Full Circle

by Lynne, Donya

  “I thought we’d decided we would choose a date after we moved into the house,” she said, her voice edged with suspicion.

  “House? What house?” her dad said.

  Mark cringed and closed his eyes.

  Oops. She hadn’t meant to reveal they were on the verge of living in sin, at least not like this. They’d been saving that conversation for later in the meal, after letting her dad first get used to the idea they were engaged.

  “Oh, um . . .” She felt the color drain from her face. “About that. Mark and I are moving in together.”

  “You’re what?” Her dad’s booming voice drew the attention of several nearby diners. “You just got engaged.” He shook his head, eyes wide. “You were engaged to Brad less than four months ago, Karma. You and Mark are barely back together, and you’re moving in with him?”

  “Dad—”

  “No, Karma. I’ve heard enough.” He stood. “I was keeping an open mind about your relationship. I even had a feeling the two of you had done something as ill-advised as getting engaged when you haven’t even been together four months, but I was willing to let you sort it out. But now you’re moving in with him? No, Karma. This is too much. You’re not ready. You haven’t been back together with him long enough to be ready for this.”

  She stood and threw her cloth napkin on the table. “Who’s trying to talk for me now, Dad? Huh? ‘You’re not ready’? How about you let me decide when I’m ready? How about you let me make my own decisions and you simply support them? Because I would really appreciate that.”

  They were causing a scene, but Karma didn’t care. She’d walked into the restaurant already emotionally keyed up about breaking bread with her dad and Mark at the same table. And then her dad had started in on Mark and ticked her off, and now Mark dropped this huge bomb on her that he still wasn’t ready to set a date, and now it felt like her entire evening was crashing like a defunct satellite into the ocean, the wreckage sinking fast.

  “I need some air.” Her dad started for the door.

  “John!” Her mom stared after him then looked back up at Karma.

  She slumped into her chair. “Just go, Mom. I’m sorry.”

  Her mom took her hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry about this, honey. I’ll talk to him. He’ll come around. Just give him time.”

  “Well, hell, I seem to have all the time in the world right now, so, sure . . . whatever.” Humiliation and anger wrestled inside her chest, making her heart hurt.

  Her mom gave her a sympathetic, if not confused, look then stood and addressed Mark. “Thank you for inviting us to dinner. I wish . . .” She shrugged sheepishly. “I’m sorry.” With that, she hurried off after her dad.

  Silence engulfed them, the air feeling like dead weight.

  Mark tried to take her hand, but she snatched it away and spun on him.

  “When did you decide to postpone setting a date until after spring?”

  “Karma—”

  “No, Mark. You told me we would set a date after we moved into the house. We’re doing that this week. And now you surprise me during dinner with my parents by announcing you’ve decided for both of us that we’re still not ready?”

  “I—”

  “Just forget it. Take me home.” She got up, clutching her pocketbook, and shoved her chair under her table.

  Chagrined, Mark slowly stood and followed her back to the entrance, where he retrieved their coats. But she refused to let him help her into hers. She yanked it from his hands and put it on herself then didn’t wait for him as she stormed out the door.

  At her apartment, they climbed into bed as silently as they’d driven there. It took forever to fall asleep, but she must have, because she awoke in the morning nestled in his arms.

  Damn traitorous sleep, always betraying her. She wanted to stay angry with him. Wanted to make him hurt as much as he’d hurt her. But lying there, listening to his peaceful, even breathing, smelling the subtle remains of his cologne from the night before mixed with the scent of his sweat, all she wanted was to cuddle closer.

  She had to force herself to pull away.

  He wouldn’t win her back over that easily. She needed to make a statement. To let him know she wasn’t happy about what he’d done, nor about how he’d made her feel.

  Not even trying to be quiet, she went to the bathroom and flipped on the water for the shower then shut the door. She didn’t slam it, but she also didn’t let the latch quietly snick closed. Mark was an early riser, anyway. He could get his ass up and suffer knowing she was still upset.

  He instinctively knew to give her space, because when she got out of the shower, he was no longer in the bedroom and the shower in the hallway bathroom was running.

  The apartment smelled of eggs, toast, and sausage, though. Then she saw the plate of food he’d left for her on the dresser alongside a small cup of tea and a note.

  I’m sorry. Please forgive me. -M

  Aw, so okay, that was sweet. No denying it. Still, a sweet gesture wasn’t enough to get him out of the dog house just yet.

  She set the note down, dressed, and then sat on the edge of the bed while she ate. Still, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of forgiving him. Not yet.

  By the time she finished breakfast, brushed her teeth, and tossed the last few items in her overnight bag for their trip to Chicago, it was six forty-five. Mark appeared from the bathroom dressed and clean-shaven.

  “Good morning.” He cautiously eyed her.

  “Morning.” She raised her chin and carried her bags to the living room after shutting off the bedroom light.

  He sighed and joined her, holding a small duffel. “You still haven’t forgiven me for last night?” He set down his bag and grabbed their coats from the rack by the door.

  “No.” She took her coat from him and slid it on then crossed her arms as he made one last check of the apartment to make sure everything was turned off.

  When he returned and took her bags before she could pick them up, she relented a little and said, “By the way, thank you for breakfast.” But like her dad, she was too stubborn to give more than an inch.

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled and met her eyes knowingly then opened the door.

  With a quiet huff, she exited and started down the stairs.

  This was going to be a long, uncomfortable ride to Chicago.

  Chapter 16

  Sometimes couples have to argue, not to prove who’s right or wrong, but to be reminded that their love is worth fighting for.

  -Nishan Panwar

  They were on their way back to where it all began. Chicago.

  The Chicago Arts Coalition’s annual benefit wasn’t for a couple more months, but she and Mark had already received their invitation. Well, Mark had. She was his plus one.

  And right now, staring out the passenger window of his BMW, she was a brooding, still-upset-with-him plus one. And conflicted.

  Maybe it was last night’s fight or the fact he continued putting off choosing a date, but that tiny part of her that still dwelled in insecurity’s realm poked its head from around the corner of her mind and took a step into the light.

  Did she really fit into his world? Look at how refined he was. She was simple, unaccustomed to extravagances like gold silverware and real china on her dining room table, attending elegant parties with the Who’s Who of Chicago’s elite, and dropping ten thousand dollars on chartered flights to the Caribbean.

  For the past few weeks, she’d been excited about moving in with Mark, but now the fact she was shacking up with a rich man unsettled her. He hadn’t changed, but something in her perspective had. She blamed the voices of self-doubt, though, not him. And not the woman she’d become. It was her past coming back to haunt her. The voices telling her she wasn’t good enough. That she and Mark were too different. That they would never work, because she would always be too humble to handle his wealth.

  Of course, reason scoffed at such claims. But right now, fear took the f
loor, so whatever words reason offered fell flat.

  She was going to meet his parents today, for God’s sake. His worldly parents who owned homes in Italy, London, and Paris. They were people who walked in small circles open only to card-carrying members, of which she wasn’t one.

  The question assaulted her thoughts again. What if she didn’t fit into Mark’s world? What if, after she met his parents, it became clear she was like a glass of milk served with grapefruit salad? The two just didn’t go together and damn near curled your toes clean off if you tried to mix them.

  Karma didn’t want to be milk. She wanted to be sugar. A sweet, perfect complement to tart grapefruit

  Despite their argument, she still wanted inside his world. Not as a bystander, but as an active participant who belonged there.

  The fact he came from money and possessed enough to bathe in was her problem, not his. This was her hang-up. She needed to figure out a way to deal with her concerns, but she also needed to make sure he knew she didn’t want to sponge off his inheritance. As she’d told him before, she wasn’t a gold digger, and she didn’t want to come off like one. That wasn’t why she’d fallen in love with him.

  Why did money have to be such an issue?

  Hopefully, over time, she would get used to this new dynamic. Maybe in a year she would look back and laugh at how neurotic she’d been over the fact he had millions.

  Right. She didn’t think she would ever get used to that.

  Sighing softly, she forced herself to think about happier memories, such as the night they’d met.

  She’d been so nervous sitting at that blackjack table while Daniel was off playing poker.

  And then there he was. Dark. Mysterious. Handsome.

  Magnanimous.

  Her Mark. Warning her not to take a hit on her cards. But she had anyway. She’d asked for another card only to bust. That had been the start of what she could only describe as an incredible, breathtaking, heartbreaking, and magical journey that led them to right now. In love, engaged, and embarking on both a scary and exciting path into the future.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  She broke from her reverie and glanced across the seat at him. “Hmm?”

  “I just wanted to know what was making you smile like that?”

  “Was I smiling?” She hadn’t noticed, but now, as her cheeks warmed, she realized she still was.

  “Yes, you were.”

  Their fight and her lingering resistance faltered as she glanced at him and saw the man she’d seen two years ago. Handsome. Powerful. Confident. Master of the universe. At least, of her universe. “I was thinking about the night we met.”

  A grin touched his lips, and a soft, reflective chuckle broke from his throat. “Did I ever tell you about the moment I saw you the very first time? I mean, what I thought the very second I saw you?”

  The chill that had plagued them since leaving her apartment instantly dissipated. “I don’t think so.” If he had, she couldn’t remember.

  He reached for her hand. She laced her fingers between his.

  “I was standing across the room drinking a scotch. At least I think it was scotch. I was feeling pretty miserable and down on my luck.” He paused, and a wistful expression fell over his face as if he were remembering. “And then there you were.” He shot her a quick, adoring glance. “It was like the sea parted and led my eyes straight to you. God, you were beautiful. You still are.” Another glance, a little longer this time, a little more reverent.

  Whatever problems stood between them, Mark clearly loved her beyond compare, still as smitten with her now as he had been then. Warmth spilled through her body, and she knew she was blushing from head to toe.

  “That red dress”—his eyes darted to her as if he could still see her wearing it—“was almost criminal. You were stunning in that dress. The most alluring woman in the room.” His fingers tightened around hers. “And I remember you looked so uncomfortable.” He chuckled. “You kept fidgeting and running your hand down the skirt as if you wanted to ensure it wasn’t showing off too much of your gorgeous legs.”

  She giggled quietly as she remembered how awkward she’d felt in that dress. That night was a lifetime ago. She’d come so far. “I’ll admit, I’ve become a lot more comfortable wearing clothes like that.”

  “Yes, you have.” He enforced the sentiment with another squeeze of his hand around hers. “But that night, you looked almost terrified. You had no idea how to handle all the attention, but I could tell you secretly loved it. That’s when I knew you just needed a little push and you’d discover how sexual you are.”

  In the months that followed, he had definitely pushed her. And he’d awakened hidden desires she hadn’t known she possessed. He still had the power to do that.

  “I remember thinking you looked like a princess meeting the public for the first time,” he said. “You liked the attention, but it intimidated you and you didn’t yet have the experience to know how to respond.” He paused, his expression tender yet possessive. “I knew the moment I saw you that I had to know you. And when I got to know you, I knew I had to have you.”

  The declaration sent a thrill through her, and warmth pooled between her legs. In this moment, Mark was completely open, and so was she. At times like this was when they became magical. This was when they became one.

  His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand. “When the seat opened next to you, I took it. I refused to let anyone else take the opportunity I knew was meant for me. I never imagined it would lead to this. That we would be here now, almost two years later, still together.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “You gave me the greatest gift that night. You blessed me with your presence. When every man in the room wanted you at his side, you were at mine. You chose me.” He tore his gaze from the road to glance at her. “You chose me, Karma, and for that I will always be grateful. You found me. You made me a better man.”

  She scooted to the edge of her seat, leaned over the center console, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. This was what she loved so much about Mark. He made her feel special. So very special. And loved. If only every woman had a man who made them feel this way, the world would be a better place.

  “I love you,” she said, wrapping her arm around his torso.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too, princess.”

  She giggled. “I’m not a princess.”

  “You’re my princess.”

  Once they reached the Palmer House Hilton in Chicago, they couldn’t get to their room fast enough. His parents had offered to let them stay at their home, but Mark had insisted on a hotel, and as rabid as they were to be alone, she was thankful he had.

  The moment they’d lost last night rose up higher, stronger, more intensely, demanding they commune in the most intimate way known to man and woman.

  As soon as the bell hop unloaded their luggage and the door shut behind him on the way out, Mark pressed her against the wall then lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

  His kisses blazed, his caresses burned, and his body surged against hers like a blast of hot air. All Karma could do was hold on, grapple for purchase, and pray she didn’t pass out.

  As he entered her on the bed a few minutes later, she came. And as he pummeled her body in an unrivaled sensory onslaught, she came again, and again, and still yet again.

  He flipped her over, held down her arms, bit the back of her shoulder, and gripped her hips so harshly she knew she’d find bruises there later.

  One awful fight and the resulting sexual frustration it had created blasted out of them, culminating in one of the most intense sexual experiences she’d ever had.

  When Mark finally collapsed against her back, his cock pulsing inside her, filling the condom he’d managed to roll on somewhere in the midst of transporting her into nirvana, she came again, shuddering in his grasp.

  The last bricks of the wall that had gone up between them last night fell, and for
a couple of hours, they forgot the world.

  Then it was time to get ready to leave.

  “Do I look okay?” Karma brushed her hands down the front of her off-the-shoulder grey knit top. The fabric was silky and draped alluringly over her breasts and torso. She wore a black camisole underneath, and a long, silver necklace adorned with round circular links hung around her neck. She’d completed the outfit with dark grey denim trousers and stylish black ankle boots.

  “You look perfect.” Mark kissed her and helped her into her coat. “Don’t be nervous.”

  He had helped her pick out the outfit and unintentionally matched her in his own denim trousers and dark-grey sweater.

  Still, she was second-guessing their decision not to dress more formally. “I feel like we should have dressed up more.”

  “We’re fine. Trust me.” He whisked her out the door before she could object further.

  His parents’ house was magnificent. A behemoth of brown bricks with white trim and a slate-grey roof. Four massive columns rose from five-foot-tall pedestals in front of the paned-glass entrance. It looked exactly like the type of house a millionaire would live in. Easily three times the size of their new home. Maybe even four.

  “You grew up here?” she asked as he pulled in front of the wide steps leading to the front door. Which was really an understatement. How did you call that a front door? It looked more like the entryway to a palace.

  “Yes,” he said, shutting off the engine.

  “And you weren’t popular in school?” She remembered him telling her how he’d been bullied, but she couldn’t see how someone with this much money couldn’t be one of the cool kids. If he’d gone to the school she’d attended, he’d have been the most popular boy there.

  “It was a very elitist school.”

  Shit. She didn’t want to see the houses of those other kids if this was considered the low end of the elite spectrum.

  “I guess.”

  The valet—valet? The Strongs had their own valet?—opened the door for him as another opened her door and held out his hand to help her out of the car. She took it and stood, gaping at the impressive mansion.