Cards Of Love: Queen Of Pentacles

by Leah Holt

  “Just say it.” His voice didn't hold any concern or worry.

  “I can't, I want to, but I'm afraid. It's bad, and I don't know what to do about it.”

  “Honey, get it off your chest. That's why I'm here, just tell me.” His hands grasped the counter, face soft and ready to hear me out.

  Opening my mouth to speak, the doorbell fired off, ringing out with the sound of wind chimes.

  Ding Dong

  My father's head jerked towards the front entrance and he held up his hand. “Hold that thought, watch the sauce for me.” Wiping his hands on a towel, he dropped it on the counter and left the room.

  Standing at the stove, I stirred the sauce and pasta. I could smell my mother's recipe, the sweet tang of tomatoes and spices wafted out of the steam, filling the air. Memories of being a little girl popped into my head.

  Every Wednesday night my mother would make pasta and her famous sauce. I'd stand at her side on this little wooden step stool, handing her whatever it was she needed. She would whisper the ingredients, telling me that my father could never know what she put in it.

  It was our secret, a secret she had learned from her mother and was passing down to me. After she died, I couldn't bring myself to recreate her dish, but my father wanted the tradition to live on.

  He spent countless hours adjusting the spices, adding more or less, letting it simmer for longer on different heat levels. He never asked me to tell him the recipe, he wanted to do it on his own.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I smiled to myself. I think he finally got it right.

  Deep laughter echoed in the entryway as my father and another man were talking. I could hear them going back and forth, their voices mixing with the music overhead.

  Ignoring the sudden guest, I let my thoughts drift between Ash and my position at the magazine. I thought about how wrong it felt to give in to Clint and how much I just wanted to tell Ash the truth.

  He deserved an answer, he deserved more than what I gave him. We barely knew each other and yet I felt like I owed him more than I owed the company or myself.

  What the hell does that mean?

  It's not love, it can't be love.

  Can it?

  The feeling my father expressed was a match to what I felt the first time I saw Ash. When he stood next to me at the bar and made that cheesy attempt to pick me up, my heart fluttered and my lungs stilled.

  The sad thing was it worked.

  In my heart I've been his ever since.

  Keeping my back to the doorway, I stared blankly into the pots, watching them bubble.

  “Nola, you didn't tell me I was cooking for three.”

  “What?” I asked, confused as my father's voice pulled me from my thoughts. Ticking my head in his direction, my heart stopped inside my chest.

  “Hey Babe, isn't this a sight for sore eyes. I never thought I'd see you standing at a stove cooking. And it smells good, that's a bonus. ” Clint peered at me as he stood next to my father, his eyes twinkling in that devilish glow. “I'm starving.”

  Squeezing his shoulder, my father looked between us. “Well, we have plenty, so you won't leave hungry.” Slapping his back, my father walked to my side and took the spoon.

  I stood silent, shocked that he had the balls to show up there after everything he had threatened me with.

  “Why are you here?” My jaw hung open, gaping wide in disbelief. “You're not supposed to be here.”

  Holding out his arms, Clint smiled. “I wouldn't miss this for the world.”

  “You need to leave,” I barked, stalking forward and latching onto his wrist. “Go, get the hell out.” Attempting to drag him back to the front door, Clint dug his heels into the floor.

  “Whoa, I just got here. I told you yesterday I'd be here for dinner, did you forget?”

  “I didn't forget, I just didn't think you'd actually come. After everythin—”

  “Shh,” he said, pressing his finger to his lips. “Forget all that, let's just enjoy a nice meal together. Your father went through a lot of trouble to cook this, I know it wasn't all you, it would be rude if we left now.”

  “No,” Throwing a hand to my chest, I said, “I'm not leaving, you're leaving.” Pointing a finger at him, I jerked my arm in the direction of the entrance. “Get the hell out of here, NOW!”

  “Nola, Sweetheart, calm down.” My father stepped between us, grasping my shoulders and looking me in the eyes. “It's okay, this isn't a problem. It's alright if Clint stays for dinner, it's okay that you didn't think he was coming, we have plenty.”

  Clenching my jaw, I growled. “It's not okay, he needs to leave. I don't want him here, I don't want him anywhere near here or me or any place I might be.” Glaring at Clint over my father's shoulder, I felt my father rub the outside of my arms.

  He was trying to calm me down, using what he knew to soothe me. He used to do that when I was little, he'd rub my arms and pull me in for a hug if I was sad or angry, and it always worked.

  But not then, it didn't do a thing to make the steam settle or my nerves stop from firing off like bombs in my brain.

  “Babe, listen to your father. You don't want this to get out of hand, there's no need for it. What's in the past is in the past, we're working it out, we're going to be fine.”

  “Get the fuck out!” I screamed, lifting on the the tips of my toes and pushing my face over my father's shoulder. “Get out of here! You're not welcome here!”

  I was ready to tear through my father and smack him in that rotten face of his. Every nerve in my body was exploding, every muscle was tensed and strained, begging to lash out.

  “Nola—”

  Cutting off my father, I pleaded for him to hear the desperation in my voice. “Please, Dad, make him leave. I don't want him here, I can't have him here. If you knew—”

  “You don't want to do this, Nola,” Clint butted in before I could finish. “Think about what you're doing, think about it long and hard.”

  Flaring my nostrils, my words cut through the air. “I have thought about it, now get the fuck out.”

  Taking in a deep breath, my father wrapped his arm around my neck and pulled me into his ribs. “Clint, you need to go. My daughter is obviously upset, so I don't think it's a good idea for you to stay.”

  “Rolland, this isn't what she wants, she's just confused.”

  “It sounds to me like she knows exactly what she wants and what she doesn't want. Go Clint, don't make me ask you again.”

  Huffing under his breath, Clint lowered his head and stomped his way by us. Through slit lids he glowered, giving me a look of death.

  Stopping, he dragged his hand across his chin and said, “You're going to regret this, Nola, just you watch.”

  “Get the hell out of my house, Clint.” Pushing me behind his back, my father took a step forward.

  Clint didn't protest, he simply walked away, slamming the door as he left.

  That was it, I couldn't take any more of that man. Breaking into tears, I fell back against the island and sobbed. My muscles were shaking violently as I clutched the edge, doing my best to stay on my feet.

  “Nola, what's wrong? What the hell is going on?” My father moved quickly to my side, taking my arm and helping me into the stool. “Tell me what that was all about.”

  “I can't,” I said, shaking my head. “I want to, but I can't tell you.”

  “Honey, just tell me.”

  “I can't, Dad.” Speaking as clearly as I could, I sniffled and wiped my cheeks. “You'd be so disappointed in me. We could lose everything you worked so hard to build.”

  “Nothing could destroy what we built, nothing.” Running his hand down over my hair, he kissed my forehead. “And I just told you how I got arrested. You could never disappoint me, Nola, not ever.” Lifting my face up with a single finger, my father's eyes searched mine. “What have I always told you?”

  “It doesn't matter how many times you fall, you get your ass up and keep going.”

  �
��Exactly, so get your ass up and fix whatever it is you need to fix. And if you need my help, I'm here, just like I've always been.”

  Everyone who knew my father in the magazine world, thought of him as a callous old asshole. But that was so far from the truth.

  My father was the most loving man in the world. Everything he had done was always for his family. That was how he worked. No matter how lost he thought he got along the way, his intentions and heart were in the right place.

  And as I sat there, looking into the eyes of the man who had moved mountains to make his name, I knew he was right.

  I could fix this.

  Even if that meant jumping off a bridge and starting over.

  I wasn't going to let Clint walk all over me, holding this damn video over my head like a halo of fire.

  I know what I need to do.

  Chapter Nine

  Ash

  I tried, I tried so fucking hard to convince myself that she wasn't worth this kind of trouble. But nothing I did worked, she was all I could think about.

  Nola had texted me several times, telling me we needed to talk. I ignored her. The temptation was there, the pads of my fingers hovered over the screen, ready to ask her when and where. The messages came within minutes of each other, but I didn't answer her.

  'Ash, let's talk.'

  'Ash, please, I need to talk to you.'

  'I know you're pissed, but there's something I need to tell you. Just give me a chance to explain. Call me.'

  After that, I turned my phone off. I forced myself to shut down.

  Why?

  Because I expected her to fight for me as much as I was ready to fight for her. Clint had tried to force me away and I said no. It was a simple choice to me that no amount of intimidation could control.

  But she just gave in, accepting her fate as if it was set in stone.

  Why did she give up so easily? She's weak to her world. She's cares too much about what others think.

  I couldn't get the thought out of my head. I didn't want to think that the girl of my dreams could be so superficial, then again. . . what did I really know about her?

  I knew she came from money, I knew her name carried weight, and she could have anyone she wanted with a snap of her fingers.

  Why would she want me at all?

  I'm not worth fighting for.

  She was the CEO of a multi-million dollar magazine and I was just a washed up reporter who chose to destroy his career with a cock pic. We were two people who crossed paths that shouldn't have.

  It was purely chance that brought us together and now it was blackness pushing us apart. The hole opened up, swallowing me as if I was nothing.

  The thought hurt, it stabbed me in the chest like a serrated blade.

  I was falling in love with Nola York. I knew it the second I saw her, the instant I laid eyes on her.

  I felt her in my bones, I could physically feel her on my skin and in my head. Her face was all I could see, her voice was all I could hear. I wasn't a man who believed in love before her, but I didn't have any other words to describe the knot in my gut or the buzzing in my veins.

  If this is love, I don't know if I want it.

  I hurt too much, the pain so intense it made me angry. I was pissed, and it wasn't for the reason I wanted it to be. I wasn't angry at her, I wasn't upset that she thought this was what she needed to do.

  I was pissed at myself for not doing more.

  I'm not giving up on this.

  I can't.

  It was hard for me to wrap my head around the urges that were controlling me. The idea that this person had completely consumed every nerve and beat of my heart didn't seem possible. I just couldn't come up with any other explanation for what was living and breathing inside me.

  When they threw me out of the building, all I wanted to do was run back in and take her with me. I wanted to make her choose between power or happiness.

  But that wouldn't be fair.

  All of that was hers, who was I to try and rip her from it?

  I'm a selfish bastard.

  Every ounce of my body knew something that my brain was still trying to deny. My inner voice was sternly reminding me that she was just another piece of ass, that this job wasn't worth this shit. Not being tied down to one person was the one rule I had always stood by.

  Yet, here I was, sitting yards away from the front door, tapping my heel against the ground as I waited for her to come out. The muscle in my chest thudded loud and hard, drowning out that stupid little voice.

  My heart spoke up, it took charge, it made choices that went against everything I had planned for my life.

  Vance busted through the door, glancing left and right. He didn't notice me sitting across the street, hidden behind a lamp post and mailbox. Lifting up his phone, he started pressing the screen as he hung his head and walked off in the opposite direction.

  More employees flooded out, all of them scattering like ants out of the mound. Checking my phone, I looked back at the exit just in time to see Clint parade through the door like he was God's gift to mankind.

  The rage I felt inside bubbled, percolating under the skin like hot coffee. Tempted to charge him and kick his ass, I took in a deep breath and looked down at my shoes.

  No, he's not worth it.

  I'm not fighting him, I'm fighting for Nola.

  From the corner of my eye, I watched Clint hail a taxi and disappear inside. The red brake lights mimicked the anger in my eyes. I would deal with him at some point, just not today.

  Tapping my fingers against my thigh, I stood up and started for the building. Most of the employees had left, which meant that Nola wouldn't be far behind.

  It didn't take long, only a few minutes. With her head buried in her purse, Nola walked out the door, unaware that I was right there.

  Fuck this woman is so beautiful.

  The profile of her face gave me chills. Her hand swept up, brushing the hair away from her eyes as she fumbled inside her purse. Yanking out her phone, she stared at the screen as her thumbs tapped rapidly.

  My phone pinged and her head jerked in my direction. Giving her a smile, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and looked at it.

  'Please, just call me.' Her words lit bright.

  “You do miss me,” I said, stepping to her side. “I knew you would.”

  “I've been trying to reach you for days. What are you doing here?” she asked, grabbing my arm and dragging me into the alley beside the building. “If security sees you here, they'll call the cops.”

  “Let them, I don't give a shit.” Shrugging a shoulder, I tucked my hands into my pockets. “You said you wanted to talk. Here I am.”

  “Yeah, I do, but not like this.” Her eyes nervously looked around as she poked her head out of the alley. “Let's go someplace else.”

  “Alright, I have a place.” Braiding our fingers together, I pulled a set of keys from my pocket.

  “You have a car? I didn't think anyone in this city owned a car.” She forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Not exactly.” Looking in both directions, I walked her across the street. “Here,” I said, handing her a helmet. “Climb on.”

  Nola held the helmet in her hands and stared at me. “You have a motorcycle, and you want me to climb on in this?” Looking down at herself, she opened her arms.

  Her little blue dress wrapped her body perfectly, highlighting her curves. The tops of her breasts pillowed out, drawing my eyes down. Her legs looked smooth and silky, tempting my hands to stroke her flesh.

  “Yup,” I said without pause. “Let's go.” Wrapping my leg over the seat, I put the key in the ignition and started the bike.

  The engine rumbled to life, making my chest vibrate. Holding the bars, I twisted the throttle, making it roar louder.

  “Well, you coming or what?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at her.

  Placing the helmet on her head, she buckled the strap. Awkwardly, Nola tried to adjust her dres
s and slip her leg over the seat. “My underwear is going to show.” Taking a step back, she placed her hands on her hips in protest.

  “And that's a problem how?” Reeving the engine again, I pulled up the kickstand with my foot. “You can either get on and we can go talk, or you can stay here and we don't. It's your choice.”

  I sounded like a dick, I know.

  It wasn't that I purposely wanted to be rude to her, I just wasn't sure where she stood with me exactly. I knew what I wanted, but that didn't mean we both wanted the same thing.

  “Fine, we'll do this your way.” Adjusting herself, she held the middle of the her dress and threw her leg over the seat. Wrapping her hands around my chest, she dug her nails into the muscle.

  Nola clutched me like she was hanging on for her life, forcing my dick to twitch and my heart to hammer. I loved the way she felt wrapped around my body, squeezing her tits against my back. She was holding onto me like she never wanted to let go.

  I could feel the fear in the tips of her nails and gratefulness in the pads of her fingers as the bike smoothed out. Her grip loosened slightly, relaxing as the road opened up and the wind swept over her face.

  There was pleasure in this drive for me. It was freedom in so many ways. A small smile split against my lips as I drove us out of the city, miles away from prying eyes. We were together, outside the confines of her office, away from the world that made her someone else.

  I loved who she was when no one else was around, I loved her light spirit and how her walls shifted from high to low. Outside that building I had the girl I met that night, and that was the person I always wanted her to be; not the person who feared what others thought.

  I wanted the woman who took my breath away.

  Pulling off the highway, we followed a tightly packed dirt road through S-shaped curves. The motorcycle's tires slipped over the gravel, but I kept the bike steady.

  A small clearing opened in front of us between thick trees. Stopping the bike, I turned off the engine and let go of the handles.

  “Where are we?” she asked, unclipping the helmet and pulling it off.

  “A place we can talk.” Flipping down the kickstand, I climbed off and stretched my arms over my head. “Follow me.” Starting forward, Nola slid off the seat and dug her heels into the dirt.