His to Love (Fireside #1)

by Stacey Lynn

  “Forgiven.” His penetrating gaze seemed to evaluate me for several moments before he took a bite of his own meal.

  Between bites, he told me about his family’s history and his house. I asked appropriate questions at appropriate times, feigning interest. I became truly interested only when he told me about the gardens at the back of his house that were currently hidden in darkness. While in Colorado, I had learned to love nature and its simple beauty and majesty.

  But while Malik spoke, I felt apprehensive and uneasy, stuck in a chair at the most disastrous job interview. He was trying to prove himself worthy of my family and me, while at the same time, I was under interrogation to see if I was a fitting wife. A trophy wife. A sign of his strength.

  He was charming and smooth. I couldn’t deny that. I also believed he could have his choice of women. The fact he wanted me spoke volumes. He was raised in a family similar to mine, where impressions and perceptions were more important than what was hidden behind the veil, what was spoken in private rooms. He was willing to do anything to get what he wanted, which was success, money, and more power and more influence.

  I wanted a home and a family and a career I was proud of.

  “Dinner was delicious,” I said when I’d finished not only my entire plate but also a small plate of tiramisu that was deposited in front of me while he spoke of gardens and hedges. “And the view here is truly lovely.”

  “I hope you will return again, see the land during the day. I have no doubt you’ll be impressed.”

  I was sure I would be. If I had any intention of stepping foot inside the house again. Yet, because of my deeply ingrained manners, I found myself saying, “Thank you for this. The stars are lovely out here, out of the city.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Gabriella.”

  I forced myself to maintain a smile while at the same time I tried to figure out how the evening could end without risking blatantly offending the man. I needed time to figure out how to walk away without pissing off my father, Rilotti, and my mother at the same time. Fortunately for me, his phone beeped on the table, illuminating the screen with an incoming call. Malik glanced down, scowled, and then pushed it to the side.

  “You can answer if you must,” I said politely.

  With an almost sheepish grin, Malik leaned back in his chair. “It would be rude of me. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  I went to insist, only to again be cut off by more ringing. “Please.” I waved my hand in his direction. “I’m not offended.”

  With a quick nod, he pushed back from his chair. “If you’ll excuse me then, for just a moment.”

  I returned his polite nod and reached for the bottle of wine. Then I enjoyed the crisp, fruity flavor as it hit my taste buds, listened to the crickets chirping, and reveled in being able to see the stars. The night was cloudless with the faint hint of a crescent moon near the edges of a row of trees. It was so peaceful once Malik stepped inside and I was left alone with my thoughts.

  My memories of Tyson.

  How lobster and scallops in a beautiful setting couldn’t compete with Cherry Yo-Ville. Any day of the week, I would choose yoga pants and fro-yo over cloth napkins and crystal goblets, much to my family’s dismay, and perhaps my own.

  “I apologize again, Gabriella,” Malik said, his voice a bit more clipped than before. “Unfortunately duty calls.”

  I quickly pushed back my chair. “I understand.”

  “If you don’t mind, I will have Johan drive you back to the hotel. I have other matters to attend to.”

  I smiled freely. It sounded perfect. “That will be fine, honestly, Malik.”

  His eyes did that calculating scan thing, and I saw only a hint of a disappointment in his glance when he reached my smile. I was too obvious. Too happy to be away from him.

  “Very well.” With a sweep of his arm, he gestured me ahead of him. “Thank you for a lovely evening. And hopefully there will be more to come,” he said quietly when we reached the front doors. Johan stood with his back against the door, keeping it open for me to walk through.

  I turned around and smiled again. “Thank you for dinner and the stars.”

  He leaned forward, brushed his lips across my cheeks, and whispered, “Thank you for being you.”

  Unfortunately, as I said my final goodbye and followed Johan to the waiting car, I didn’t think that was a compliment.

  I could find nothing good about me or my current position.

  —

  I was halfway back to my hotel, sitting in the back of the town car with Johan at the wheel, when I checked my phone for the first time since I’d stepped into the Apollonio Hotel lobby hours ago.

  I grinned, only to have it immediately falter after I read a text from the person I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

  Blackbird: Client’s dinner was canceled. Can I see you?

  The time stamp was three hours ago, and it was too late for me to see him now. It was almost nine and after the day I’d had, exhaustion had already begun making my eyelids heavy.

  Me: So sorry. Just received this and on my way home. Raincheck?

  I frowned when I don’t get an immediate response and then shook off the ridiculousness. Sliding the phone back into my clutch, I told myself it was no big deal.

  After arriving at the hotel, I gave my thanks to Johan and the valet before heading straight to my room and stripping off my fancy dress and heels. I threw on a tank top, washed my face, and brushed my teeth while my lethargy increased with every moment. By the time I finally collapsed into my bed, intent on falling asleep immediately, I was barely conscious when my phone on the nightstand began vibrating.

  “Hello?” I asked, my voice already sounding tired.

  “Did I wake you?”

  My lips stretched wide as I recognized Tyson’s voice. “No,” I said, quickly sitting up in bed and adjusting the pillows behind my back. “I’m awake, just tired. How was your night?”

  A deep sigh echoed through the phone, hitting my ears, and then doing funny things to my lower belly as it vibrated through me.

  “Long,” he finally said and cleared his throat. “I’d give anything to be in that room with you right now, though. Are you in bed?”

  “I am.” My tank top suddenly felt too hot for my skin. I imagined Tyson picturing me in the bed where he woke up that morning. The thought to invite him over flickered through my mind, but I pushed it away. It was too late. “What are you doing?”

  He huffed. “Packing, actually. Which is a bunch of bullshit.”

  “For what?”

  “Business trip,” he said in a harsh tone, his frustration loud and clear.

  “Want to tell me about it?” I asked. The heavy silence made me hesitate. “Or not,” I quickly said, and ran my hand through my hair.

  “Wish I could,” he murmured, “but my cases are generally confidential. Do you know what I wish for more, though?”

  “What?”

  “That I was next to you, tasting you, and inside you. I haven’t thought of anything else since I left your room this morning.”

  A delicious shiver rolled down my spine at his words…along with the mere thought of him doing what he suggested.

  My thighs pressed together and I shifted in the bed.

  “Wow,” I said, breathing out the word.

  His chuckle vibrated through the line. “Sounds like you want that.”

  I did. So much. I hummed my agreement—he’d left me speechless with just a thought. What would happen when he made good on that promise?

  “How about I call you when I get back into town?”

  “Sounds good,” I murmured, still thinking of how good it felt the other night when we were together in a way that was delicious…just not enough.

  “Sleep well, Blue,” he whispered.

  “Night, Tyson.”

  I hung up the phone and slid under the covers. Then I fell asleep with a dreamy smile on my face and the memories of a boy who I used to love, and th
e man he’d become.

  Chapter 9

  The week slowly trudged by and I found myself falling into a mundane rhythm of waking up, getting dressed, heading to my parents’ house where I spent the day in the kitchen with Clarissa, and distractedly searching for jobs but barely finding anything I could apply for.

  Throughout, I knew I was distracting myself from sending texts to Tyson or reaching out to call him. I didn’t. He had made it clear he was going out of town for work.

  But unfortunately, I continued to be contacted by a man I was having a hard time ignoring. Flowers arrived at my hotel on Tuesday, courtesy of Malik. On Wednesday, he called to see if I would be his date to some sort of political fundraiser he was attending a week from Saturday.

  Seeing as how my father had already told me about it and my presence was expected, I simply told Malik that I planned to attend but would be accompanying my father since my mother was unable to this year. Malik either didn’t catch on to my complete lack of interest in him, or he simply didn’t care. Perhaps he figured my opinions didn’t matter that much, and upon further reflection, that didn’t bother me at all.

  Every interaction with Malik made me want to tell him, my father, and my mother to shove their matchmaking down their throats. Instead, I chose to wait until I could see Malik in person. He deserved that respect, even though none was being given to me.

  I was also simply missing Tyson.

  “I spoke to DPA this morning, Gabriella.”

  My father’s voice snapped me back to the present, where I was sitting in my family’s kitchen helping Clarissa prepare the afternoon luncheon for two of his business associates. I didn’t know who was coming, but I was hoping it wasn’t Malik.

  I might not have been interested in him, but I also didn’t want him to see me with flour in my unwashed hair.

  “Detroit Premier Agency?” I asked, my eyes instantly widening. It was the crème de la crème of event planning agencies. It was a small company, run mostly by the owner, Simone Pillar, and had the most exclusive client list in Detroit. My mother used them frequently. Because of its notoriety, I hadn’t even tried to apply for a job there. It was out of my league, and I was too inexperienced to do anything other than work in their mailroom. “Why?”

  My father walked toward me. Disappointment flared in his narrowed eyes as he took in my messy face, hair, and casual, comfortable clothing.

  He blinked, wiping away the disappointment. “Simone is hiring a new assistant, at least temporarily.”

  My jaw dropped. “And?”

  He had the audacity to roll his eyes, as if my impatience annoyed him. My blood began to boil. “Because you’re my daughter and for some inexplicable reason you seem to think you want some sort of career, I gave her your name. Working with Simone would give you the experience you want, and then you can stop this foolishness.”

  My teeth ground together so hard I feared my molars would crack. Shaking my head and looking away, I pulled in a deep breath. “I want a career because I want to work for a living.”

  I stopped. He would never understand, and any more time spent discussing what I actually wanted with him was wasted breath. “And I want to find something on my own, but thank you for mentioning it.”

  His eyes cut to mine and narrowed. “Our name opens doors. You should consider using it for your benefit every once in a while.”

  In Colorado, I had paperwork, illegal, I knew, that named me as Ella Cochran. At least Cochran wasn’t made up; it’s my mother’s maiden name. It also allowed me to stay hidden, and for a brief moment when returning to Detroit, I’d wondered if I should use it when looking for jobs. The fact that I didn’t want to be hidden anymore was one of the reasons that prevented me from doing so. My father’s reminder was the other.

  Next to me, I felt Clarissa shift closer. Sensing her silent support boosted my confidence.

  “I will earn whatever position I’m given…sir,” I bit out at the last moment. I might have been confident, but I wasn’t a complete idiot.

  He slid a business card with a time scratched in black pen onto the countertop, all while his irritation remained clear in the tight lines around his lips. “Just see her. The job could be a gift to you or a favor to me, depending on how you look at it, but perhaps you’ll earn the spot if you’re good enough.”

  The backhanded compliment stung on my cheek like a well-aimed slap. He spun on his heels and left the room as quietly as he arrived, leaving me fuming.

  “Damn him.” I slapped my hands on the countertop. Flour from the pie crusts we’d been making wafted into the air, and I sneezed as it hit my nose.

  “He cares, bella. He just doesn’t know how to show it correctly.”

  Did he? I was beginning to wonder. As a teenager, I could write off his attitude as a reaction to my teenage angst. But the more I was around him now, the more I was beginning to believe the man simply didn’t have a soul.

  “Not keeping me away from my family would have been a start, or I don’t know…not shoving a man in front of me when I don’t want him…or I don’t know, not belittling my desire to have a simple freaking job.” I huffed and then wiped a hand across my forehead.

  He didn’t care about me, only about what I could do for him when it suited him.

  Reality was a bitter pill to swallow, and I felt tears sting my nose. All my life, I had tried to please him and make him proud of me. All my life I’d been groomed to be the kind of woman who would stand on the arm of a man like Malik and smile, all while hiding secrets of deals I never wanted to know about. Monday night I had seen a small glimpse into that world as an adult and it proved to me exactly what I’d known for years.

  I wasn’t like them.

  I didn’t want to be like them.

  “I do not agree with him,” Clarissa whispered, resting her hand on my shoulder. I reached up and covered her hand with mine, giving her a gentle squeeze. Her touch and quiet words calmed me slightly. “But do not forget that he, too, is under much stress right now. He cares, someday you will see.”

  I swallowed tears that wanted to form, refusing to show emotion.

  “Are we done with the blueberry filling?” I asked, changing the subject.

  Clarissa gave me that play, squeezing my shoulder once more before turning toward the stove. While we finished the pies, we discussed the weather, fashion, and the gardens out back that were blooming beautifully. I listened while she instructed me on how to make her homemade marinara sauce, only laughing when she still refused to share her “secret magic herbs” that were, no joke, in a spice jar with that exact label printed on it and nothing else.

  We were just removing the finished pies from the oven and cleaning the kitchen tables when the doorbell rang, announcing that my father’s associates had arrived. I took a quick scan of my body and saw I was essentially ghostly pale thanks to my inability to stay clean while baking—or cooking—and cringed. I debated hiding from whomever may be arriving when I heard footsteps headed in our direction. Then they stopped.

  “Gabriella?” the familiar, masculine voice asked.

  I blushed ten shades of pink before I turned to face Malik.

  “Hello,” I lifted my hand in a limp wave. If the flour could have swallowed me whole, I would have been thrilled. I watched as his eyes dipped and scanned my body. His lips twitched, fighting a smile, but it broke through when he met my timid and embarrassed gaze.

  “You’re a wreck,” he stated simply. It lacked the reproof my father’s voice would have had, and I smiled despite myself.

  “I’m not very good at staying clean.” I blushed further at the innuendo.

  Behind me, I heard Clarissa’s soft chuckle, and I looked away from him. I could hear him approach, though, and I stiffened when his hand rested on my hip.

  Perhaps I should have made a sign announcing my desire for personal space. He clearly had no issue stepping over appropriate boundaries. “It’s good to see you, Gabriella,” he murmured and then brushed his li
ps against my cheekbone. “I’ve thought about you.”

  I swallowed thickly, unable to respond. Mostly because there was no polite response, none that would also be truthful, I could offer him.

  Licking my lips, I turned toward him, forcing him to drop his hand from my hip. “I didn’t expect you here today.”

  “It was a last minute decision. Something has come up that your father thinks I should be made aware of.” He glanced at his watch and back to me. “I should get to his office, I just wanted to see you first. But I’ll still see you next Saturday, correct?”

  “Mmhmm,” I muttered when his hand reached out and brushed against mine on the counter. He didn’t hold it, just ran his fingertips down the back of my hand before he stepped back.

  The man was magnetic and attractive. He also knew how to turn a woman on, which was obvious by the pulsing I experienced in places I would rather have not in front of him. It couldn’t be helped, though. Yet beyond that, I felt nothing for him but physical appreciation.

  “Saturday,” he said, nodding in my direction as he approached the doorway.

  “Saturday,” I repeated, and watched him disappear around the corner.

  “Well, now that is a man who knows how to please a woman,” Clarissa said, her voice full of mirth.

  I couldn’t deny her words, I simply didn’t want to be the one he wanted to please. “I’m not interested. Not really.”

  “I know, my dear. But perhaps before you let him know that, you can get some of what he’s good at first.”

  “Clarissa!” I cried, laughing at the same time. She was a scandalous old woman and I absolutely loved her for it.

  “What?” She shrugged. “It is the twenty-first century. Women in my day couldn’t say that, much less enjoy the thought of it, but if you want your freedom so badly…go for it.”

  I didn’t entertain the thought longer, even though I couldn’t stop laughing at the crazy woman. Shaking my head, I wiped my hands clean on a towel. “That would only send mixed signals and who knows, if I were to enjoy…as you might say,” she flashed me a wink and I laughed again, “my father would pull out some archaic rule that says then we must marry, or something similar.”