“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped out, pushing up inside me, my back still against the wall as he held my eyes with his, both of us as connected as two people could be.
“Fuck me,” I breathed out, leaning forward to kiss him.
“God, I love you,” he mumbled against my mouth, our eyes open gazing into each other’s which was somehow so erotic and sensual that I felt the stirrings of another climax coming on.
Moving away from the wall, he turned and lay me on the bed, staying inside me the whole time. His thrusts then became measured, deliberate, and as he brushed the hair off my forehead that’d stuck there from my perspiration, he pressed his lips against mine kissing me softly. Moving a hand down between us, his fingers worked their magic making me come again in no time, but I kept my eyes on him, watching as he climaxed, the striations in his shoulder muscles bulging, teeth clenching and neck muscles straining and thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“I have to go to Chicago tomorrow,” I told Beck the next day at lunch.
My boss had called that morning and said the company I’d put on hold there needed me for the rest of the week and possibly the next Monday and Tuesday. I had to go because I’d already put them off for Fleishman.
We sat in the boardroom eating and I saw him frown. “I’ve got some vacation time if you want me to come with you.”
“I’ll be busy the whole time and won’t really be able to do anything,” I replied.
I knew it was bad but when Mr. Ruiz had called I’d felt relieved to be leaving and I hadn’t known how to feel about it so I’d called Jaden.
“What’s up, bestie?” she’d answered.
“I’m kinda freaking out.”
“Is the bad guy a murderer too?” she squealed.
Good God.
“No! Listen, Mr. Ruiz called a few minutes ago and said I need to go to that job in Chicago.”
“Okay.”
“And I was kind of happy to be leaving.”
She was quiet for a moment before asking, “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know! You’re supposed to tell me!”
“Are you wanting to get away from Beck?” she asked carefully.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Isn’t it working out?”
“No, it is. It’s been great. It’s just that, well, this is gonna sound weird and all, but I think I got used to being alone and I kinda miss me time, I guess.”
“But you love him?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re in love with him?”
“Yes.”
“But you want some time on your own? Right?”
“Yes!” I repeated.
She chuckled. “You’re fine, B. Everyone needs a break now and then.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding as I’d waited for her to tell me I was a terrible person. “So just because I want some alone time, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be turning into the next Condoleezza Rice, right?”
“I don’t know. There’s still time.”
“Shut it,” I said with a giggle. “So, again, just wanting to make sure, you don’t think it’s bad that I want to get away for a bit?”
“Nope. It’s perfectly normal. Hey, remember when I went to see my Aunt Liesl right before Christmas?”
“Yes.”
“That was an, ‘I’ve gotta get away’ trip.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Sweetie, you didn’t need that crap to worry about. But Evan and I had gotten into a huge fight, so I needed a break. But it’s all good now.”
I’d frowned. Jaden and Evan rarely fought. “What was it about?”
“It’s really dumb.”
“Tell me.”
I heard her sigh. “I had a dream he cheated on me with Leslie Mann. You know how he thinks she’s hot. Hell, I think she’s hot. So when I woke up, I instantly punched him in the arm and told him he was a jerk. That’s how our day started. Nice, huh? Anyway, he asked why I hit him and I told him about my dream. And you wanna know what he asked? He asked if they were doing it doggy style because, and I quote, ‘that would be awesome.’”
“Oh, no.”
“Yeah! So I yelled at him telling him he was a cheating asshole. Then he yelled back saying I was a fucking lunatic and it just escalated from there.”
“There was escalation from that?”
“I didn’t talk to him for three days and on the fourth, he apologized. Then promptly asked if I’d done the laundry yet. That started another argument so I was sick of it and ended up going to Aunt Liesl’s for a week until he called, begging me to come back. And we’ve been good ever since, after promising not to get mad about stupid dreams anymore.”
“I’m glad you guys are good. I love you both and would hate to have to choose who to be friends with if you broke up,” I said with a snort knowing I’d get a rise out of her.
“Uh, that’s not even funny, Bernadette.”
I laughed. “You know I’d always pick you.”
“Damn straight!”
“Anyway, so just to be clear, you don’t think I’m being weird by wanting some alone time?”
“No, not at all. Go to the Windy City and relax, well, as much as you can after working all day.”
“God, I feel so much better. Love you. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Love you too. Bye!”
Jaden had made me feel better but when I’d told Beck, I’d felt bad again.
“We can fly out together,” he’d suggested excitedly which broke my heart because I didn’t want to hurt him, but I also didn’t want to keep anything from him. “My parents are in South Bend, Indiana, so I can rent a car and drive to visit them. It’s only like an hour and a half from Chicago.”
“We can always tell each other the truth, right? Isn’t that the kind of relationship we want?” I asked. At his nod, I proceeded. “I’m going to say something that’s probably going to hurt your feelings, but I in no way mean for it to. And I want you to know first and foremost that I love you, okay?”
He was catching on to what I was going to say and narrowing his eyes, told me, “If you don’t want me to go, that’s all you have to say, Birdie.”
I sighed. “But I want to explain why so you know it has nothing to do with you.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked at me indifferently, waiting for me to go on.
“You have to understand that I was alone for two years. Two years. I came and went as I pleased and the only people I was somewhat accountable to were my parents and Jaden. And now that you’ve come back into my life, my not having as much alone time as before is just taking some getting used to.”
He acted like he was picking a piece of lint off his slacks and I hated that I was hurting him. God.
“I’m saying I just need a little time to myself. Does that make sense?” I finally asked.
He nodded looking past me as if I weren’t there.
Wow. He was kind of behaving like a big baby.
He stood up and glared down at me. “I’m behaving like a big baby?”
Oh, shit. I’d said that out loud. Eek!
“I didn’t know that listening to what you were saying then pondering over it made me a big fucking baby!” He raised his voice at the end and “baby” came out pretty loud.
Glancing nervously out into the cubicle area I saw a few people look our way, including Black Glasses Dude, of course.
I stood, and putting my hands against his chest to keep him from leaving, I said, “I’m sorry. But you were being so quiet, I thought you were pouting. Please say you understand that I need this time. And that you won’t hold it against me.”
“We’ll just talk about it when you get back,” he said and left the boardroom.
I watched him go into his office, then come out wearing his coat and he left. I didn’t see him for the rest of the day.
Joel came by at a quarter to four asking me to acc
ompany him to the tenth floor, that Mr. Fleishman had called an impromptu meeting for an assessment of my latest findings. I quickly gathered some notes, and after Joel shared that he’d reported the false 1099s to the IRS and that they were working out a plan to make amends, it was my turn.
“A great deal of overcharging appears in the expense report over a four-year period—around fifty-thousand dollars’ worth—and I think the company may just have to bite the bullet on it,” I explained sadly stating that there was no way to recover the missing funds because no one had a clue where they’d gone.
“And the ghost employees?” Mr. Fleishman questioned.
“Direct deposit on five of the accounts has been halted, and the company’s attorneys are employing the proper channels for investigating the bank accounts and post office addresses,” I explained.
“And you’ll be leaving us for several days?” he asked.
“Yes. McNamara already accepted the job in Chicago before I came here, so I need to get out there to help them out.”
We spent the next hour talking about who had access to payroll and could’ve created the ghost employees. I said it was usually someone in payroll who was the guilty party, but that anyone could’ve stolen login information to enter the false data or even someone who was computer savvy enough to hack into the system could do it and the company would be none the wiser. I again explained that if it was someone from one of the other three branches, it would take more time for me to find them.
Joel stayed to talk with Mr. Fleishman so I took the elevator down to the seventh floor where I immediately saw the light off in Beck’s office which made me sad. I thought about texting him, but thought he’d probably had enough of me for the day.
Just as I reached the boardroom door, Linda came around the corner. “Oh, hi, Birdie,” she said following me inside.
“Hey, Linda. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. I’ve got a question for you. My daughter’s driving to Maryland for the weekend, she’s about your age, and I’m a little leery of her going alone. I thought I’d ask what you took when you traveled alone?”
I grabbed my purse to show her my keys. “I carry a small container of pepper spray on my keychain.” I dug around but couldn’t find my keys. I set my purse down and went to my coat, looking through the pockets but got nothing. “Huh. I’ve seemed to have misplaced my keys. But, yeah, I’d have her at least carry something like that.”
“Great. I’ll check into it. Thanks so much. I hope you find your keys,” she said as I followed her out.
“Me too,” I mumbled as I headed to the elevator to see if I might’ve taken them with me for whatever reason up to the tenth floor. But when I got there, neither Joel nor Mr. Fleishman had seen them.
I took the lift back down and went to look in my purse again when I saw my keys on the floor underneath the table. Strange. I picked them up then looked out into the cubicle area, but no one was glancing my way including Black Glasses Dude which was a shock.
I put my keys back inside my purse then changing my mind, decided to text Beck.
Text Message—Tues, Jan 11, 4:58 p.m.
Me: I’m sorry about everything. What I said was rude and I apologize. I love you. Please don’t be mad.
He never replied.
Chapter 22—Beck
After I got home, I called Paul but when he didn’t answer, I assumed he was working. I next called Mike Monroe who I occasionally played pickup basketball with, who answered on the first ring.
“What’s up, Beck?”
“Hey, Mike. Anything going on tonight?”
Mike was twenty-nine and single but he’d dated some absolutely stunning women. At a party, I’d once asked him why he hadn’t settled down yet, and he’d drunkenly explained his “Thirty-five Plan,” which amounted to things he had to accomplish before turning thirty-five. First, he had to be at least a six-digit millionaire, which, as a hedge fund manager, he was well on his way, secondly, he’d outlined his idea of the perfect woman to me who sounded more like a robot maid, but to each his own, and lastly, he had to be running for Congress and “Winning all the votes.” I’d laughed but honestly, I felt like he would achieve all three goals. Mike also knew everything that went on in NYC, which was my reason for the call.
“Hell yes! Now, stick with me here, okay?”
Fuck. What was I potentially getting mixed up in?
“There’s a fashion show tonight.” I let out a groan. “I told you to stick with me, dude!”
“All right. Tell me about this fashion show,” I conceded, getting out the scotch and pouring myself a glass.
“Again, stay with me for a minute. So this fashion show is made up of Victoria’s Secrets model rejects which sounds funny as fuck but these chicks, Jesus Christ. They’re smokin’ hot, Beck. Perfect bodies: huge tits, long legs, tight asses. And the best part about it? Are you ready for this? They put on a runway show in tiny lingerie, right? All the stuck-up New York elite make their appearance to get on page six and all that bullshit. They leave by ten then all fucking hell breaks loose. There’s another raunchier show. And I’m telling you, these chicks are dying for fame and they’ll do just about anything to get it. And I mean anything, brother. So, you in?”
Hell, I might as well. Birdie wasn’t an option tonight since she needed her fucking alone time. “Sure,” I answered, finishing off my scotch.
“I’ll have a limo pick your ass up.”
“New address, man. And I’m getting a divorce.”
He let out a loud laugh and said, “That’s my man! Fuck marriage right now! Gimme your addy and the limo will be there promptly at ten to pick you up.”
The limo arrived on time and upon getting in, I saw a buffet of various high-dollar liquors ripe for the taking. I poured myself a tumbler of Dalmore Quintessence, this particular blend probably cost just under a grand, then I sat back, relaxed and sipped on the most expensive—and fucking delicious—whiskey I’d ever had.
Thirty minutes later the driver stopped, got out and opened my door at the 69th Regiment Armory, or the 69th as it was called, a damned famous landmark in New York City history. But most notable as of late, it’d been the location of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. And now it was hosting it’s less famous, naughty little sister’s fashion show, Mike’s words, not mine. Anyway, I noticed some of the more well-known jetsetters around town leaving as I approached the entrance. Mike was right. He was always right.
Once inside I saw the place was packed, but Mike had told me where he’d be, so I made my way to his table.
“Beck!” he said as he stood, giving me a guy hug. “It’s been too long!”
“Yeah, it has,” I replied as we sat at his table that edged the runway.
“What’re you drinking?” he called over the noise.
“I liked that fucking Dalmore you had in the limo,” I answered with a laugh.
“It’s yours!” he promised, then some dude who looked like he might’ve been Mike’s personal assistant or butler or manservant or whatever title he went by, came right over due to some signal Mike had made that I didn’t catch, and not two minutes later, the guy set a couple tumblers and a fucking bottle of the Dalmore in front of me.
Yeah, I wanted to be Mike when I grew up. Jesus.
Several of the guys who played in our pickup games started showing up and soon our table was full, and pretty damned rowdy. I was having a fucking great time when the lights and music suddenly changed and someone announced that the show was beginning. Looking around, I saw a few women in the audience and wondered if they were from modeling agencies.
Then the show started and holy fucking hell. Mike had not lied. These women were unbelievably beautiful and their bodies were amazing. All I could do was stare as they made their way down the runway, each more gorgeous than the first. There were so many camera flashes, I wondered how the fuck they could even see where they were going but they somehow managed to make it gracefully down the runway and
back.
“Fuck!” Noah Oaks yelled from where he sat next to me. He was a cardiac surgeon and had given me a lot of advice when Sonya had been in the hospital. He was also one of our post players, and at 6’8” he was hard to miss just sitting there, but when he stood and went to the stage, taking the hand of one of the models who smiled shyly at him and helping her walk down the steps, he was a sight to behold. I don’t know where they disappeared off to, but I was sure it probably wasn’t back at his country estate where his wife and four kids were.
I noticed a lot of men doing that then, going to the stage and leading the models away, and realized that this was nothing but a fucking escort service that, according to Mike, came to town once a year.
When the show ended, I laughed seeing Mike surrounded by several of the girls, all vying for his attention. Apparently, he was well-known here and had probably helped launch many a modeling career, or at least that’s what I figured. Mike was a good-looking guy, but I couldn’t be convinced that these chicks were swarming him for any other reason than his money.
“Well, hello, handsome,” I heard from my left and looked over to see perfect thighs and a taut abdomen staring me in the face. Looking up, and just past a pair of flawless tits encased in a shiny violet bra, I saw a Margot Robbie clone smiling down at me. Holy fuck.
“Hi,” I answered. “Would you like to sit?” I asked, standing and pulling out a chair for her. When I sat, I grabbed a tumbler and poured her a drink handing it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked, sniffing at it.
“That right there,” I nodded at the probably two fingers of whiskey I’d poured for her, “is about a hundred bucks.”
She looked at me skeptically then took a sip, scrunching up her face at the taste.
“Not a big whiskey drinker, huh?” I commented.
“No. I don’t drink a lot.” She shrugged. “Mostly just water.” Holding her hand out to me, she announced, “I’m Blair.”
“Beck,” I said, taking her hand and giving it a shake.
“I like the name, Beck,” she said with a cute giggle.
Mondays (The Wait Book 2) Page 10
