connections while my dad’s in New York.”
“I see.”
“What about you? I thought you two were together, but when I met with Blythe today, she indicated she was unattached.” Actually, she said that Maverick was the one who was unattached, but I didn’t want it out there that we were talking about him. Something told me his ego didn’t need it.
His brow furrowed in confusion. “Together? Me and Blythe?”
I nodded.
He laughed at that. Hmm…interesting. “We aren’t. We went to art school together. She’s a little too out there for my liking.”
“Art school? What kind of art do you do, Mr. Vaughn?”
“I paint murals like the one over there.” He nodded to the back wall of the shop.
I looked to the back where a realistic mural depicting a coffeehouse scene completely covered the wall. It was this coffeehouse. The colorful chairs and tiny tables gave it away. At first glance, the wall looked like an extension of the shop, as the depth made the shop look like it went on for several more feet. It was intriguing, and something I had never noticed before.
“You painted that?” I asked, surprised by his talent.
He nodded.
“Wow.”
“You seem impressed, Duchess.”
“I am. Who knew you were so talented?” I added saucily.
“Ouch.” He clutched his heart like I wounded him. “I’m a man of many talents.”
“Like?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He gave me that damn smirk I had been obsessing about since I saw it while sitting in this very chair the last time.
“Nice cop-out, Maverick.” He laughed. This man intrigued me more each time I met him. I had a feeling it would be bad for me, but I couldn’t help finding out more about him. “Where else do you have paintings?”
“Here and there,” he said. “Maybe one day I’ll show you.”
“Okay. That’s fair.” I wouldn’t tell him what magazine I wrote for, so this was his way of retaliating.
Our eyes connected and remained locked for a long moment. Once again, my heart picked up the pace, and those feelings I shouldn’t be feeling returned. Maverick was hot. From his dark eyes that bore into me, to the scruff on his chin, to the damn smirk, his face was one that belonged on the cover of a magazine…or a romance novel, for that matter. His body, from what I had seen, didn’t hurt either. In fact, I wouldn’t mind getting a better look. Stop it! Kitty Peters does not lust after hot, tattooed, coffee-drinking, smirking guys.
“How about you have lunch with me this weekend?” he asked, effectively ending our lust-filled staring contest.
“Are you going to take me to see your art?”
“Possibly. I was thinking more along the lines of making plans to see you instead of running into you randomly.”
My heart fluttered a little in a totally different way from moments before. He wanted to see me. I let myself get excited before reality came crashing down on me. The reality being my parents. They would never allow me to date a guy like Adam.
“Sounds fun, but I can’t.”
“Can’t this weekend or can’t ever?”
“Ever,” I said sadly. Unfortunately, neither Blythe’s advice nor Adam’s intense presence could make me brave enough to challenge the power my parents held over me.
“Hmm…we’ll see about that.” He looked at his watch. “Sorry, Duchess. Gotta go. See you next time.” He stood over me for a second then said, “There’ll be a next time.” With that, he walked out of the coffee shop, leaving me sitting in my favorite chair with my mouth hanging wide open.
Chapter Seven
Saturday morning I awoke to my mother’s phone call reminding me about the arrival of my glam squad. Charles was at my building at exactly ten in the morning to take me to my parents’ estate in Hunts Point. When I arrived, my mother quickly swept me away to begin the arduous process of getting ready for the party with her. Threading first, then manicures, pedicures, hair, and makeup were all done under my mother’s watchful eye. I was allowed my liquid lunch of a kale smoothie promptly at one, because God forbid I bloat up in my gown.
After all was said and done, I was starving and barely breathing in my fitted dress while Ward and I rode silently in a limo with my parents on our way to the Governor’s birthday party.
Ward had already told me that I looked beautiful when I greeted him that night, but once we climbed out of the limo and I took his arm, he quietly said to me, “You really are stunning, Katherine.” Ward didn’t seem like the kind of man to flippantly throw compliments around in the first place, but the quiet whisper of his words made them all the more meaningful. This time, I actually believed the words he said.
I smiled at his kindness, and at that moment, the photographer decided to take the photo of us walking into the party. He playfully rolled his eyes at the moment the photographer most likely caught.
Cocktail hour was surprisingly enjoyable. Between expertly introducing Ward to the Seattle elite who greeted us as we walked through the room, he and I had a pleasant conversation about growing up in our world. We had similar upbringings with nannies and private schools. He told me about his brother, who was five years younger and had a house full of children. His parents passed years ago when his father died of cancer and his mother of a broken heart. I apologized for that, and he shrugged it off like only a man could. I told him about my nanny, Miss Mary, and how my mother forced me to take ballet most of my life even though I had “bad feet.”
Dinner at the same table as my parents went better than expected, considering no one at the table could talk while Governor Rollins’ friends and colleagues took his birthday as an opportunity to roast him in good humor. The party really picked up with the after-dinner dancing and drinking. It was then that my mother found the time to try to sell me to Ward as if I were a used car she needed to offload onto some poor unsuspecting soul.
“Now, Edward, doesn’t Kitty look lovely tonight? It takes a lot of work to get there, but she’ll make an excellent wife in public. I’m sure of it.”
Ward politely nodded. “I’m sure she will, Mrs. Peters.”
“You’ll need to hire a good staff wherever you choose to reside, though. Kitty would never be able to manage a household. She can’t even keep track of her cell phone.”
“Perhaps she just doesn’t hear it ringing.”
“If that’s the case, I need to have her hearing checked.”
“Don’t be rude, Mother. You do realize I’m standing right here, don’t you?” I asked, interrupting their awkward conversation.
“Don’t be rude?” she scoffed. “I’m simply trying to let Edward know what he’d be getting into if he chose to pursue this relationship with you. It isn’t fair for him not to be warned.”
I ignored my mother and looked up at Ward. “Would you rather dance or continue to listen to my mother sell me like a cheap suit?”
He pressed his lips together in an effort not to laugh. “I can never pass up a chance to dance with a lovely lady such as yourself.” He then took my hand and guided me away from my mother, aka the worst madam in history.
Once on the dance floor and locked in Ward’s platonic embrace, I said, “I’m sorry for my mother. Please know I won’t judge you if you call a car to get out of here right now. You’ve lasted longer than I expected anyway.”
“Oh, no. I’m sticking this thing out. Besides, you never know what dirty little secrets she’ll spill next.”
I laughed. “Give her another glass of champagne, and you could be entertained for years to come. My impending humiliation would be beyond recoverable. We’re still in the she’s-my-drunk-mother-so-I can-ignore-it phase of the evening. Much more and I may need additional therapy to rediscover my self-esteem.”
“I’m impressed with how easily you laugh off her treatment of you. If you had seemed upset or angry, I would have felt the need to intervene. You just laugh it off, though.”
I smirked. “Years of practice.”
He smiled sadly at me. “That’s kind of sad, Katherine.”
My shrug indicated the end of the conversation that had taken a dangerous turn down a potentially emotional path. Instead of pressing me, Ward danced a little bolder, leading me across the dance floor until the big band ended the song. Ward guided me off the dance floor and grabbed two champagne flutes from a passing waiter.
“To exquisite dance partners and surviving our upbringings.”
“That sounds like a lovely toast,” I said as I gently clinked my glass against his.
My father walked over at that moment and clapped Ward on the shoulder. “Join me in the lounge for a cigar, son.”
Ward looked to me for permission. “Go. I’m going to run to the ladies’ room anyway. I’ll come and find you.”
He nodded and followed my father out of the room. I watched them go before turning on my heel and heading toward the ladies’ room. There was a line at the main restroom, so I headed back through the lobby to the lesser-known one on the other side. I was thankful for having attended so many events at this particular venue, because I knew I would be one of the few who knew about the unlabeled restroom that was past the lounge.
As I walked past the lounge, I saw my father and Ward sitting in two club chairs near the door. Their backs were to me, so of course they didn’t see me pass. Otherwise, I would like to think my father would have stopped his conversation as soon as I appeared. Unfortunately, that was not what happened.
As I got to the edge of the large entrance to the lounge, I heard my father’s deep rumble say, “Look, Vi wants her ma
rried off. You marry her, and I’ll teach you the ins and outs of my company. We want to keep it in the family, so Kitty’s husband will inherit the company when I die. I can’t leave it to Kitty. She’ll drive it into the ground. What do women know about running a business?”
“With all due respect, Richard, I know many successful businesswomen,” Ward replied, unimpressed by my father’s misogynistic opinion.
“Sure. They were all taught by men or have men behind them telling them what to do. My point is, son, that you can have Kitty as your wife. In public, she’s perfect. She can work a crowd, dress to the nines, and her mother has guaranteed that her manners are impeccable. You won’t find a better wife. Behind closed doors, have your fun. Just be discreet. No need to bring shame to my business by flaunting your mistresses.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m unclear on what you’re saying,” Ward replied to my father’s hideous suggestion. I wasn’t unclear at all. It was no secret in our house that my father had mistresses. Hell, my mother had affairs too. It was what two people who were stuck in a loveless marriage did. I never thought I would overhear my father making the same suggestion for my marriage, though.
Anger boiled inside of me. First, my mother, and now this. I was done. Done. Done. Done!
I took the three steps around the table to face my father. While the room was crowded, people seemed absorbed in their own conversations. Wishing for more privacy, I leaned across the table, so I wouldn’t have to raise my voice. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m leaving. Don’t you dare try to set me up again. From this point on, I choose who I date. I choose what I wear. I will choose my career, and if you and Mom don’t like it, you can shove it up your ass. I’m done with you two acting like I’m incapable of making life decisions. You’re not in control anymore.”
