by Lisa Suzanne
Raiders?
She’s a Raiders fan? I didn’t know those existed. I always thought that was some kind of unicorn.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my brows furrowing.
She shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.” She keeps walking but stumbles a little. I grab her and lace my arm around her waist before she trips as something unfamiliar filters through me: worry.
“Vivian, what’s going on?” I ask.
She squints up at me, and she’s more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her. “I took my sedatives a little too early I guess.”
“Sedatives?”
“Yeah,” she mutters. “I hate flying and I hate you, so the pills were meant to calm all that anxiety. I still can’t believe I’m going to one of the most romantic cities in the United States with you.” Her face twists with disgust as she admits truths she clearly wouldn’t say if she wasn’t high on sedatives.
I hate you.
Those three little words plow into me with the force of a tornado. It’s one short phrase that sticks in my brain, twists into my guts, and pushes a violent ache into my chest.
She hates me. She had to take drugs to calm herself since she has to sit on a flight beside me.
How many other women have I done this to—make them feel so shitty about themselves they had to get drugged up just to spend time with me? I let go of the fact that she also hates flying because in this moment, it doesn’t matter. I’m part of the equation, and I suddenly feel horrible for every mean thing I’ve ever said or done, for every lie I’ve ever told, for every heart I’ve ever stomped on.
But most of all, I feel horrible for the way I’ve treated her.
It’s like her words flip a switch in me. They shouldn’t hurt me—not if I hate her, too. But it’s in that moment I realize I don’t hate her. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Regardless of what those thoughts mean, she deserves to be treated better, and it’s time for me to step up and be a better man.
“Why are the hot ones always such jerks?” she mutters as we walk toward our gate, and I can’t help but think this is a Vivian I like. This is one I can get on board with. She’s funny, she’s candid, and she’s finally letting go of the professional demeanor she wears like a suit of armor.
I don’t answer as I hold onto her, her flowery scent winding its way into my nostrils. It’s some sort of calming scent, or it’s something about her being in this vulnerable position. She needs me to get her on that plane, and I’m the one who didn’t even want her here in the first place.
And it doesn’t escape my notice she called me one of the hot ones.
I let it go for now, but I’m sure those words will replay in my mind as many times as I hate you.
We find a couple open chairs when we get to our gate, and she closes her eyes and rests her head against my shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmurs, and then I’m pretty sure she falls asleep.
The flight starts boarding, but I let her sleep on my shoulder even when they call our row. I let her sleep all the way until the gate agent says, “Flight seven-sixty-two to Miami is now boarding all rows.”
I gently shake her arm, and she shifts with grogginess. “We need to get on the plane,” I say loudly, trying to wake her up.
“Mm,” she moans, and she leans back into my shoulder.
“Come on, Vivian, it’s time to board.” I shake her shoulder some more, and she reluctantly sits up and rubs her sleepy eyes. Make-up smears onto the skin beneath her lids, and it’s instinctual to reach up with my thumb to help wipe it away.
Her eyes focus on me, and I see a split second of horror before it smooths away thanks to the calming effect of whatever drug she took.
She finally stands, and I wrap my arm around her waist again to help her to the plane.
“Is she okay?” the gate agent asks as she scans our tickets.
I nod. “She was nervous about the flight,” I say, and the agent nods in understanding.
I help her onto the plane and direct her toward our seats, her in the middle and me on the aisle as I always request. Some stranger sits by the window and doesn’t even acknowledge us as we slide into our seats. Her head falls back to my shoulder, and I have to actually buckle the seatbelt around her waist. The back of my hand accidentally brushes against one of her breasts, and my dick hardens in response. I pull my hand away quickly like I just touched fire.
I didn’t touch fire, but I’m pretty sure this girl can still burn me straight down to the ground.
chapter seventeen
The flight is about four and a half hours, and she sleeps through the whole thing. I don’t move her from my shoulder, but I do manage to fish out my tablet to put the finishing touches on Friday’s presentation. I go through my slides and memorize the material, and then I work on a few contracts and review my notes for tomorrow’s meeting.
We’ve always hired Schneider Technologies in Germany as a third-party contractor who designs the model we’ve used with several of our clients, but I’m starting to wonder if we should cut Schneider out of the deal and move it in-house. We didn’t have the means to do that when we first started our company in Vegas because we didn’t know what we were doing, but now that we’re more established, I’m certain we could hire contractors that work for us rather than paying the astronomical fees associated with a third-party. I can’t help but think Viv would be proud of me for attempting to save some money, but I just don’t have enough time to check in with Jason and Beck and be sure we have someone lined up before our meeting with Porter. I do, however, think we could manage it for next year.
Before I know it, the wheels are touching down and we’re in Miami, apparently one of the most romantic cities in the United States. I’m afraid to wake her, afraid the nap she took on the plane will force the sedatives out of her system and I’ll have the old Viv back—or maybe afraid that won’t happen. Even though I like drugged up Viv, I need regular Viv to return to me. I need to see how she interacts with these new thoughts swimming through my brain as they turn into feelings starting their descent toward my chest.
“We’re here, Viv,” I say softly as I shake her shoulder. I’m pretty sure the dude by the window is itching to get out of our row, but we’re all stuck for the moment as we wait for the flight attendants to open the door.
She finally sits up. “Dang, those pills worked good this time,” she says. She’s much more lucid after her nearly five-hour nap, and I can’t help my chuckle at her use of dang. I realize for the first time I’ve never actually heard her use a curse word. She’s the consummate professional, so seeing her drugged up on sedatives has actually been sort of entertaining even though she slept through most of it.
“You didn’t move the entire flight,” I say.
“I tried a new kind,” she admits. “Plus I took two even though the directions only recommend one unless one doesn’t work.”
I laugh. “Maybe just one for the return flight.”
She nods and seems to retreat back into herself as she realizes she’s playing nice with me, and I feel a sudden sense of loss as the professional shield moves firmly back into place.
My new goal for this trip is to get her to lower it again.
We take a cab to the hotel rather than the chauffeured car I usually have Lauren arrange, and when we pull up in front of the hotel after we’ve only been traveling a few minutes, I discover why she offered to pay for our accommodations.
The Ritz is twelve miles from the airport—usually at thirty-minute drive. This couldn’t have been more than two miles.
The bright lights of the hotel that’s so budget friendly it doesn’t even have a brand name, it’s just called the Miami Airport Hotel, twinkle in front of me.
“You have got to be shitting me,” I say under my breath. “Is this a prank?”
She glances over at me with a raised brow and shakes her head. Maybe it’s all in my head, but her eyes seem to twinkle with excitement, and I think she’s starting to enjoy tormen
ting me—especially since she’s got me under her thumb after the whole NDA thing. “Don’t you love the red and green flashing lights? It’s like Christmas in the spring.”
“Christmas in the spring?”
“Sure,” she says with a grin. “It’s my favorite holiday. Isn’t it everyone’s?”
I heave out a heavy sigh. “This is silly. The Ritz is right on the beach and it’s a few blocks from Porter. We’re gonna end up paying the same in travel expenses to and from Porter as we’d pay just to stay on the beach.”
“That’s not exactly true. I price compared, and your hotel is about three times more expensive than staying here.”
I roll my eyes. Of course she price compared. Do I even know who I’m dealing with here?
No. The answer to that question is a firm and heartfelt no.
“Why are you enjoying this?” I ask after the cab driver pulls our bags from the trunk and we’re heading toward the reception counter.
Her grin widens. “I think I’m still a little drugged up.”
She gives the reservation number to the clerk.
“I have two nonsmoking rooms with a request for king beds,” the clerk says. She taps some keys.
“That’s right,” Viv says.
“Unfortunately we’re packed full this week with a textile convention in town and we only have double queen rooms left. Will that be okay?”
“It’ll do,” Viv says.
I huff out a frustrated breath. It has to do, I guess, but I’m not happy about it.
The clerk taps some more keys then hands us each a little booklet with our keys tucked inside and our room numbers written on the outside. I’m in one-twenty-seven, and she’s in two-thirty-two. We’re not even on the same floor, and that’s just fine by me.
I’m hungry, I’m tired, I’m confused, and I just want to get away from her. There’s a restaurant across from the lobby, and I decide that’s where I’ll be having my dinner. “Have the bellhop bring my luggage to my room,” I say to the clerk. “I’m going to get dinner.”
“Um, sir, this is the Miami Airport Hotel. We don’t have bell service.”
“Fucking figures,” I mutter, and then I grab my suitcase so I can haul it to my room as I leave Viv standing there by herself.
I let myself in my room and use the restroom. I’m looking at myself in the mirror as I wash my hands, lost in thought over what the hell I’m really feeling for Vivian. I shake the excess water from my hands and glance down to grab a towel when I spot it.
“What the fuck!?” I practically yell as my heart races and my eyes fall onto some sort of terrifying creature sitting right there on the towel.
And it’s not just any creature. It’s big and it’s ugly and I’m not sure if it’s a bug or a frog or some sort of mutant.
It’s fucking enormous and there’s no way in fuck I’m staying in this room.
My heart pounds in the way only a life-threatening predator could make it pound as I grab my bag with wet hands and haul my ass back to the front desk. Someone’s checking in, and I wait my turn like a good boy.
“There’s a giant bug in my room,” I hiss to the same clerk who checked us in once it’s finally my turn. It wasn’t just some little bug. It was a fucking mutant. I refrain from saying that to this clerk.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she says, and I can tell she’s trying to cover her laugh, but fuck her because she didn’t see it and didn’t just have the shit scared out of her by some alien insect when she just wanted to dry her damn hands. What if I’d have taken a shower in that room? I shudder at the thought. Housekeeping would’ve found my lifeless body, naked and wet in the shower the next morning. I’ve never seen a thing like that at the fucking Ritz, that’s for goddamn sure. “I’ll be happy to send someone down to take care of it.”
“I don’t want someone to take care of it,” I nearly yell. That fucking bug nearly gave me a heart attack. I draw in a calming breath. There’s no use in yelling at this lady. “Well, I do, but I also want a new room.”
“Of course.” She taps her keys and the light smell of roses attacks my senses. I glance up and find Viv beside me.
“Is everything okay?” she asks. She looks a little worried. “Are you switching rooms?”
I don’t embarrass easily, but telling her I found a bug in my room sounds totally ridiculous. I’m a man. I should’ve killed it myself.
But, fuck, it was huge, and it wasn’t just my imagination. That thing had to be hopped up on some radioactive fluids or something. Jesus Christ.
“He said there was a bug in his room,” the clerk says, and Viv clearly tries to hide a smirk. The clerk looks back up at me. “Unfortunately, we’re booked solid tonight.”
“You two can stop laughing now,” I say, embracing the situation. “You didn’t see it. I’d be happy to show both of you if you don’t believe me.”
Viv lets out a howl she clearly tried holding in, and the clerk makes some sort of snorting noise she doesn’t cover very well. “Screw both of you,” I say, and I stalk off back toward my room as I leave my bag at the front desk. I take a deep breath as I pause outside the door, and then I open the camera on my phone. I enter the room, run into the bathroom, and snap a photo of the thing now crawling along my sink, and then I run out of the room like a child. With a better view, I think it might just be a little frog, and I think I might’ve overreacted a little. My heart pounds again, but this time I take my time getting back to the front desk. Viv and the clerk are still laughing when I return.
I flash the photo to both of them. “Brian, it’s just a little frog,” Viv says, her eyes still twinkling with merriment.
“Oh my God,” the clerk breathes. “That’s a Marine toad.”
“A what?”
“A Marine toad. It’s poisonous.” She makes a face of disgust as she looks away from my screen. “Oh, God, what if there’s more?” She slaps at her own arms like there’s one hopping up her skin. “I feel like it’s on me. Is it on me?”
“It’s not on you,” I say, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. “But it was in my room. What are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll send an exterminator right in, but my guess is you won’t be able to stay there. We can give you a voucher for a return trip, but we’re out of rooms.”
I huff out an annoyed chuckle. “There are two things wrong with that statement. One, I won’t need your voucher for a return trip as I never plan to stay here again,” I say, glaring at the clerk. “And two, I need a fucking room.”
“Brian, calm down,” Viv says beside me. “Just stay with me. My room has two queens.”
I look down at her. She’s tall, but I’ve got an easy six or so inches on her. My eyes catch on hers, and I notice for the first time how long her lashes are. Thick and dark and lush. It’s a strange thing to notice, but it’s also very pretty, and it somehow has a calming effect on me.
“We can’t do that,” I say in protest. “It’s not professional.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s not ideal, but it’s just two colleagues staying together because one has poisonous toads in his room.” She tries to hide her laughter at my expense. “It’s fine.”
I finally huff out, “Fine. Lead the way.”
She nods and I follow her to her room.
chapter eighteen
“This doesn’t have to be so bad, you know,” she says. “I’m really not that horrible of a person.”
I glance over at her in the small elevator car as we travel to the second floor. “I value privacy, and I’ve had very little of it since the day you walked into my office.”
“I’m sorry, Brian. Really, I am. About the toad, about barging into your office when you weren’t expecting me, about everything.” She’s letting down her guard, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the toad or because of the sedatives, but I’m suddenly hanging on her every word. “I’m sure this can’t be easy for you, but I promise I’m only here to help. I’m only doing the job I was hired to
do.”
“That doesn’t make it any better,” I mutter petulantly.
She nods and doesn’t say anything else. I should be nicer to her given the fact that she’s sharing her room with me—and I signed a contract that says I agreed to be a little nicer to her—but this whole thing is throwing me off balance, especially the part where I suddenly can’t stop looking at this chick’s eyelashes. What the fuck? I don’t think I’ve ever noticed eyelashes on a woman before, of all the stupid things.
“I’m going to dinner,” I announce once I’ve set my suitcase down. Maybe a little food will ward off the anger and the annoyance. I think I might just be hangry, as my sister calls it when I get so hungry I get angry—and then mean. “Alone.”
I don’t wait for her to tell me to order the cheapest thing on the menu, and I don’t bother to look at her as I channel all my frustration into heavy steps as I stride toward the door. It latches shut behind me with a click that echoes down the empty hallway.
I lean against the wall beside the door for a beat as I try to gather my bearings. I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath, and as I exhale, I try to breathe out all the exasperation she incites in me. It’s useless, though, and as I walk down the hall toward the elevator, I can’t help but think it’s because part of me wants a large king bed in that room instead of separate queens.
I order a steak because it’s the only thing on the menu that looks appetizing. I check my email and see some new ones from both Jason and Becker, which tells me Beck’s working on his honeymoon. He shouldn’t be. We all agreed he’d be out of the office and away from work for the duration of his vacation, but we all love this company.
That’s the thought that sends a dart of guilt through me.
What am I doing?
Jason and Becker love FDB as much as I do. If they knew we were barely hanging on by a financial thread right now, what would they have to say about that? And worse, if they knew I signed my stake of the company over to my brother so the three of us don’t even actually have majority ownership of our own company, what would they think?
