by Claire Adams
Or maybe she really, truly, genuinely had no interest in sleeping with me. The way she shrugged off all my advances with confident scorn and polite laughter surely suggested that was the case. That fascinated me endlessly. She had told me she was single, yet she seemed to turn men down right and left. I knew she was a junior in college. Perhaps between the coursework and working almost full-time hours at the bank she simply did not have time for some fun. Maybe if I gave her the right kind of incentive and somehow assured her that she will be compensated for her company more generously than she was for her job…
But I realized I had already tried that, and she was still not interested. I was back at square one, at a complete loss. I had unions to deal with, people to fire, emails to respond to, but all I could focus on was a 20-year-old girl’s ass. All I cared about was finding a way to get her into my bed.
I was hovering on dangerous territory, but I loved a good challenge. I picked up the phone again and watched her answer from the teller’s booth.
“South National Bank, how may I help you?”
She was looking towards me. She knew.
“I can think of so many ways.” I grinned. “None that would require your clothes, though.”
She chuckled, flashing her dimples. It was a nervous laugh. I made everyone around me nervous; it was the natural reaction I had come to expect from people over the years. The reaction coming from her was a source of thrill because she hadn’t given into me yet.
“Did you need something, Mr. Sinclair?”
“Well, first of all, I need you to call me Zayden. Zay is fine too. Can you do that for me?”
“Okay, Zayden,” she sighed heavily. “You’re watching, so you know that took everything out of me. I like to be professional.”
Mrs. Brian, the other teller on duty, looked at Aria disapprovingly. She had worked for this bank for many years, and had seen my shenanigans with many different women.
“I could take so many things out of you, Aria.” My face was serious now. Wanting. “Just give me a chance to show you. I’ll make you feel things you never thought you were capable of feeling.”
She looked away. I was beginning to get irritated that I couldn’t get through to her.
“Thank you for the very generous offer, Mr. Sinclair, but I think I’ll pass for now. Please let me know if you need anything.” She paused for a second. “Anything else, I mean.”
She hung up, leaving me more ridden with desire than before.
Chapter Three
ARIA
My roommates Nick and Stacey were having the hardest time deciding on the kind of pizza to order, as the three of us curled up on our living room couch watching “Friends.”
“God Stacey, you’re such a Monica!” Nick exclaimed.
“Well excuse me for not wanting to give us all cancer,” Stacey snapped back.
“Get off WebMD, Stace. Pizza crust cannot give you cancer.”
“You would be surprised by the kinds of things gluten could do to you if you took some time out of playing space games to actually read about important things on the internet.”
Nick sighed and looked at me as I began to cover my face with my palms.
“I am not going to play judge to yet another pseudo court drama about the importance of video games in your burgeoning career as a programmer,” I mumbled. “Deal with your girlfriend yourself.”
Stacey gasped. “Traitor! You’re supposed to be my best friend!”
“I am. Which is why I am staying out of this.”
They both looked confused and annoyed, as though they were completely clueless about where to go from here. It was comical. Nick and Stacey were the best couple I had ever seen; they were best friends first, and argued over everything from Nick’s video games to Stacey’s Cosmo-inspired women’s blog to pizza and gluten. I also happened to secretly know that they were both working extra shifts – Nick at the Southern Eastern University’s IT help desk, and Stacey at the library – to save money so they could surprise each other on their three-year-anniversary.
Stacey had been my best friend since 9th grade, and when she had met Nick – a freshman in college at the time – we were in our senior year of high school. At first, I was worried sick that we would grow apart after she had found a boyfriend, but it turned out that Nick was incredibly cool and we got along well. So much so that when Stacey and I joined him for college at SEU two years ago, moving into his two-bedroom apartment seemed the natural thing to do. Most people seemed surprised to learn that I lived with a couple, but to us it was just three best friends being roommates and goofing around the house. And my room was far enough away from theirs for me to not hear things I wouldn’t want to hear. I was going to miss them when we all graduated and they moved on to get married, have babies, and do other things couples do. I was a tad envious of what they had. They really were perfect for each other.
Watching their relationship had been one of the reasons I had grown to become ridiculously picky about men. The other reason was a guy I had dated my freshman year who cheated on me with a sorority girl. Rick – a dick if there ever was one – was my first boyfriend, and things seemed to be going great as our first anniversary was approaching. I was going to lose my virginity to him that night. Everything was planned. Nick and Stacey were on a weekend getaway, I had cleaned and double-cleaned the apartment, bought candles and incense and all kinds of other romantic crap. I had cut my shift short so I could set everything up, but when I got home I caught him in bed, in my bed, with a blonde girl I had never seen.
I ended up getting drunk to try and wipe away the sadness, and that led to having sex with another bar-goer. When I woke up and saw my mistake next to me, I pledged that I would not casually date men, I would not settle for anything less than what Nick and Stacey had. One year later, I was still going strong on the pledge. Except for the part where I often dreamed of my boss’s naked body. These dreams were sporadic at first, but were occurring more and more frequently. I was still very firmly set on never acting on my feelings or falling for his advances.
I turned my attention back to Nick and Stacey’s bickering and gave up. “Guys, just get a medium pizza with rice crust and a medium regular. Problem solved.”
After a short pause, I looked at Stacey with amusement. “I’ll be eating the regular, Stace, but I am still morally on your side.”
She threw a pillow at me and we burst into simultaneous giggles.
Half an hour later the doorbell rang.
“That should be the pizza,” Nick said, popping up.
“God, I am starving. I hope they sent the extra pepper flakes. They always mess that up,” I said.
“I don’t understand your inability to consume any kind of food that doesn’t burn your soul.”
“It doesn’t burn, that’s the point. Not in a bad way, at least. Spice makes me appreciate the flavor more.”
“Weirdo.”
“Says the girl who refuses to eat regular pizza because she read something on The Great Internets.”
She scowled. “God, you’re starting to sound just like Nick.”
“Where did he disappear to anyway? It shouldn’t take this long to-” she stopped as Nick showed up looking utterly confused.
Instead of two pizzas, however, he was holding a giant bouquet of red roses.
“When I said I wanted gluten-free, that’s not what I had in mind,” Stacey said. “But how sweet, Nick!”
His eyes widened. “No! No, no. Shit. I can order you some flowers if you want! Sorry, baby. These are for Aria. From someone named Zayden.”
Stacey gasped loudly, covering her mouth. “Zayden as in-“
“As in her boss Zayden,” Nick finished her sentence, looking equally confused.
They were both looking at me sharply, as though I would know what to say. As though I had been expecting flowers from my boss, who very likely had his assistant Lana order them for every teller he hadn’t yet gotten his hands on.
Nick hande
d me the flowers after picking out the note.
“Hey!” I shouted trying to reach for it. Nick was 6-foot-5. I wasn’t going to win.
“Dear Aria,” he read out loud in a dramatic voice, his right arm over his chest. “I hope you enjoy the roses. One rose for each day until I change your mind.”
Nick gasped as Stacey counted: “Thirty roses!”
I felt myself get hot in the face with embarrassment, but a tiny bit of me fluttered in excitement. What the hell was wrong with me?
“There’s a P.S.” Nick announced. “P.S. I picked out the roses myself, so don’t bother thanking Lana tomorrow.”
“Have they developed technology to intercept brainwaves yet?” I looked at Stacey.
“No Aria, he can’t read your mind.” She flashed a huge grin. “You have a lover!”
“What?” I said louder than perhaps necessary. “I do not have a lover. Zayden – Mr.Sinclair – is not my lover.”
“Looks like he will be in about,” Nick surveyed the roses, “30 days.”
I sighed. “No, he won’t. I’ll return the roses.”
“No, you won’t!” Stacey yelled, looking like I had just said I would amputate her imaginary puppy. “He’s a multi-squillionaire. And so handsome. So, so handsome. Are you stupid?”
“That’s not the point-” I stopped myself mid-sentence and gave her a suspicious look. “How do you know he’s handsome?”
“What?” she said defensively. “I read ZEN Magazine.”
Oh, right. That. I had a copy of the issue with Zayden’s interview under my bed.
“I found it under your bed,” Stacy added. “You’re already kind of sleeping with him.”
“Shut up, Stace! Let’s just eat the pizza, watch some TV, and never speak of this again.”
“Sure, if by never you mean 30 days,” Nick butted in.
“Thanks for the unsolicited opinion, Nicholas,” I said turning up the volume on the TV and getting under a blanket.
They continued to offer what they thought were clever comments, but I tuned them out, focusing instead on the giant bouquet of red roses. Was I in trouble? Would he manage to get what he wanted in 30 days? He couldn’t take what I didn’t want to give. I felt a strange pang in my chest. The problem was, I was not entirely sure I didn’t want to give in. My cell phone rang, breaking the dangerous train of thoughts.
“Hi, Mom! How are you feeling?” I answered the phone.
“Hi, sweetheart. I am doing much better. The doctors said I’ll be running around by the end of the month.”
I smiled. “I am so happy to hear that, Mom.”
“Don’t be, we still have to pay for the stupid surgery. If I hadn’t gotten the damn surgery-”
“If you hadn’t gotten the surgery, I wouldn’t have a mother,” I cut her off. “So you just worry about getting yourself all better, and I’ll worry about the bills.”
“Like you don’t have enough expenses paying your way through college. I’m sorry for being such a lousy mother, baby.”
“Don’t say that!” Tears formed in my eyes, ready to break free. “Having to file for bankruptcy because Dad bailed on you after forcing you to co-sign on his loan does not make you a lousy mother. It makes you a good person who faced terrible consequences for being one. You need to stop blaming yourself. You took care of me all my life, now let me take care of you. It’s going to be okay.”
“But-”
“No but. I’ll figure out a way to pay the hospital bills. You relax and get all pretty. It’s 9 o’clock, John will be over with his daily tea service.”
She chuckled nervously. “What do you mean get pretty? He’s just my neighbor who likes to help out sometimes. And bring me mugs of tea. Just a…friend.”
“Okay Mom, have fun with your neighbor-friend,” I laughed. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. Take care of yourself.”
“Mom, I love you, bye!”
I hung up with a smile still on my face and tears in my eyes. I still couldn’t believe what my dad had done to her. I had no idea where he was now, what he was doing, if he ever thought about us. He left us to take care of ourselves and I started working at the age of 14, while my mom tried her best to fend for us, living paycheck to paycheck, while dealing with her heart condition. It all motivated me to work hard and excel in college so I could become a successful loan officer and give my mom all the things she deserved.
This was exactly why I could never let Zayden Sinclair get into my head again. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath with new reserve.
The flowers had to be returned.
---
I walked to the loan officer’s desk feeling nervous. This morning, Stacey had helped me dress up in her black suit, so I looked confident and mature enough to handle the situation. I had hoped the attire would kill the moths in my stomach, but no such luck so far.
“Hi, I am Aria,” I said, offering my right hand.
“Wilson.” His handshake was curt. “Take a seat, Aria. You’re one of the tellers here, correct? I see you whenever I walk in through the front.”
I nodded.
“How long have you been working here?” He was looking at his computer screen.
“Just about three months. I worked at State Park Bank for almost two years before that.”
“As a teller?”
I wanted him to get to the point.
“Yes, sir,” I said meekly.
“And you’re still in school?”
Why was he asking me these questions when he was obviously looking at a document that told him all the answers? Mr. Wilson was not helping the moth situation in my stomach.
“Yes, at Southern Eastern. Junior year.”
“Really?” He finally looked at me with raised eyebrows. “It says here that you have only been in college for two years.”
“Yes, but I had excellent grades in many AP classes so I had a whole year transferred over.”
“Impressive.” It didn’t sound like a compliment, for some reason. “Do you have any other jobs besides this one?”
“No, just the bank. But I work insane hours, so it’s practically two jobs,” I laughed nervously. He was not amused.
“I see,” he said and typed something on his computer.
There were a few minutes of silence, during which the moths in my stomach participated in an intense war. I was just about ready to throw up. This loan was my only bet— the only way I would be able to pay for my mom’s surgery without dropping out of college. The future of my entire life depended on whatever this Wilson guy was typing on his computer.
When he finally looked up, my heart was pounding.
“Here’s the thing, Aria,” he said without a single expression on his face. “You seem like a smart girl with a very promising future. However, between your college tuition and loans and your own living expenses, and just this job to sustain yourself – even if it is, as you put it,” he paused to make air-quotes, “‘practically two jobs,’ there is just no way you will be able to handle a loan for 60,000 dollars.”
My heart fell, and I could feel my eyes start to prickle.
“But I will be out of college in a little over a year.” My voice was shaky. “And I will have an excellent job, I assure you, and my situation will change completely.”
“When that happens you can reapply for the loan.” He actually looked a little apologetic.
“I need to pay for my mother’s heart surgery.” I don’t know why I said it. Studying to be a loan officer, I knew that there was nothing Wilson could do personally. His reasoning was completely sound.
“I’m really sorry to hear that, and I wish the bank could help you out, but right now there is nothing we can do.”
“I understand.” I did. That didn’t stop me from wanting to run into the bathroom and bawl my eyes out. “Thank you.”
My face was swollen and covered in tears by the time I made it back to the teller’s booth.
Chapter Four<
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ZAYDEN
She was crying. Crying women made me uncomfortable. My mother knew this so well that I didn’t remember the last time I saw her without tears in her eyes. At first it was about my dad’s death, so I used to try and make her feel better, but slowly it became directed towards my dad, in bitterness. At first I didn’t understand why she would speak of her dead husband as though he were some sort of a monster, but snide comments here and there about how I was handling my billions, and it all started adding up. She couldn’t believe that he hadn’t left a single penny in her name, which made no sense to me at first either, but eventually the truth came out; she had been cheating on him for years. With his lawyer. Who also happened to be one of his best friends. He tolerated it while he was alive because he loved her or some nonsense of that sort, but apparently this “love” thing was not that big of a deal because he found a way to get back at her from the grave. It made me hate her for a little bit, which added to the endless crying, but she was still my mother and I found a way to tolerate her. I bought her a giant house in California, thousands of miles away from me.
Why was Aria Roberts crying? I debated whether to go over to her and what the implications of that would be. There was no question about the fact that I wanted her body, but approaching her at an emotional time might suggest I wanted more. That I cared about how she was feeling. Well, maybe that’s exactly what she wanted; maybe believing exactly that would be what broke her restraint. I got a strange feeling in my gut that I didn’t understand. I was the master of manipulation. I messed with women’s emotions all the time. The hint of moral fiber had to be because she was crying.
I shook my head and trotted over to the booth. She was the only person there. Her mascara had slightly run down her smooth, blushing olive cheeks, which made her look surprisingly sexy.
