by M. S. Parker
Nothing anybody did seemed to help.
Every time the phone had rung, Fawna had been sure it would be the police, saying they’d found Kelsey’s body. Then, about six months ago, Kelsey had called. She was pregnant, and still using. She wanted to come home.
Fawna had brought her daughter home and for a short while, I’d thought, hoped, maybe it would work.
Kelsey had only been in her six month when she’d gone into labor. She’d been underweight and sick a great deal too. She’d starting bleeding shortly after delivery and they hadn’t been able to save her. The baby had made it…barely. The poor little guy was now a month old, but he still had a long road ahead of him.
“Poor guy,” I said, focusing on the baby instead of her leaving. “Spending the first two months of his life in the hospital.”
“He’s a tough little guy.” Fawna squared her shoulders. “He’s going to be fine.”
“Of course he is.” I hugged her. “He takes after his grandma.”
She laughed, but the sound was tired. “Grandma,” she repeated, shaking her head. “Sometimes, I still don’t believe it.”
After a moment, she moved away, taking her glass and sipping from it as she stared out the window. My penthouse faced out over Central Park and she gazed at the view as if she didn’t see it. “You asked me why I chose Aleena,” she said as she turned back towards me. “I picked her because I think she’s exactly what you need.”
I stared at her for a moment, unsure how to respond to such a statement. Before I could come up with anything, however, my phone rang. Fawna glanced at it and her face hardened.
Shit. I knew what that meant.
“You should get that, and I should get going.” She turned away. “I’m going to arrange to have what I won’t need for the next few weeks put in storage.”
I’d arranged for her to stay in a suite of rooms close to Eli’s hospital. Lately, she wasn’t here very often; it shouldn’t be such a shock to think about her putting her things in storage, to think about her leaving.
But it was.
As the phone rang again, I looked down.
As Fawna slid out, I answered it. “Hi, Mom.”
“Darling. It’s not a bad time, I hope?”
I grimaced and lied. “No, Mom. I’m working from home today.”
“That’s nice.”
Those words were followed by a stilted silence. I didn’t bother to try and fill it. We’d never handled small-talk well.
“How’s Fawna’s grandson doing?”
I scowled at the phone. “He’s improving. The doctors think he’ll be able to leave within the next month.”
“Such a long time,” my mother said quietly.
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
Fawna and my mother had never gotten along well, mostly because of my mother. Fawna had tried, more than once, to reach out. I think some part of my mother was jealous, envious of the easy relationship I shared with Fawna. They’d practically adopted me, raised me…and I connected better with a teacher I saw for a few minutes a day than I did with my parents.
Of course, that teacher had tried.
She’d reached out.
She’d made it seem like I mattered, that I was more than my pedigree.
My parents loved me, and I knew that, but they didn’t know how to handle children. Most of my childhood, I’d been raised by nannies, trotted out on holidays and special occasions. Other than that, I was off to one boarding school or another. Eventually, I’d had my fill of them and rebelled, getting in trouble. It wasn’t long before I’d been brought home. The local private schools hadn’t been much better and listening to my parents fight definitely hadn’t helped.
I probably would have turned out okay, if it wasn’t for—
Don’t. I jerked my thoughts to a halt before they could go down that dark, ugly path. Don’t go there.
“I spoke to Fawna yesterday. I hadn’t heard from you for a few days and I…well, I called her to see how everything was. She said you were busy looking for her replacement…?”
She left the question open-ended. Reaching up to pinch the bridge of my nose, I tried to ignore the headache that was building. “I’m hiring a new PA, yes, but there’s no replacing Fawna. She’s one of a kind.”
I didn’t bother to ask why she hadn’t called me. Instead, I repeated, “There’s no replacing Fawna.”
“Yes, you’ve always been…fond of her,” she said, her voice growing tight. My mother still believed I loved Fawna more than her.
That wasn’t true—entirely. I did love my parents, although there was no denying that Fawna understood me better. She’d always been there, even when my parents weren’t, when they couldn’t be. My mother had believed that Fawna and I were lovers, an idea that personally leaves me really disturbed, since I see Fawna as a mother-figure, of sorts.
Not that I’d tell my own mother that. I’ve got enough parental issues as is. I don’t need to add to them.
“Other than being busy, everything is well?” she asked, her voice taking on an edge.
I sighed and closed my eyes. Over a decade and we still couldn’t have a normal mother-son conversation. “Yes, Mom. I’m fine. Just busy. My new business is opening in a couple weeks and I have a lot to do for it.”
“Right,” she said. “The match-making company.”
“Yep. My match-making company. My little project.”
“Did you need any help with it? Connections? Money?”
“It’s all good, Mom.” I didn’t remind her that my net worth was now twice what hers and my father’s had been when they’d been married. She’d helped finance my first hotel purchase, but I’d paid her back with interest less than two years later.
“Beatrice Rittenour was saying that her daughter, Penelope, was talking about signing up for your services. I’m sure you remember her.”
It was a good thing my mother wasn’t here to see my face. The sneer would have appalled her. Penelope…yeah, I remembered her. She was three or four years younger than me and had already been well-groomed to take her mother’s place as the public face of the Rittenour fortune, complete with the plastic smile and ability to turn any compliment into an insult.
“Have you considered using your company to see what eligible women are out there for you?”
And now we were at the real reason for the call.
“Since you’ve expressed your desire for me to remain out of your romantic affairs, this might be a good way for you to see what your options are.”
“Mom.” I kept my voice polite, but firm. “That wouldn’t be very professional of me.” I didn’t add that I didn’t give a fuck if she thought the women I saw were ‘appropriate’ or not. It didn’t even matter that I wasn’t planning on settling down with anyone in the first place.
“Dominic, darling—”
“I’m not getting married, Mom,” I snapped. “We’ve had this discussion before. It’s not going to happen, and certainly not with someone like Penelope Rittenour. I’ve seen firsthand how those kinds of marriages end up.”
“Your father and I—” she began.
“No,” I interrupted again. “I’m not talking about this. You said you called to see if I was okay. Well, I am. I’m busy with work and helping Fawna take care of things with Eli. Was there something else you wanted?”
Silence.
I hated talking to her this way.
I hated this chasm between us.
But she refused to understand that the man she wanted me to be and the man I already was were a world apart.
The world she lived in and the world I wanted to live in couldn’t be any more different.
Her world was benefits and banquets and society functions.
If I had my way, I’d lose myself in work from the time I woke up, right up until…oh…eight or nine o’clock, then I’d lose myself between the thighs of a woman. Then I’d sleep and start the cycle all over again. Making money was a game and sex
was the release.
That was all my world needed to be.
Society could go fuck itself.
But that concept was foreign to my mother.
“I’m sorry, Dominic. I’m just…” She paused and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter. “I just worry about you. I’m sorry to bother you.”
She hung up and I was left feeling guilty. I don’t know if that was her intent, but it left me wanting to throw the phone. Instead, I put it down with controlled force and turned, bracing my hands on the counter as I stared ahead at the cabinets.
I saw absolutely nothing.
My relationship with my mother still felt completely broken.
I guess I should give her some credit. At least she tried. That was more than my father had done. We hadn’t spoken in a decade and change. Ever since—
Dark, ugly blasts of memory swamped me and I shoved away from the counter. Driving the heels of my hands against my eyes, I tried to blot out those memories, but they never stayed buried for long. I could lose myself in work or I could lose myself in booze or I could lose myself in vice. If I didn’t stay busy, though, the ghosts of my past found me.
I’d decided a long time ago, I wasn’t going to end up drowning in alcohol, so I did the logical thing. I left the kitchen and headed for my home office.
I had work to do.
I wondered if Aleena had any idea what she’d gotten herself into.
8
Aleena
Emma had taken the check—and my news—with surprising good grace.
My rental agreement with her did indeed have a provision for what happened if I moved out without giving her sufficient notice. It was kind of necessary, and I got why. She’d be up a creek without a paddle if she constantly had roommates not holding up their financial end of the bargain and yeah, I was one who had been slacking.
I’d been surprised with a sign-on bonus, and Fawna, in an act of extraordinary kindness, had given it to me immediately, instead of waiting ninety days as was typical. “I’m sure you need to square things with your roommate,” she’d told me. She had no idea how badly I needed to square things with my roommate. I’d paid Emma for this month’s rent and an additional month, according to the rental agreement if I left without giving sufficient notice.
And—bonus—I still had money left to put in the bank for once. That meant I was able to do some shopping. I’d needed it, too, because my business wardrobe was woefully non-existent. Molly had come through in spades there, taking me to a dozen kitschy little consignment shops where I found barely worn designer suits and retro pieces that made me feel like a million dollars.
Now, three days later, Molly lay on the new bed in my new room and stared up at the skylight.
Dominic had tried to insist I allow him to pay for a moving service. I’d put my foot down, while Fawna had quietly laughed from the side. Molly and I had just finished bringing in the last of my stuff and I was thoroughly exhausted.
“This is so unreal,” she said, sighing happily. Then she slid me a look. “And your boss….oh, my goodness. Want to talk about unreal…honey.”
Dominic hadn’t been happy about my refusal so he’d shown up at my door both yesterday and today. The sight of him hefting boxes was one that would linger with me for a long time to come. Muscles bulging under worn tees, jeans clinging to strong thighs…
Stop drooling over your boss. I managed a casual smile for Molly. “Yeah, tell me about it. You should see him in just a towel.”
Molly laughed while I rubbed at my stiff neck.
I dropped down on the scoop-styled chair that had come with the apartment. Both Fawna and Dominic had told me I could have the place redecorated however I wanted, but I like how it looked. It was bright, airy, and feminine without being fussy. And mine…I hadn’t ever dared hoped for someplace like this. Not even once. Well, not after I saw what New York real estate went for.
“How did Emma take the news?” Molly asked, bonelessly shifting position and rolling onto to her belly.
“Well, once I ponied up the money for the rent for this month and next?” I shrugged. “She couldn’t have cared less.” Then, wrinkling my nose at her, I added, “But you should have seen the look on her face when I told her about my new job. You would have thought she’d swallowed a whole lemon.”
“I bet.” Molly hooted with laughter. “You found the golden goose, baby. I mean…wow. I knew the guy looked familiar, but I had no idea that Dominic Snow was one of the Snows.”
I drew up my knee, instinctively glancing toward the door. Dominic wasn’t here. He’d left after we’d finished bringing up the boxes. While he was gone, I planned to unpack what precious little I owned and settle in.
Molly had a shift starting in less than three hours and once she left…
I swallowed the knot that formed in my throat.
Once she left, I’d be on my own in a world that felt so alien.
It was Saturday, my first official day of living here. Monday, I’d started my new job, although I’d been going through the motions for the past two days with Fawna walking me through things while I took a hundred thousand notes.
“I’m gonna have to go soon, girl,” Molly said with a sigh, moving into a sitting position. She stared at me. “What are you going to do?”
“Take a bath.” I grinned at her. “I’ve been dying to try that tub out.”
“Hmmm.” Molly waggled her brows at me. “Maybe I could stay a little longer. We can make it a double.”
“Pervert.” I made a face at her. Molly flirted with just about anything with a pulse and I was used to it by now. Throwing one of the decorative pillows at her, I picked up the folder lying on the table next to the chair. “I’ve got homework for later. Fawna left me with all of this to go over. At some point, she tells me I’ll have all of this memorized.”
I eyed it dismally, wondering just how it was possible.
Molly rose and came toward me. “What is it?”
Protectively, I covered it with my hand. “Sorry. Private.” I shrugged. “A lot of the stuff I do for him falls under ‘If I tell you, I have to kill you’ territory, I think.”
“Man, he’s James Bond…I knew it.”
“Exactly.” I rolled my eyes and put the folder down, tucking it into the space between my seat and the table, out of sight. “If you’re heading out, I’ll walk you to the elevator. I want to grab some lunch anyway.”
“Okay. Speaking of lunch…we need to make plans to meet. You’re all the way across town now.” Molly’s face took on a glum cast.
Impulsively, I hugged her. “I know. We’ll make plans for next week, maybe?”
“I’m working Saturday. Sunday?”
“Done.” We headed toward the elevator, talking although my mind was already on that bath.
After Molly left, I slipped back inside and pressed my back to the door, staring at the world I’d somehow tumbled into.
“Welcome to Wonderland, Alice.”
Although the bath in my suite called me, I hadn’t had a chance to explore, not really. Licking my lips, I chanced a glance back at the door.
Dominic was still gone.
Slowly, I moved around the open area that was both living room and dining room. The dining table was set up in front of a broad, floor to ceiling window that stared out over Central Park. I stood there a moment, staring down over the green. It only intensified my feeling that I was no longer in any sort of world I recognized.
It wasn’t entirely a comfortable feeling, so I moved away, hurrying into the kitchen. This place, at least, was one where I knew what I was doing. I’d always liked to cook and both Fawna and Dominic had assured me I was welcome to use the area as often as I wanted. There was a professional chef who came in for Dominic, and I was told he’d be available for me as well, but I couldn’t imagine anybody cooking for me.
It had been forever since I’d been able to really cook. That miniscule kitchen back at Emma’s place barely qualified as a re
al kitchen and I couldn’t make anything without crashing into one counter or the other. There was no way to make a real meal without stopping half way through to wash the pots and pans.
Leaving the gleaming surfaces and polished chrome, I padded down the hallway to find the offices where I’d be working with Dominic when we stayed in. More windows, letting light pour in. I saw a desk that I assumed was mine and a massive one that could only be his.
It was also in a state of semi-organized chaos. I grimaced. Fawna had told me on Friday why she was leaving and my heart broke for her. It also explained why the office was in this state. The meticulous woman wouldn’t allow this, but she had other priorities now.
As I continued through the penthouse, I found two more bedrooms with their own bathrooms. One of the beds struck me as unusual, although I couldn’t figure out why.
The last two rooms downstairs were a pantry and laundry room.
If you had replicated—no, triplicated—the apartment I’d shared with Emma, you could have fit the entire thing into the downstairs alone and had room left over.
Upstairs, the only rooms were mine and Dominic’s. My personal apartment, complete with its own personal kitchenette, a sitting room, a bathroom and its own laundry was double the size of my old place. But Dominic’s rooms dwarfed it. I paused in the open doorway for just a minute, just long enough to bring in his scent, so that it flooded my head.
It was slightly spicy and wholly male, the very same scent that had surrounded me the day we’d met. It was the same cologne he’d been wearing that fateful day.
“Stop it,” I told myself, pushing away from the door.
But the memory followed me, all the way into my rooms. Closing the door behind me, I then leaned against it. My nipples peaked and stiffened against my bra.
I thought of his arms, bare and glistening from his shower.
What would it be like, I wondered, to have those arms around me? To lick away the droplets of water that had rolled down his chest?
Frustration burned inside me and I shoved away from the door, striding into the bathroom. As I walked, I jerked off my shirt, tossing in the general direction of the wicker basket that Fawna had left behind. I dumped my shoes in the closet, and then I tossed my yoga pants and underwear toward the basket as well.
