Forever My Lady: Steamy Older Man Younger Woman First Time Romance

by Mia Madison

  Forever My Lady

  Mia Madison

  Contents

  1. Valencia

  2. Valencia

  3. Gio

  4. Valencia

  5. Gio

  6. Valencia

  7. Valencia

  8. Gio

  9. Valencia

  10. Gio

  11. Valencia

  12. Gio

  13. Valencia

  14. Valencia

  15. Gio

  16. Valencia

  17. Gio

  18. Valencia

  19. Valencia

  20. Gio

  21. Valencia

  22. Gio

  23. Valencia

  24. Gio

  25. Valencia

  26. Gio

  27. Valencia

  28. Valencia

  Epilogue - One Year Later

  About the Author

  Also by Mia Madison

  1

  Valencia

  Ezekiel Elliott was on one knee, telling me I was the most beautiful girl in the world. He smiled and the rest of the Dallas Cowboys cheered when I accepted his proposal. This was the day I’d been waiting for.

  He stood and pulled me closer for a kiss. Right as our lips touched, a train blared in our direction.

  Beeeeeeep. Beeeeeeep. Beeeeeeep.

  Leave it to my alarm to mess everything up. I rolled onto my stomach and groaned. It was 6:30 AM on Monday morning. I pressed the stop button on my iPhone, and then unlocked it to check my messages.

  They say we weren’t as addicted to technology even ten years ago. That you had to get up and leave your bed in order to check your email.

  I say: Thank God times have changed.

  Facebook, as usual, was dry. All the good action was on Instagram and Snapchat.

  I scrolled through videos of friends out having fun. Many were watching football and basketball games at sports bars, or posting more outtakes from fight night.

  I simply uploaded a meme. It was a picture of a cat, eyes rolled back, saying “Blame it on the Weekend.”

  My email was full of submission confirmations. I was a recent college graduate of Texas Southern University, also known as TSU. My major was accounting, something I figured would help me land a nice job with a generous salary. I mean, who doesn’t need a numbers expert in their office?

  Unfortunately, all of my interviews haven’t gone well. Employers expected you to have 2-5 years of experience, something hard to come by, in order to pay you something worth getting out of bed for.

  Rent wasn’t horrible, but I couldn’t pay rent without work, and my savings were dwindling quick. As if that weren’t enough, my landlord planned to raise the rent when my lease ended next month.

  Getting another job was not an option. I just had no idea when I would land one that could at least afford me the luxury of buying Ramen after my expenses and loans were paid.

  2

  Valencia

  “Ms. Valenti?”

  “Yes.” I stood, nodding in affirmation to my name.

  I was at Houston Financials, a prestigious accounting firm located in downtown Houston. The interview was last minute on Friday. I’d received the invitation via email after my best friend, Erika, referred me for the position. She’d done an internship there, worked part time, and offered a transition to full time when she graduated this semester.

  “Hello, I’m Nicole.” The woman extended her hand, as well as that pseudo-friendly smile interviewers are known to have. The first thing I noticed were her lips. They were outlined beyond her natural lip line, an attempt to mimic the Kylie Jenner look. The rest of her makeup was clean, but the lips were distracting.

  Nicole escorted me to her office, told me to sit, and closed the door. She shuffled through papers, telling me she apologized, that things had been busy, and “stuff was everywhere.” After about thirty seconds, she had clearly given up. She pushed the papers to the side, clicked on her desktop, and crossed her legs.

  “Tell me about yourself?” She attached a clinical smile to her expression.

  “Well I’m 22 years old, originally from Dallas, but came here for TSU. I graduated with a finance degree, and I’m seeking an opportunity to use my skills with a company that values growth, precision, and loyalty.”

  “I see…” Nicole smiled. “What interested you in finance?”

  “I find numbers fascinating. They operate with clarity, and numbers don’t lie,” I said. “When you look at the numbers of a company long enough, they begin to tell a story, and that story can help you figure out where the company is going, and what opportunities and weaknesses lie ahead.”

  I smiled, my genuine show of interest.

  “Hm.”

  I didn’t like the tone of that remark.

  Keep smiling. Stay poised.

  “This company is one of local prestige. Houston Financials deals with clients whose accounts amass a minimum of $1.5 million. We deal with nothing less. Tell me about your experience.”

  My pause one of thoughtful reflection. She wasted no time getting to the tough questions. I couldn’t play with her. Not that I would play with one of the most prestigious financial firms Houston had to offer. The salaries here according to Glassdoor were insane. Even entry level employees made generous amounts.

  “My father’s firm manages sizable contracts. During summer and holiday breaks, I would perform backup accounting and maintenance to make sure the books were in order. Sometimes I’d find an error and correct it.”

  “I once helped us correct an error that saved nearly $300,000,” I added. My chest poked out slightly. I was very proud of that accomplishment.

  “Cute. Tell me three attributes that positively describe you, and tell me when one of those attributes were called into question?”

  Her tone was biting. My jaw tensed at her iciness. I was providing proper answers, giving great energy, polite as fuck.

  What the hell was her problem?

  I remember steadying myself by staring at the expensive nameplate on her desk, smiling, and responding as neutrally as possible.

  I don’t even remember specific answers I provided, because I was completely over the situation. I just wanted to wrap things up and leave.

  Nicole had changed from heels to turquoise Tory Burch slides by the end of the interview. Her fake-happy attitude returned. She attempted to warm up her chilly demeanor with banal small talk, asking me about my plans for the weekend. The elevator door opened before I can answer, allowing me to provide a clipped, “Thank you.”

  My cheeks burned and my ears stung. I could tell she had triggered every negative feeling I had inside me.

  Bitch…

  Erika and I met in the lobby afterwards. It was 12, her lunch hour, giving her time to catch up with me before heading to class.

  “How did it go?”

  I groaned, and rolled my eyes.

  “What happened?” She grabbed my hand. “We’ll take my car. Swamp Monster time!”

  We were supposed to celebrate, but I wasn’t in the mood anymore. I’d have the Swamp Monster, but I’d probably go by the Daiquiri Shack and drink myself under the table from the comforts of my bed.

  I waited until we pulled out of the parking lot before I exhaled. “She’s a bitch! A raging bitch!”

  “Whoa,” Erika asked. “What happened?”

  I filled her in on the experience. The entire interview was a mental fistfight from beginning to end. There was nothing I could do to get on her good side.

  “Her questions were crazy and abrasive. The more I s
at there, the more she abused my spirit,” I continued.

  “What kind of questions did she ask?” Erika’s voice filled with concern.

  “How do you deal with negative coworkers? …Tell me about a major mistake you’ve made with accounting.What are your weaknesses?”

  “The hell?!”

  “Oh, I would be remiss if I forgot that she asked, ‘What qualifies you to be a part of this organization?’ and then told me to give her three positive attributes and tell me about a time they were called into question.”

  Erika’s horror was apparent when I rattled off the questions, my answers, and her demeanor.

  “Did she give you a tour of the building, or at least the office?”

  “No.” My tone was flat, and I thanked God I’d done my yoga that morning. Deep breaths in, slow exhales out.

  “She told me she had a few more interviews before a decision was made,” I said. “I wanted to throw that damn nameplate at her head and run out.”

  “I would have. You wouldn’t have had anything to lose at that point.”

  “Well, you need your job,” I reasoned. “She’s just another bullshit HR person with a wet clit for torture.”

  I wasn’t usually this sensitive. Rejection was a part of life. But she deliberately threw me off my game, deliberately attacked me - and then expected me to speak to her about my weekend plans?

  I needed a job. Not a friend. Not a devil wearing Tory Burch slippers and looking down on me for not having experience aside of my father’s business.

  3

  Gio

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Has mommy called? I want her to come to my recital.”

  My daughter looked at me, her eyes full of hope and curiosity. Her mother left us high and dry earlier this year, citing a need to “go find” herself - after ten years of marriage, and a 7 year old child were brought into this world.

  Life hasn’t been the same since she left, but I learned to adjust. I wasn’t in the habit of forcing anyone to stay where they didn’t want to be, but it was tough trying to explain the loss to my daughter, our daughter, who couldn’t understand why “Mommy doesn’t love me.”

  I held her hand as I walked her into school. We got to the front door of her classroom when I squatted down to give her a hug.

  Riley was precious. Caramel brown eyes, black hair with lots of curls, and the most adorable dimples I’d ever seen in my life.

  She looked just like her mother, dimples and all. The only thing she had from me were eyebrows and hair color. Her mother’s hair was blonde.

  “Mommy hasn’t called, sweetheart. But I promise, I will call her today and tell her she needs to come.” I will try my damnedest, I silently promise.

  “I love you daddy. Have a good day at work, okay?” She hugged me hard, warming my heart in spite of my mood.

  I wasn’t a morning person. Especially when my morning involved calling my ex to remind her of her responsibility to our child.

  “I love you too, princess.” I rubbed my fingers through her hair, arranged half up to let the curls cascade over her shoulders. “Be good okay? Daddy will buy pizza tonight if you are.”

  “Yay!” She squealed in delight. “I have the best daddy in the whole wide world!”

  She ran to her teacher, a cute woman by the name if Mrs. Branch, and pointed at me. “Daddy’s buying me pizza today!”

  Mrs. Branch and I shared a smile. I waved, winked, and said goodbye to my little girl.

  She ran inside, ready for her day.

  I, on the other hand, was anything but.

  4

  Valencia

  Faithful to my mood, Erika and I pushed ourselves through my cranky mood at Pappadeaux before going our separate ways.

  I decided to stop at the Daiquiri Shack on the way home. I was halfway through a gigantic Thug Passion and watching Orange is the New Black on Netflix when the phone rang.

  I didn’t bother lifting to see who it was, simply to silence it.

  Leave me alone, cruel world. Let me suck on some Thug Passion in my panties and sip my way into a coma for the rest of the day.

  The Universe clearly didn’t listen to me, because the show was interrupted with a FaceTime request. It was Dad. Even if I wanted to be alone, I couldn’t ignore a request from my dad.

  I clicked the accept button, and pulled the sheets up to my chin.

  “Hey Dad.”

  “Hey darlin’. How’d the interview go?”

  I groaned and pulled the sheets over my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I could hear him chuckle. He was a gentle-natured man, and very perceptive. My frustration needn’t be clarified.

  I explained what happened, spoke of the questions she asked, and added how weirdly things ended.

  “I doubt I’ll hear from them.”

  “Any other options?” He asked.

  Shaking my head, I explained that I thought this was it. Because of that, I hadn’t applied to anything in a while, nor had I heard from anyone else that I hadn’t already interviewed at.

  “It seems like they want me to be fresh out of college with tons of experience. I don’t know what that’s about.”

  “You know how the economy is. Everyone’s qualified, and they want you to jump through hoops for their approval.” He grunted thoughtfully. “That’s why I started my own business out of the military.”

  Dad’s owned his real estate firm since I was eight years old. He retired from the military at that time, only 38, after twenty years of service. At 52, he wasn’t a spring chicken, but he was young at heart, and living the life he worked hard to attain.

  “Daddy, I know, but I can’t just start a new business fresh out of college,” I whined. “I have to pay my bills now.”

  “Valencia, you know you can always come work at the firm. We’re very busy, and there’s a lot you can do.”

  “I know, but I want to be independent,” I asserted. “

  “I understand, sweetheart,” he said, gently. “But this is the real world. We all need family to make things happen sometimes. You’d stilll be independent. You’d just earn your living with the family business.”

  “A business that’s grossing close to $25 million this year, might I add.”

  5

  Gio

  “Speaking of,” Vittorio interrupted. “When is the lease up?”

  He leaned forward at his desk, waiting for his daughter to answer. “Next month. Why?”

  “If you don’t have a job by then, you’ll need to come up here.” He lifted his nose, something he always did when he wanted to assert himself. “I will not have you struggling hours away from me.”

  You could hear his daughter sigh through the screen from across the room. She wanted to counter her father, but I smirked, because anyone who knew Vittorio Valenti knew there was no winning the argument.

  “You want me to live at home again?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  Vittorio and I owned a nice mixed-use property downtown. Street level units were for commercial application. There were several storefronts, including a yoga studio and Chinese restaurant. Every level above was filled with rental properties. At the head of the building was a corporate office, which we worked out of, and at the very top, Vittorio’s penthouse.

  I lived on a lower floor, in a humble two-bedroom. Well, at least it was humble in comparison to the other penthouse I owned in the building two blocks away from here.

  I came from humble middle class beginnings, and while I worked for the finer things in life, I wanted comfort and simplicity for Riley and I.

  I silently observed Vittorio’s exchange with his daughter, learning, every step of the way, how a man raises his daughter.

  I always learned from Vittorio, whether he realized it or not.

  Vittorio and I were in the same squadron on base when he discharged from the Air Force. I was an only child, and my father wasn’t part of the family.
Vittorio took me under his wing when I was new to the base, and became an older brother and best friend of mine.

  At the not-so-tender age of 45, I had finally retired from the military, but I landed squarely on my feet. Vittorio and I had been putting our extra funds into our business from before he’d even signed his honorable discharge papers.

  I had another eight years of financial stability in my contract to grow, plan, and learn while he managed the forefront of our affairs. We’d acquired our penthouses in celebration of both serving time and having our dreams realize.

  Anything I learned about pride, handwork, and manhood, Vittorio enhanced in our friendship. Now that fatherhood had shifted to my primary priority, I needed every tip I needed to be a strong man and father figure to my daughter.

  “Remember what I said, sweetheart,” Vittorio reminded Valencia. “You’ve got family. You’ve got options.”

  He ended the FaceTime call and turned to me.

  “Daughters.” His shrugged in humorous frustration and we laughed.

  “I take it she’s not interested in moving back home?”

  “She wants to ‘be an adult.’” Vit used his fingers to emphasize her words. Shaking his head, he continued. “I don’t get it. She’s been down there for four years. She’s graduated. She doesn’t feel as if she’s an adult enough?”

  “She’s a kid. She wants her freedom.”

  “She has freedom here.”

  “You’re going to let her have a boyfriend in the penthouse?”

  Vit’s lips flattened. The thin line and silence registered his contemplation. I gave him a knowing look. He was highly protective of her, as well as his privacy.

  “You and I both know there’s no way in hell she’ll have ‘freedom’ living under the same roof with you.”

  “Who said she has to live with me?”